Jungle Of Steel And Stone (11 page)

Still sniffing and growling, the animal moves forward until Veil can see it; it is a dog, but unlike any he had ever seen before. This animal is all black. Muscles ripple beneath its sleek, glistening hide, and its bare fangs are white and unchipped. The dog's tail appears to have been torn off in a fight, for it is no more than a lump on the animal's hindquarters.

Breathing evenly and staring directly into the dog's eyes, Veil gropes with his right hand for his spear. Suddenly the black dog snaps at his face, and Veil moves his head aside just in time to avoid the animal's sharp fangs. At the same moment his fingers touch the shaft of his spear. He grips the shaft and rolls hard to his left, lunging directly at the startled animal and driving the spearhead deep into its throat.

The dog coughs a thick spray of blood and saliva, then shudders and collapses without a sound across Veil's chest. Veil immediately presses his mouth to the animal's throat and drinks the nourishing blood that pulses from the severed jugular. The blood hits Veil's stomach with the force of a physical blow; its effects spread quickly throughout his body, warming him and lending him strength. He is still drinking in great, deep gulps when the animal's heart finally stops beating.

The Nal-toon is merciful, Veil thinks; evidently satisfied with the courage he has displayed up to this point, God has provided him with the food he needs to go on.

His strength replenished, Veil carefully wraps the Nal-toon in a piece of
clothes,
then places God under the overhang, out of the rain. He drags the dog's carcass under the ledge, then meticulously smooths out all signs of struggle and death from the sand. He builds a small fire, then dresses the cauterized wound in his left shoulder with herbs from his medicine pouch and strips of
clothes.

Reasonably free of pain, with his belly full and his mind in peaceful communion with God, Veil once again lies down and drifts off to sleep within sleep.

In Veil's dream, his Toby has lost track of the time that has passed since he found sanctuary in
Centralpark,
but the wound in his shoulder is now almost completely healed. Also, there has been such an abundance of food in this jungle that his normally lean body has begun to show traces of fat.

While the first dog had been delivered to him by the Nal-toon, he has had to stalk the others he has eaten. The water in the large pool nearby is not as sweet as that in the desert, but Veil has never seen water in such quantity; here it is not necessary to quickly scoop it up and store it in eggs before it seeps into the ground. He has been free to drink his fill each night, and this has made the long, hot, and waterless days spent hiding under the ledge easily bearable.

Now he feels strong and rested, and he knows that it is time to begin his journey to the vast, smooth, stone fields where the
airplanes
stay. There, he thinks, the
airplane
that brought him to
Newyorkcity
will be waiting to take him home. The Nal-toon will make sure that it is so.

Veil made no attempt to remember the many bends and sharp turns in the
streets
Reyna used to bring him from the
airplane
fields to the Nal-toon; there had been no need, for Veil does not travel on
streets.
He had carefully noted the position of the setting sun—first at the
airplane
field and again at the place where he had found the Nal-toon. The two sightings are all he needs, and he knows the precise direction in which he must travel to reach the
airplane
fields. The sun, and the stars at night, will guide him there.

It is night now, and the full moon is partially obscured by clouds. With
Centralpark
free of
Newyorkcities,
he goes to the pool to drink and wash himself. Once again, as on other still nights, he hears the roar and cough of great hunting cats; the sounds seem close, to the east. Veil has become increasingly puzzled by the sounds, for they would seem to indicate that there are hunting cats in
Newyorkcity,
yet he has never found any spoor.

The
clothes
given to him by the missionaries have become shredded and filthy, an affront to his senses. He removes them, washes them as best he can, and, from the strips, fashions a loincloth, a cloak to ward off the night chill, and a carrying sling.

He walks to the crest of a hill and takes his bearings, using a tall
building
in the distance as his first landmark. He carries enough strips of dried dog meat in his sling to last many days; he wishes he had an egg in which to carry water but he does not, and he does not dwell on the problem. Water seems to be plentiful in
Newyorkcity.

Drenched in moonlight, Veil stands perfectly still for a few minutes, closing his eyes as he offers thanks to the Nal-toon and prays for a safe journey home so that his people may survive. Then he hitches his sling with its precious contents over his shoulder, grips his spear in his right hand, and starts down the hill.

He retraces his original route, skirting the large, open meadow by moving, as silently as his moon-shadow, through the encircling trees. Finally he comes to a wide, stone path which he must cross. He crouches, listening, but can hear nothing but the intermittent whine of
cars
on the
street
a hundred or so running-steps to his right. He straightens up and steps out onto the stone path.

Suddenly two
Newyorkcities
leap out from behind a tree.

"Hold it, turkey!"

Veil stops and assumes a fighting stance. He knows that he cannot hope to escape with the Nal-toon in the sling weighing him down, and so he will have to fight. He waits calmly, body half turned and spear arm cocked, as the warriors approach. Veil is relieved to see that the men carry only knives and not bang-sticks.

"Hey, Mason.' Will you look at this turkey? He's gotta be stone crazy."

"Fuckin loony, all right."

The taller of the two men approaches, waving his knife back and forth in front of his body, then stops a few paces away from Veil.
"What's in the sack, man?"

Veil cannot understand the warrior's words, but their threatening tone is unmistakable. He considers his options, then decides that it would be better not to battle the two
Newyorkcities
if there is any way to avoid it. To fight, he must set down the Nal-toon, and he does not wish to do this. Also, a wound—even if not fatal—could force him to go to ground again in
Centralpark,
perhaps for many more days. He wants to go home. Courage, he thinks, must always be tempered by wisdom.

"Let me pass," Veil says evenly, using his free hand to make the sign of truce used by both K'ung and Bantu.

The short man frowns.
"Christ, Blade, you ever hear anyone talk like that?"

The other man shakes his head.
"I ain't sure it's real talk at all. I think he's just makin' crazy noises."

"Hand over the sack, man!"

"Hey, watch out for that pig-sticker he's got."

"Shit. I'm gonna hang that spear on my wall. You circle around on his ass. First one with an open shot cuts out the fucker's heart."

Veil shifts his weight to his opposite foot and hefts his spear as the short man begins circling to his left. The
Newyorkcities
are leaving him no choice, he thinks. Their intentions are clear, and he wastes no further time in waiting. Suddenly he leaps forward, thrusting the spearhead through the taller man's throat.

Anticipating a knife thrust from his left flank, Veil spins away from the expected direction of attack, freeing the spearhead from the dead man's neck with a flick of his wrist. He ends in a crouch, weight slightly forward on the balls of his feet, spear held ready to impale the other attacker.

But the second man makes no move of any kind. He stands very still, hands shaking at his sides as he stares in horror at the nearly decapitated body spouting blood over the stone path.

"Shit, man, you killed him! You killed Mason!"

Veil takes two running-steps and thrusts with his spear. The man screeches and tries to twist away, but the spearhead slices into his shoulder. Veil pulls back the spear, and the man slumps to the ground. Veil leaps into position to make a kill-thrust, but the pitiful helplessness and strange behavior of the man cowering on the stone path makes him hesitate.

The
Newyorkcity
warrior is crying. His face is wet with tears.

"Holy shit. You gonna kill me too? Don't kill me, man. I'm really sorry."

At first Veil is confused by the tears in the man's eyes, then he is disgusted; never before has he seen a warrior weep. "I will not kill you," Veil says contemptuously as he picks up the knife the man has dropped and puts it into his sling. "Give thanks to the Nal-toon."

Immediately dismissing the battle with the two
Newyorkcities
from his mind, Veil moves across the stone path and into a thin line of trees. There he crouches and peers over the top of the stone wall that separates
Centralpark
from the rest of
Newyorkcity.
The
street,
filled with
cars
when he first ran across it, is now almost empty.

Veil climbs over the wall and races across the
street
to a dark area between two
buildings.
He presses back against one of the
buildings
and waits, watching and listening. There are no shouts or wailing sounds, no sign that anyone has seen him.

He goes on, sprinting from one shadow-area to another, until he eventually finds his way blocked by a
building
unlike any he has seen before. It is not as tall as many of the others he has passed, but it sprawls for a considerable distance to both the north and south, blocking his path.
Newyorkcities
in white
clothes
go in and out of its many openings.

He finds a way around the
building,
then turns east again. He walks across a stone field filled with empty
cars,
climbs over a metal barrier, and drops to the grassy earth on the other side. He crosses a very wide
street,
then crouches and stares in awe at the vast, swiftly moving body of water Reyna had called a
river.
He has never imagined there could be so much water in one place, water that seems to flow forever, with no beginning and no end.

In the middle of the
river,
directly in his path, is land with
buildings
on it. He must somehow reach that land, Veil thinks; the sky is beginning to glow, and he needs a place to go to ground during the day when the
Newyorkcities
come out.

He has no idea how deep this
river
is; the water is too murky to tell. However deep it is, it must be crossed. He will have to wade and trust in the Nal-toon to see him safely across. He is running out of time.

The
river
may well come up to his neck, Veil thinks, and he does not want the Nal-toon to get wet. He removes the sling from around his neck, wraps it tightly around the Nal-toon, the spear, and the knife. Holding the bundle above his head, he begins to walk down the steep incline leading to the
river.