The Unkillables (11 page)

“Okay. Convince me later, please.” Veela was on the verge of pointing out that Dak had yet to make any of those adjustments, drifting around as he was in his invulnerable, climate-controlled spaceship. What stopped her was once again her sense that Dak just might up and fly around to the other side of the planet and set himself up as a god to be worshiped by their easily impressed ancestors, once he’d established to his satisfaction that all the zombies had been destroyed. Perhaps he’d establish a little empire for himself, humanity’s first. In his place, Veela would never have been able to even consider such a course of action, partly because of the intense experience they’d shared as fellow survivors, partly out of simple humanity. But something warned her not to assume that Dak would feel the same compunctions.

Anyway, he might be right. Sex might be an effective binding strategy. Part of what bugged her was that she’d already been mulling over a similar idea in relation to the Jaw, and not feeling too dreadful about it either. Now, if it did happen, she was afraid she’d feel she was doing it at Dak’s prompting.

T
he People had moved deeper and lower into the caves, away from the mouth and, as Gash-Eye told them, the bands of unkillables still roving around. By the light of some burning brands (the People had never invented proper torches) they found a big chamber, one where they could light a fire; the smoke had enough room to diffuse and not suffocate them, though it stung the eyes.

It was a sad group, these survivors of the mostly-destroyed People, bewildered, clumped together in the cold stinking smoky darkness, praying for the slave they’d spat on yesterday to tell them when they might leave.

Gash-Eye, meanwhile, hunched in a dark corner of the cave. The firelight drove most of the animals away, into darkness, so that the People’s hunters could not see them, though they might occasionally hear them. But Gash-Eye, with her Big-Brow vision, could still see them when they approached, at the edge of the light’s reach, a dim zone that for the People was pitch black. So far she’d caught a lizard and a salamander, both of which she’d given to them. She wasn’t hungry.

Sometimes the cave’s mysterious wind wafted in a patch of air that was gaggingly rotten, sometimes sweet—often the odor would be mephitic, urinous—sulfurous—sometimes it left the People, and Gash-Eye, woozy, light-headed, confused, as certain plants could do.

Earlier a swarm of bats had swooped by overhead—many of the People had screamed and cowered, ready to be terrified by anything now. A few of the quicker hunters had had the presence of mind to jump up and snatch some of the lower-flying bats, like wild living fruit. They’d torn into the animals with their teeth, ripping them apart while they were still alive. The event had given Gash-Eye pause—if bats kept flying overhead and hunters kept catching them, the People would have no more need of her for food. But it only happened that once.

There had been a skittering sound before. She was waiting for it to recur. It would be easy to hear. The People were hardly talking.

Though they needed her for now, she didn’t trust them. She had been tempted to sneak away from them, to just go sit in the darkness alone and die, but she worried what would become of Quarry. So she stayed, biding her time, maintaining enough control over them with her made-up visions to keep herself alive and Quarry safe, hoping she would figure out a next step eventually. Although the longer they stayed in this cursed cave, with its darkness and its heavy black stone sky, the more she had trouble remembering there was a world outside at all, the more it seemed they would all just rot here.

Other than Quarry, Hoof was the only one whom she might have put faith in. But he was gone. There had been some commotion—Hoof had said something, Gash-Eye didn’t know what, and Spear had shrieked that he was a coward and chased him from the fire. Whatever he’d said, Gash-Eye was sure it hadn’t been cowardly, just sensible. Everyone had expected Hoof to wait till Spear calmed down and then head back again, without so much as holding a grudge. But he hadn’t come back. The chances of him willingly remaining absent for so long, far from any fire, were low. Probably something had gotten him.

The noise came again. A shadow scurried past against a background of paler shadow. Gash-Eye grabbed the thing by the back half and whipped it against the stone. It twitched. Gash-Eye picked up the rock she had ready and brought it smashing down on the thing’s head, which she could only just make out. She wanted to be sure it was dead before she picked it up. It was small, but not too small, and apart from that and the fact that it had hair, Gash-Eye had no idea what sort of animal it was.

Except that it also had a long, hairless tail, as she discovered from feeling around. It was some kind of big rodent. She picked it up by the tail and brought it back to the fire. The People had heard the noise and were looking back in her direction, glum and expectant. The small sounds of blood and brain dripping on stone could be heard as she drew near.

All eyes were on the beast as soon as it came into view, but no one molested her as she carried it to Stick. She held the meager, mangy creature a bit higher as she presented it to him, and said, “Accept this meat, Stick, on behalf of the People.”

Stick looked at the dirty hairy rodent without enthusiasm. But he said, “Thank you, Petal-Drift. The People live by your service, while we remain trapped in this darkness.” He accepted the animal from her, set it on the ground between himself and the fire and simply stared at it, as if wondering how he would ever be able to divide the raggedy thing among all these people, few though they were.

In reply to his unvoiced worry, Gash-Eye said, “I know this will not serve the needs of the People. I will continue to gather what creatures I can find, till there is enough for all. Meanwhile, divide this among whoever you find fit to be the first to eat.”

Stick nodded, without looking up at her. “This I shall do, Petal-Drift,” he said.

Each time he called her “Petal-Drift,” his voice stuck a bit. This was in part because of his long habit of calling her the traditional name, “Gash-Eye.” Also, she was sure, it was because the name “Petal-Drift” suggested something beautiful, and to Stick and the rest of his kind a full-blooded Big-Brow could never be anything but ugly.

Not even Gash-Eye could think of herself by that name, Petal-Drift. She tried, but she had been Gash-Eye for too long. But she was glad she could make the proud People call her by the name she’d had before ever meeting them.

Letting her eye rove over the People first, taking in how they cowered closer to that small center of illumination, helpless against the dark, she turned and started back to the darkness at the edge of the chamber.

Behind her she heard movement, footsteps advancing on her swiftly. She turned to face whoever it was, and saw Spear there; he tossed the rodent into her face and slapped her across the cheek, hard as he could.

“Take back your trash! Rat might be suitable food for Big-Brows. But we humans eat game! We’re hunters, not jackals!”

He paused, glaring into her face, breathing hard in his fury, waiting to see what she would do.

She regarded him with almost a stupid expression. Finally she said, “Very well, Spear.” She crouched down, picked up the rodent, stood again. Spear watched her closely, hatefully. She pitched her voice over Spear’s shoulder and said, “Stick. Stick, and all you People. Spear says the food I bring is fit only for Big-Brows and not the likes of you. Very well, I will catch and eat my Big-Brow food alone. I meant no offense.”

“There was no offense, Petal-Drift,” said Stick. Gash-Eye relished the anxiety in his voice. “Spear does not speak for the People.”

“Then the People should not let Spear speak for them.”

“I speak as I wish,” said Spear.

“Very well. Hunt game where you wish, as well.”

Gash-Eye turned and began to walk away from him. Spear growled, grabbed her shoulder, and spun her around. Gash-Eye didn’t resist; she waited to see if someone from the People would intervene.

Someone did. “Leave her alone, Spear!” screamed Horn, one of the hunters.

His scream echoed and roiled through the cave, its volume eerily amplified. The People clenched in on themselves more tightly, as if they were afraid the scream would cause the ceiling to vibrate and fall in on them.

But Gash-Eye knew that what they were really waiting for was to see if she would refuse to catch any more food. The hunters could take dim, smoldering brands far enough to find water by themselves—there were pools here and there, and a scout had already brought back word of a huge subterranean lake not far away. But the fire would frighten away whatever food there was, before the People could get close enough to see it.

The scream had startled Spear. Once he recovered, it disgusted him. He sneered at Gash-Eye, and said, “Fine. Go back to your rat-catching, Big-Brow.” He turned and sauntered back to the fire.

Gash-Eye watched him go, then kept watching even after he’d sat back down. One of the hunters scampered out, grabbed the rodent, and returned to the fire without looking at her. The People were conversing among themselves in murmurs now. Already they’d forgotten the confrontation—they were content to let her go back to her rat-catching, and they’d be happy to eat the results when she was done.

She walked back to the circle around the fire. Some looked up with trepidation, afraid she was still angry—some looked up hungrily, and were disappointed to see she brought no more food.

The conversations ceased. She stood looking down at Stick, who looked up to meet her gaze. He waited with resignation for her to speak.

“Am I to be beaten for bringing meat to the People?” she said.

“No, Petal-Drift. I am sorry Spear hit you.” He turned to Spear. “Spear, I say you shall not hit her again.”

Unbelievably, Spear didn’t protest, though he looked like he was having to chew off his own tongue to avoid doing so.

But Gash-Eye said, “I honor you, Stick. But what you say isn’t good enough. Spear wanted to kill me before the unkillables attacked. Spear beat me right after we took shelter in this cave. And now Spear beats me when I bring meat to the People. Each time, Stick has said words to restrain him, but always Spear beats me again.”

“I’ll show you a beating, you Big-Brow animal,” said Spear, no longer able to hold his peace. “Are we truly going to sit and let this Gash-Eye talk to us this way? Talk to Stick this way—Stick, whom till now we always held to be the strongest and the wisest? Are we going to let this Gash-Eye talk to us at all?! By the bone, I’d rather starve to death! Or, better, die fighting those unkillables! If they even are still out there!”

Some of the People were hissing at him to be silent. Keeping her eyes on Stick, Gash-Eye said, “They are indeed still out there. I will tell you when they’re not. You know I can see the truth of it, for you captured me and have held me all these years thanks to my Sight.” She turned to the rest of the band. “If the People’s pride tells them they must not take aid from a Big-Brow, I will no longer give offense by offering it.”

Desperate assurances came from around the circle that she gave no offense. Stick’s eyes seemed no longer to see as he held his face in her direction. “Tell us what it is you wish, Petal-Drift.”

“Spear’s life.”

Stick showed not the slightest quiver of surprise. But the rest of the circle burst into an uproar, and Spear and his good friends leaped to their feet, some with spears or knives in hand. “Never!” shouted one of the hunters—it was small, wiry young Tooth. “Never could the People surrender one of their hunters because this Gash-Eye slave requested it! Never! Such a thing is unimaginable!”

“I don’t expect you to do it,” she said. “I only said that was the only condition upon which I’d feed you.”

Tooth sneered. “And what if your scavenging food for us is the only condition upon which I won’t gut you now, Big-Brow?”

Moving faster than she had done in years, Gash-Eye grabbed Tooth by the throat and the skins he wore, hoisted him all the way up over her head, and almost before anyone realized what she was doing, she slammed him down hard onto his back, right into the middle of the fire.

The burns weren’t bad enough to kill him, but he flailed and made noises that would have been shrieks if he hadn’t had the air knocked from his lungs. Others screamed for him. They dragged him out of the flames, which his body had not extinguished but had much diminished. Everything was illuminated now only by a dim unstable red light.

The People were all on their feet. They made as if they would rush her, but an invisible barrier held them back. There was lots of contradictory shouting, and it was almost impossible to make out individual words.

Stick stood in the inner ring of the furious circle that had formed around Gash-Eye. He faced her and said, “What do you wish?” She could hear how it galled him to have to ask her anything.

“Kill her!” screamed Spear, hidden behind the crowd gathered around her. Gash-Eye wondered why he wasn’t rushing her himself, then realized someone must be holding him back. It was hard to tell through the commotion, but she thought she heard sounds of struggle, and she wondered if not only Spear but also his friends were trying to attack her, while the more level-headed among the People stopped them. “Ask her for nothing, kill her!”

“What do you want?” repeated Stick.

“The life of the man who returned my gift of food with blows.”

“She is our slave!” cried Spear. “A slave cannot give gifts!”

Now the sounds of a fight were unmistakable. Some of the People were trying to beat Spear and his friends into silence.

Stick looked at her with something almost like despair. “Thank you for the meat, Petal-Drift,” he said, and the words sounded like they were being spoken to a conqueror whose foot was on his neck. “But if our only hope is to remain in this dark cave till our last days, perhaps it would be better to die soon.”

“No one said you need stay down here forever. Only till the unkillables leave the hill outside.”