IN NATURA: a science fiction novel (ARZAT SERIES Book 2) (11 page)

  “That’s fine.” Alex was looking around the area like she was a child that had just arrived at a playground. “You guys just run off and leave me all alone. Some big ass bear or something will probably come and eat me,” she continued, smiling and obviously kidding. Alex was smart enough to know she would only be in the way.

  “Honestly, I worry about that, Alex,” Tom responded. “We really have no idea what kind of world we’ve just walked into. There could be way more than just a few bears around. If there are buffalo, there are sure to be predators that hunt them, right?”

  “Tom,” Alex said, backing up on her statement, “this is the same desert I’ve lived in most of my life, and, I might add, spent a hell of a lot of time alone in as you might recall. As far as I’m concerned, though it may sound mean, the most dangerous predators—and by that I am referring to other humans—have probably been eliminated. Honestly, you guys go ahead. I’ll get to work clearing an area where we can sleep and round up some fire wood, then maybe Mot can show us how that flint and steel work again.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure . . .” Tom said, scanning the area for any obvious signs of danger.

  “I’m sure, Tom,” Alex said, giving him a quick kiss. “I’ll be very careful. Now, get out there and find us some dinner, would ya? I’m starving.”

  “All right, Alex, but under one condition: you have to absolutely
swear
to me that you will not go wandering off somewhere.”

  “No sir, not me,” Alex said, raising her hand as if she were taking an oath. She smiled and lowered her head as if she were in trouble
before
even being in trouble.

  Tom looked at Alex lovingly, realizing the absolute futility in even bothering to utter such a statement. He shrugged his shoulders and turned to Mot and Ara.

  “All right, let’s go see what we can find.”

* * *

Tom and the two Arzats stashed their extra clothing with Alex, crossed a wide and shallow section of the creek, and headed back up the other side in the direction of the herd they had seen earlier. Alex watched as the three of them disappeared into the trees and then began to search for a good place to build a fire. There was a large open spot of smooth round gravel perfect for building some makeshift beds and plenty of larger river rock available to fashion a fire pit. Alex cleared the area by raking it with some branches. She then began assembling the bigger rocks in a circle sizable enough to contain a large fire.

  If the weather held, we would probably be okay outside for a night or two,
she thought,
but sooner or later we are going to need to find or build some kind of shelter
. In the meantime, Alex hoped that Tom and the Arzats would have some luck with their hunt.
A nice piece of roasted buffalo would sure be good,
she thought, unconsciously rubbing her belly. Suddenly, she remembered she was pregnant, and a smile spread across her face.

  Are you having a craving,
Alexandra Moss? Alex laughed and shook her head as she placed the last rocks on the border of her fire pit. Now she needed fuel. She noticed a large pile of dry driftwood down by the water and headed in that direction.

  Alex crossed over some large, flat rocks by the water’s edge. As she reached the pile of driftwood, she looked into the crystal clear stream and noticed a school of enormous trout swimming slowly in a calm area near the bank.

  That’s good,
she thought. Even if the great hunters don’t bring home some meat, we’ll still have dinner.

  Alex considered that the fish, as lightning quick as they might be, would be no match for the even quicker hands of the Arzats.
Hell,
she thought—remembering the swim Mot had once made to save her life—
he’s probably way faster than the damn fish!

  She bent down and gathered up an armload of loose driftwood, carefully looking around the area as she did so, mindful of Tom’s concern for her. As she stood, she noticed a series of indentations in the gravel along the stream. Alex considered the marks until her hands grew heavy from the wood, and then she turned back toward camp.
Probably nothing,
she thought, as she started to walk away. She looked back for another moment and finally surrendered to her scientific curiosity. Alex gently sat the wood down and stepped over the gravel to examine the marks more closely.

  They were animal tracks of some kind. It looked as if something had come her way, then doubled back. The indentations were large, but she couldn’t really make out anything specific about them in the loose gravel—but there
was
something very odd about them that she just could not place. Finally, unable to make much more of them, she rose and went back to pick up her driftwood. She stopped and looked back at the tracks one last time and the hair rose on the back of her neck. When she saw her own footprints next to them, she realized that whatever had made the others had been two-footed!

  She looked back at the camp, searching her memory. Tom and the Arzats had gone the other direction across the creek, and they certainly hadn’t come this way earlier. Was it possible there were other humans around?

  Alex began to follow the tracks in the gravel. They continued for several hundred feet along the edge of the water then veered inland around a cluster of large boulders that blocked the water’s edge. There was a muddy area just behind the rocks. Alex stopped cold. She bent down and could not believe what she was seeing. In the dark ooze was the perfectly formed footprint of a species of animal she had recently become very familiar with—it was the unmistakable footprint of an Arzat.

CHAPTER 15

SECRET WEAPON

When they had first come out of the canyon where they left Alex, Tom still had trouble believing his eyes. Even though he had already spotted the herd earlier from a much greater distance, he was now much closer. Thousands of animals stretched out over a vast, open expanse of tall grass. They grazed and slowly moved about, snorting and fighting amongst themselves.
Buffalo! Real, honest to god, wild buffalo!
Tom thought. It was the stuff of legends.

  He remembered the stories he had read as a young boy about the millions of buffalo that had once populated a good part of North America before the settlement of the west. Now, here they were, back again in full force.
But how in the heck did their ancestors survive the asteroid?
He wondered.
No matter
,
I’m just glad they had.

  Tom smiled. He knew enough about them and the Native Americans who had lived on them for centuries to know that he had just confirmed a new livelihood.
Hell,
he thought,
they will provide everything we need—food, clothing, and shelter. Christ, we couldn’t eat our way through just this one herd if we lived to be a million! Okay, Thomas,
he cautioned himself,
that is all well and good for the future, but right now you need to kill one of these things, and that, without a rifle, is not going to be easy.

  He tested the wind, which was lightly blowing in their direction from the herd.
Good,
he thought.
The day is still sunny and perfect, and we are downwind.

  “Shall I go and kill one now, Tom, son of Richard?” Mot asked, not taking his eyes off the herd, his tongue flicking often as he sized up their potential prey.

  As far as Mot was concerned, these beasts were just larger versions of the horses he had met at Alex’s ranch in the last world with no real danger and lots of meat. He began to salivate at the thought of dinner. Mot had also sorted the wind and realized they were in the perfect position to attack.

  “Perhaps we should have a plan,” Ara said, also eyeing the large animals, remembering what Alex had said earlier. Though they did not look particularly dangerous, they were, after all, quite large, and there were a lot of them.

  Once again, she had also been reading Tom’s mind. Her human friend was being cautious—and rightfully so. Ara could sense Mot’s impatience, but she knew that Tom had more experience with these beasts since they were from his world.
Perhaps
, she thought,
there is more danger here than Mot suspects.
She was anxious to hear the Pilot’s plan for these beasts without having to search for it in his head.

  Tom looked around at the topography. He knew that if they made a wrong move, they could spook the entire herd and it might escape. Worse yet, the whole group of animals might turn their way in a stampede and crush them.
No, crush
you
Tom,
he corrected himself. He knew the Arzats could easily outrun even a charging bull.

  Tom thought their best bet would be to cull out a younger calf and get it away from the main herd. The Arzats would be perfect for that. They were faster than horses and far scarier. But he and the Arzats would have only one chance. Beyond their position, the plains and rolling hills disappeared over the horizon. If spooked, the buffalo had plenty of running room. Just behind Tom and the Arzats—near the valley that lead back to their new campsite—was a small group of higher black rocks that ended in a sort of shallow box canyon.
Excellent,
Tom thought
, a natural corral.

  “Okay, Mot,” he finally said. “I’m sorry, but I think you both know I am much slower than these buffalo, so I am going to need you and Ara to do most of the work if we want to eat.”

  “You do not need to apologize, Tom,” Mot said. “I am happy to be able to hunt again—as I am born to do. Tell me how to slay these beasts you call . . . ‘buffalo’ . . . and it shall be done.”

  Tom very carefully explained his plan to Mot and Ara. The Arzats would cull a calf from the edge of the herd and try to run it into the canyon. Then Tom and Ara would block its escape while Mot literally cut the animal’s throat. Tom had been on wild pig hunts before where this kind of hunting had been done with dogs.
Given the speed and strength of the Arzats,
he thought,
it just might work.

  “Just remember, if the herd suddenly moves as a group, or something goes wrong, you will both head toward the end of the canyon and climb up to where I will be, right?” Tom was worried. Even the Arzats would be no match for an angry herd of stampeding buffalo. Though they were much faster, if one of them slipped or fell . . .

  “Yes, Tom, son of Richard,” both of the Arzats telepathically replied in unison. Mot was very familiar with this tactic and would have suggested it himself if the Pilot hadn’t come up with it.

  Tom took out the long knife, the one thing he had managed to save from the ARC. “Okay, Mot. Guard it with your life,” he said, handing it to him handle first.

  Mot took it, carefully testing the blade, happy to have a weapon back in his hand.
A good killing stick would be much better,
he thought,
but this will have to work in the meantime.

*  *  *

It took the three of them over an hour to work their way around the herd without spooking it. Finally, when Tom thought they were in the right position, he sent Mot and Ara to creep toward the edge of the herd as he retreated to the opening of the small box canyon. He climbed up onto a large rock that served as one side of the canyon’s entrance to watch the action.

  Mot and Ara approached the beasts cautiously, as Tom the Pilot had instructed. Even though these creatures did not appear to have the teeth or dangerous claws that the Arzats were used to, there were a lot of them, and they were large.

  “Do you think they are fast?” Ara asked Mot silently.

  “I’m not sure, Ara. Based on their size and the length of their legs, I would say no. I think we will soon find out.”

  The Arzats picked out one of the beast’s offspring and moved in slowly, creeping low on all fours through the tall grass. The animals snorted and stomped around, becoming more restless the closer Mot and Ara came to them. Mot tested the air often. Fortunately for the Arzats, the breeze continued to cooperate with their approach.

  When they were just a few steps away, one of the females bolted. The Arzats rose up and ran toward its calf. As the Pilot had predicted, the rest of the herd panicked and started to move as well, like an enormous ripple through water. But the hunters were in front of their target before the animal could even see them, waving their arms and crying out in a preternatural howl. The calf let out a bellow of its own and began running exactly in the direction of the canyon with the Arzats flanking—Ara on one side and Mot on the other.

  Tom could feel the ground shake as the main herd began to stampede. He watched as the calf darted, trying desperately to turn back and get to its mother. Each time it did, one of the Arzats would masterfully block its way, cutting off its escape route.

  When the calf finally ran into the canyon, Tom scrambled down from the rocks to help block the way back out. The calf ran to the dead end and turned back toward the entrance, still mewing and calling for its mother and breathing heavily, its eyes rolling in its head with fear. It ran in circles, vainly looking for a way of escape until it was completely winded. The calf finally paused, totally exhausted, looking wide-eyed at the three strange beings that blocked its way.

  Mot approached the animal slowly, waiting for the perfect opportunity. Then, he moved so swiftly that Tom had trouble following him with his eyes. The calf was suddenly bleeding profusely from the neck and Mot was already back at the canyon entrance—blocking it again—with the bloody knife in his hand. He positioned himself to help Ara and Tom fend off the wounded creature as it headed toward them in a panic, now heedless of the Arzats or Tom.

  Tom suddenly realized that the calf, wounded or not, might very well run him over. He turned and scrambled for the protection of the high rocks, certain he was about to be trampled. Tom could hear the calf running behind him and could almost feel its breath. Just as he felt he was about to be struck, an Arzat’s strong hand lifted him and carried him up the rocks, as if they were flying.

  “You must be more careful, Pilot Tom,” Ara told him, as she gently sat him down on the rock formation.

  Tom watched as she easily leapt the ten or more feet back to the ground.

  The calf was almost out of the canyon, but Mot was on the animal’s back, trying to wrestle it down. Ara ran and jumped on the animal’s hindquarters, violently attacking with the force of her entire body. The combined weight of the two Arzats proved too much for the calf. It stumbled, gave a brief cry, and finally surrendered to its inevitable death.

  Tom looked down at the two reptilian creatures as they hovered over their kill. Mot carefully examined the animal to be sure it was dead while Ara instinctively surveyed the area for danger, flicking and sniffing the air.
Natural born predators in their own natural element,
Tom thought, watching the two of them, completely amazed at what he had just witnessed.

  The Arzats seemed to have heard him and looked back in his direction with their strange prehistoric eyes. Then they let out a triumphant preternatural howl in perfect unison that ricocheted off of the canyon walls.

  There would be dinner tonight.