Alien Child (17 page)

They stopped once to rest. She looked back along the way they had come, noting a place where the gardener had broken the twigs of a shrub. “I wonder how far we’ve gone,” she said.

“Hard to tell.”

Something rustled behind her; she jumped to her feet and reached for her wand. Birds cawed and then were silent. She could not see what had made the noise; she sat down again and sipped some of her water.

Sven stood up after he had drunk, then consulted his compass as they trudged on. Nita glanced behind them while Sven kept his eyes on what was ahead. She could not tell how much time was passing; it was dark under the trees and she was unable to glimpse the sun through the branches of oak and pine. Her fears grew until her stomach was tight and her face clammy with perspiration. She told herself that the gardener could guide them back, now that it had images of their route and a trail was marked by their passing. But she could not give up so soon.

The ground was beginning to slope now, sometimes so steeply that she had to cling to limbs of tree trunks while descending a hill. The closeness of so many trees was disturbing; she felt
 
grateful that not all of their journey would be spent in this wood. They would reach the plain, and that could not be as disturbing as this forest. They would get to the plain—if they found the river, if they made it to the edge of the forest, if the panic rising inside her did not overpower her completely. She forced herself to suppress those thoughts.

They came to a spot where the trees were not so close together. Sven ordered the robot to stop, then shrugged out of his pack. Nita removed hers, remembered to search the ground for snakes, then sat down.

“You can eat first,” Sven said. “I’ll keep watch.”

She drank from her bottle, then ate a flat square of bread and beans. They had enough food, but water would be a problem if they did not find the river; they and the robot had only enough water for a few days. Now she was almost hoping that they did not find the river so that they would have an excuse to turn back.

Sven was gazing at a tree trunk. “Some of this bark’s been stripped,” he said. “An animal must have eaten it.” He poked at a strawy mass with his foot. “And this looks like a dropping of some kind. I saw something like it on the screen.” He cleared his throat. “The images didn’t really prepare me for this, though. It’s hard to believe anyone once lived here.”

She groaned as she stood up, and wished that she could rest. Sven knelt and began to search through his pack. She heard a branch snap and saw something move under the trees. Without thinking, she pulled out her weapon and fired; she heard a thump.

Sven got to his feet. “Did you hit it?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice. He stumbled over to where the ray had struck, then motioned to her. A large animal lay on the ground, its antlers tangled in a shrub.

“It’s a deer,” he said. “I don’t think it would have hurt us.”

“I didn’t know what it was.”

“It’s all right. Better to be safe.” He sat down; he had just started to eat when the deer moved, staggered to its feet, and disappeared among the trees.

Sven frowned. “That deer couldn’t have been out for ten minutes, or even five. Apparently these weapons can kill a small creature but don’t stun a large one for very long.”

“They were meant to be used against people. That must be why.”

Sven looked grim as he finished his food. “We’ll have to keep that in mind if we see anything big.” He stood up. “Rested enough?”

“I think so.” She sighed; her pack felt even heavier.

Nita soon noticed other trees where bark had been pulled off in strips, as well as trunks marked by scratches. Occasionally their path crossed areas that looked trampled; she wondered if they were part of an animal trail.

Throughout the day, while they walked or when they were resting, she could not shake the feeling that they were being watched. Every wilderness image she had viewed on the screen flooded into her mind—furry creatures called bears that could kill a human being if provoked, large cats that preyed on smaller creatures, wolves with sharp teeth. The records had said that most such creatures avoided people; that had been easier to believe when she was safe inside the Institute.

“It’s getting darker,” she called out to Sven. Already it was becoming harder to see. “We ought to stop before we can’t see at all.”

“There’s a clearing just ahead. We’ll stop there.”

They came to a small glade; the reddish evening sky was barely visible through the branches arching overhead. Sven set the gardener to work gathering wood while he and Nita cleared a space for a fire, then dug a hollow for the fire in the ground. The air was warm, but the fire would protect them from the forest’s inhabitants.

The library records had shown them how to build a fire. Yet even after they had broken up the wood and laid it out, it took some time to get the fire started with the heating rod they had brought from one of the laboratories. Their tinder went out twice; then a flame died before it could catch. By the time Sven fanned another small flame into a blaze, the sky above was nearly completely dark.

Nita unzipped the gloves over her hands, pulled off her boots, and examined her feet.

“Any sores?” Sven asked.

“A couple.” She pulled out her medical kit, cleaned the red spots with antiseptic, bandaged them, then pulled on her socks and boots. Even an untended sore could pose a danger out here; she worried about how many other problems they might face.

Sven checked his own feet, then thrust them into his boots. “Well,” he said, “we’ve made it through one day.” The forest seemed quieter as they ate; the birds were chirping more softly. “Do you ache as much as I do?”

“I’m all right.”

“I feel as if my hipbones are grinding themselves into pieces.”

For some reason, this struck her as funny. She laughed, then choked; she was shaking. Sven took her hand. “Nita, do you want to go back?”

“So soon? That’d be kind of silly, after all these preparations.”

“I know.” He looked toward the gardener, who had settled on the ground near them. “I wish the mind could talk to us.”

“At least it can see and hear us,” she said.

“Maybe we should have done what I suggested,” he said, “and sent a robot to the city first. We could have followed it with another and known what’s ahead.”

“But you know why we decided against that.” The people they sought would not know who had sent the robot out; if they were near the city, a robot might only frighten them away. The survivors had to see that two others of their kind lived. “Maybe they wanted us to follow them,” she continued. “Maybe that’s why the craft didn’t wait.”

“But they couldn’t have seen us. They don’t know for sure that we’re alive.”

“They might have guessed. Maybe they’re testing us to see if we’re brave enough to come out and search for them.”

“I wonder if we are,” he replied. “I’ll keep watch first, if you like.”

Nita shook her head. “I’ll watch. I don’t think I can sleep yet.” Her aches and her fears would be enough to keep her awake.

She dug a hole for their food wrappings while Sven hung their packs on a low limb before he stretched out under a tree. They had brought a covering from one of the tower’s sleeping platforms, but Sven did not remove it from the robot’s packs. His suit would keep him warm enough, and the trees could shelter them here.

She told the robot to touch her arm after four hours had passed, then settled down to keep watch. The clearing was completely dark now, the only illumination the glow of the fire and the gleam of the gardener’s tiny lights. She remembered how fearful she had once been of night in the garden; she had not imagined that the world could be so dark. She heard hooting nearby, and a sound that might have been a howl farther away; she shuddered and moved closer to the fire.

The mind would be watching through the glassy panel just above the robot’s lights, but the Institute’s intelligence could do little to protect them. This forest had to seem as alien to the mind as it did to her—untamed, dark, a place where all traces of those who had created the mind had vanished.

She fed another branch to the flames, setting it carefully on one side of the blazing triangle of wood. Except for seeing that the fire did not go out, there was not much else she could do. The burning wood crackled; she grew aware of a strange metallic chirping in the forest beyond. She huddled near the fire, trying not to think of what lay outside its light. The clearing made her uneasy; she wondered what other creatures might have passed this way.

Only one day had passed, and she already wanted to be back at the Institute. But she could not turn back. She would not really know what she was until she found the survivors and learned what they had become.

She managed to stay awake until the robot signaled her, then collected more wood before waking Sven. He groaned a little, sat up, rubbed his eyes, and took out his wand.

“I don’t feel as if I’ve slept at all,” he said. He stretched, then moved toward the fire.

Nita took out the cloth covering and lay down on it, but the ground was still hard and uncomfortable. She was conscious of every ache in her legs, shoulders, and back. Whenever she felt close to sleep, a cramp in her foot or leg roused her once more. Knowing that she had to sleep, that she would find the next day’s travel even more wearying if she did not, only made matters worse. At last she drifted into an uneasy rest.

She was standing outside a wall. A door in the wall slid open. A woman with Beate’s fair hair was walking toward her; next to her stood a man who resembled Ismail. They were waiting for Nita; now they were saying that they had something important to tell her.

Nita stirred, then blinked at the light. Was it morning already? Apparently she had slept, after all. Her muscles were stiff; she sat up slowly.

Sven sat against a nearby tree trunk, his head bowed. A glance at the fire revealed that it had gone out. Sven had fallen asleep; she was suddenly furious with him.

She stood up. Before she could speak, a loud rustling on the other side of the clearing told her that something was moving in their direction. Her hand crept toward her weapon. A brown furry beast was moving under the trees; twigs cracked under its feet. She pulled out her wand and fired.

A roar filled the clearing. The creature rose up on its hind legs and she saw that it was a bear. She nearly panicked, then fired again. The bear burst into the clearing, moving more quickly than she had thought it could. Her beam struck it three more times before it collapsed on top of the blackened wood, its paws only a few paces from her feet.

Sven jumped to his feet, awake now. “What—”

“A bear,” she gasped as she thrust the covering into her pack. “Come on! We have to get out of here before it wakes up.”

He pulled his pack from the tree limb as she tied hers to herself. “Follow us!” she shouted to the robot.

They thrashed through the underbrush. She did not think of where they were going, but only wanted to get as far from the clearing as possible. She was soon panting, and dropped behind Sven as they ran. She looked back hastily, then pushed on, keeping her weapon ready, listening for the sound of the bear in pursuit. The robot was behind her; it was floating over the thick foliage that kept threatening to entangle her.

They continued to flee until she thought her chest would burst. Ahead of her, Sven cried out; he swayed and then abruptly dropped out of sight.

She staggered after him and found herself teetering on the edge of a sharply sloping hill; she caught herself before she could fall. Sven was rolling downhill; his hands flailed helplessly at the thick leaves on the ground. He struck a tree and lay still.

She inched her way down the slope after him, impatient to reach him but afraid she would slip. He was moving, but she feared that he was injured.

“Sven!” He sat up and leaned against the tree. “Are you all right?”

He was gulping for air. “Caught me in the chest,” he said weakly. “I think—”

She knelt next to him, opened his suit, and felt at his chest. “I don’t feel any broken bones.”

“I’m all right. Just knocked the breath out of me.”

“Can you get up?” she asked.

“I think so.” He rose and kept his body bent as they crept down the slope, then pulled out his compass as they came to the bottom of the hill. “We’ve been going east.” He pointed to his right. “We have to go that way.” They waited for the robot to float down to them, then began to walk south.

Her panic, she realized, had endangered them as much as the bear had; Sven might have been seriously hurt. A warm wave of relief swept through her, followed by the chill of fear; she began to shake.

She sank to the ground. Sven halted and turned toward her. “I must have drifted off,” he muttered. “I couldn’t have been asleep for long. I was sitting there, and then—”

“The fire was out,” she said accusingly. “It wouldn’t have gone out right away.”

“Nita, I’m sorry. I made a bad mistake. It won’t happen again.”

“I was counting on you!” she shouted. “You were supposed to keep watch!”