Read Darwin's Quest: The Search for the Ultimate Survivor Online
Authors: Jonathan P. Brazee
Chapter 17
I was with Mike, over near the toilet. The reek of it was pretty strong, but we must have been getting used to it. Or maybe we were just too tired to care. None of us had gotten much sleep.
Ratt had ignored Mike all the rest of the day before and all night as well. She blamed Mike, and Mike blamed himself as well. I was trying to console him, but only with limited success.
“But it was my fault. I was the one who said it was safe.”
“How were you to know? I sure didn’t.”
“No, I might not have been able to know, but I should’ve kept my mouth shut. But, as always, I have to show off. I have to show I’m smarter than everyone else.”
“Well, you are pretty smart,” I countered.
“About some things, maybe. But I always have to be right. And that killed Yash.” He paused for a moment. “I’ve been showing off my knowledge of dinosaurs since you first ran into the T-Rex. I thought it was great. I could show you guys and the viewers how smart I am. I’m not as strong as you guys. Hell, even Alfhid is stronger than me. So I had to do something to show I was worth winning. But these things aren’t real dinosaurs. They’re the creation of some guy over at DreamWorks. They’re what they think the viewers want. Blue and gold so they show up on the holo? No problem! Able to move around in the cool air so they can work a morning challenge and the holo can be broadcast in prime time? No problem!” He sounded bitter.
“But how were you to know that?”
“That’s just it. I didn’t know it. But instead of just acknowledging it, I had to come down from on high, the all-knowing Michael Takechi of Mars. I can’t leave it alone. If I don’t know something, I can’t admit it, and I just say what I think might be right.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I didn’t say anything, and we lapsed into an uneasy silence. Finally, I stood up and clamped him on the shoulder before moving back to the others. Mike would have to work this out for himself. And we needed him to.
It was Borlinga who got him out of his shell, at least temporarily. When we had shoved our spears into the dinosaur, an Albertosaurus, Mike called it, we had broken off the stone tips. So she carried the four broken spears to him and dropped them at his feet.
“Your skill is this. Now you use your skill. These you fix.” She walked away.
Mike stared at them for a few moments before standing and picking them up. He brought them back toward the fire, then started scrounging among the rock pile for good pieces. Before too long, he was humming as he flaked the stones. Lindadawn smiled at Borlinga who winked back at her.
I looked over to Yash. His skin was bloating, and we could begin to smell him even over the stench of the toilet. It seemed that his body shouldn’t be decomposing so quickly, but there it was. No one wanted to say it, but it was probably too late for him to be resurrected. And we couldn’t keep his body here forever. But a little longer couldn’t hurt.
We were getting pretty hungry, and as Mike quietly knapped new spear heads, our talk turned to food. Lindadawn repeated much of our conversation from the previous morning, and we were trying to figure out where food might be. Alfhid seemed to recall slipping on some fruit-like things during our initial rush toward Haven, but she didn’t recognize what they might be. Borlinga mentioned that birds liked to nest on rocks, and since there were birds on the Reservation, that instigated a rush of us climbing over the rocks of our small Haven, looking for nests and eggs. We didn’t find any, and Alfhid almost fell off the rocks above us forming our little amphitheater-like camp, so we stopped that.
Ratt had been pretty quiet, but she finally spoke up. “Why are we talking about finding food? I mean, uh, shouldn’t we be trying to get out of here? Away from these killer dinosaurs?”
“We’ve already tried that. We went to Production City, but you saw what was in there, sticking its head out the door,” Hamlin responded. His fight the day before seemed to have brought him back out of his self-imposed shell a bit, back to the old Hamlin.
“But what about, you know, outside the whole reservation?”
“You mean, outside the barrier? But we don’t even know what’s out there. Or even what planet we’re on,” Lindadawn replied.
“Yea, but we can be pretty sure there’s no dinosaurs out there, and that’s a plus in my book. And we can wait there for rescue. Even if we have to wait another week for a ship from Earth, I can go without food for that long.”
I wasn’t quite so sure it would be that easy. While I was hopeful that someone was coming for us, I was not as confident that any ship would have been dispatched right away, or that they knew back at GBC headquarters that whatever catastrophe had struck Production City hadn’t hit us here. And even if help was arriving, I wasn’t sure that a trek to get through the barrier was a good idea.
“You’re assuming that the barrier is off,” Mike interjected from where he was knapping.
“The power’s off, so it has to be off,” countered Ratt.
“But the river is still running.”
“I still think we should try.”
The discussion dragged on. Alfhid sided with Ratt, no big surprise. But Borlinga and Hamlin also seemed to find the idea attractive. As night approached, we decided to shelve the issue until the next day.
Chapter 18
By mid-morning the next day, we were no closer to a decision about trying to get past the barrier. But we were getting closer to a decision on Yash. His body was decomposing quickly. We had to do something. Finally, we decided to give him to the river.
I took the cloth knife belt, which he’d called a gatra, and slung it over my head, whispering apologies to him. But we needed the knife more than he did. Hamlin, Alfhid, and I carried his body, the rest following. At the edge of the cliff, we paused.
“Uh, does anyone want to say something?” asked Hamlin.
Ratt stepped up, clearing her throat. “Yash Singh was a good man, a good friend. Please, God of the Sikhs, take your son Yash and keep him safe until his beloved wife can join him.”
She stepped back, and with a soft “one, two, three,” we rolled him over the edge. He plunged into the water, disappearing from view. A distant roar from Indian Country seemed to salute his passage.
Subdued, we walked back to the camp. We still had to make a decision about the barrier. It became evident to me that enough of the others wanted to try for it that the decision had been made. The question now was how we would try it.
The barrier surrounded the Reservation, keeping the wildlife in as well as any required terraforming. Some pundits thought the barrier went as far as keeping enough air in the Reservation, meaning it was on an uninhabitable world. Others opined that the barrier was proof that the Reservation was hidden on a colonized world, and that it protected the people there. Every couple of months or so, someone came online with “proof” as to where the Reservation was located. But so far, the location had remained hidden, despite there only being a limited number of places close enough to Earth to fit the bill.
While we didn’t have a map, we knew the general layout was that on one side of the Reservation was Production City, which abutted the barrier so that ships could come in and out through an aperture in it. On the other side was Haven. Our bridge took us back toward the center of the reservation. The barrier had to be behind us. But there was no way there. The River Beagle flowed around our island, and on the other side, cliffs rose up from the river’s edge.
No one wanted to go back to Production City. So our only choice was to go the back way. It took awhile, but we finally had a plan, though I didn’t think much of it.
We were going to need more rope, using just about all of the vines we had. We would climb the rocks making our camp on the back side, then using Hamlin as an anchor, the rest of us would lower ourselves down to the water. Hamlin had to stay on Haven as he was the only one of us who could hold the rope, there being nothing we could tie it to even if it was long enough. If we found the barrier, and if we decided to leave the reservation, we would come back for him. If we did all cross the river, though, that was it. There would be no turning back.
Once the rest of us were down, Borlinga would swim one end of the other rope across the river, then walk it back opposite to us and secure it somehow. If she couldn’t, or if she got swept away, we would haul her back and give up. If she could, we would use the rope to cross over, then make our way up the cliff face and to the barrier, however far it might be from there.
It took us an hour or two to get ready, making more rope and even harnesses for our spears. But finally, we were ready to go. We opened the door to the toilet to climb up it and give us a boost, but it wasn’t too hard to make it up to the top. Peering over the edge of the cliff we could see that the river didn’t look too wide on the back side of Haven. Hamlin walked the edge, looking for a good place to brace himself. Finally, he sat down and braced his legs, crossing his back for further support.
I sat in front of him, my legs almost over the edge as Lindadawn went over, her foot wrapped around the rope. I could feel the jerking as she descended. Borlinga, watching over the edge, signaled to us that she was down. The next four went down, one after the other. All of them could climb, so we didn’t tie each person as we had when we’d gone to get the fish.
Then it was my turn. Hamlin flexed his hands. “Go down smoothly, OK? Try not to jerk too much.”
I nodded, then went over the edge. I scraped myself along the rocks, glad for my jeans. I wondered about Borlinga, still in her underwear, and Alfhid, still topless. Soon enough, though, I was down, joining the others on a crowded ledge. Hamlin lowered the other rope to us, and we held tightly as he tossed the other end out into the water so as not to hit us. We hauled it back and tied one end to the descending rope, one end around Borlinga.
The river wasn’t very wide here, maybe only twenty meters or so. And the water was calmer, even if it did still flow at a good clip. Mike mentioned that they probably sent most of the water there on the other side and only sent enough on this side to make haven an island. So if Borlinga could make it across before both currents merged, is should be pretty easy.
With the rope around her, she walked along the rocks toward the upstream tip of the island. She didn’t quite make it before the rope gave out, so we all shifted a bit to give her the longest possible stretch of relatively calm water.
She gave us an arm signal, and poised over the edge. Diving out, she might have made it three meters or so, but the rope jerked her around in middive, and she sprawled awkwardly with a splash and started being swept downstream. She quickly oriented herself, though, and started swimming with a sure, strong stroke. By the time the water had swept her even with us, she was already more than halfway across. And by the time she reached the end of Haven, she was less than five meters from the shore, but the rope was running out of length. If she reached the end, that would act as a pivot and she would be swept back and into the torrent.
“Shift down,” shouted Lindadawn, and we all shuffled downstream, giving Borlinga a few more feet of rope.
Just as at the trout pool, there was a very distinct boundary between the raging water and the calmer section, but Borlinga was right at the edge. With one superwoman lunge, she grabbed a hold of a rock on the opposite side just as she came to the end of her rope and her legs got caught up by the faster main current.
She couldn’t even stand, being caught by the opposing forces. But she was able to drag herself back upstream a meter or so, then climb out. She had made it! Carefully walking back upstream among the rocks of the far bank, she reached the side directly opposite us. We had to pull in the excess rope, afraid that too much in the water would drag her back in.
Searching the far bank, she couldn’t seem to find anywhere to secure her end of the rope. Finally, she just looped it over a protruding rock, then leaned back in the water, using her weight to keep in steady. She turned her head to look back over her shoulder and yelled for Ratt to come over.
I was supposed to come over next, but with only her weight holding the rope around the rock, it made sense the Ratt go before me. Ratt took hold of the rope, and pulling it against her chest, she made her way, hand-over-hand, to the other side. Although the water kept pulling her feet under the rope and trying to drag her downstream, the current wasn’t quite strong enough to take her, and she made it over. We could see Borlinga talking to her, and then she was back in the water, hugging her back and lending her slight weight to holding the rope in place.
Lindadawn was next to go over, and she made it easily. Instead of getting in the water, she stayed on the rocks, putting her feet on the rope, pushing it against the rock anchor.
Mike was next. He was hesitant, and he made his way slowly. His face kept getting dunked under, and he came up sputtering each time. Several times, he hugged the rope tightly, not moving at all. We shouted at him to keep going each time he stopped. He was almost to the other side when he couldn’t hold himself against the rope any longer, and he was pushed downstream, hanging onto the rope with only his hands. The water kept washing over his face, and he struggled to catch his breath.
Alfhid had been holding the rope steady on this side, trying to keep it from oscillating in the current, but she released it to go after him. But there was no way Mike could hold on long enough for her to get there. And as soon as he lost his grip, he would be gone.
Lindadawn stood up on the rock, then leapt into the water above the rope, legs split fore and aft, hands out to her side. That kept her head above water as the current immediately pushed her to the rope. I grabbed Alfhid, afraid that with three in the water, Borlinga and Ratt couldn’t hold on and all of them would be lost.
Two pulls with her arms and Lindadawn was at Mike. She reached over the rope and grabbed his forearms. The current swept her legs up, and she wrapped them under Mike’s arms and across his chest.
“Pull!” I could hear her shout.
It looked like he was trying, but each time he move back against the current, he fell back.
With the rope crushed against her chest, she started to crab along it, legs still locked around Mike. It seemed that his face was under the water more than it was out of it, but she got him to slide his hands with her, moving them to the shore.
Borlinga was straining. I could see her arms quivering as she pulled back, forcing the rope against the rock face. Ratt just hung onto her like a leach.
Finally, they made it to the shore. Mike struggled to get his feet under him, but he made it and both of them crawled back up onto the rocks where they lay panting. After a few moments, Lindadawn got up and waved back to us. Borlinga held up her hand, though, in a halt signal. She obviously had to gather herself.
“That was pretty interesting,” Alfhid said to me, a gross understatement.
“I was thinking heart-stopping myself.”
We waited for about five minutes before Borlinga got back in position and signaled us. This time, Lindadawn was in the water with her, and Ratt and Mike had their feet against the rope on the other side of the rock.
“Wish me luck!” Alfhid said as she slipped into the water. But with sure pulls with her arms, she made it across in short shrift. What else did I expect from our resident Valkryie?
Alfhid took Borlinga’s position on the rope, and it was my turn. I stepped into the water, immediately feeling its pull. I was able to walk out almost five meters or so before it got deep enough for the current to grab my feet and lift them up, downstream of the rope. I used my chest as a stop, and brought myself arm-over-arm across the water. The free end of my spear kept banging into my head, but that was more annoying than anything else. About five meters from the far bank, I pushed my feet down and felt bottom, so I stood and walked my way in the last bit.
Borlinga let out a sigh as I clambered out of the water.
“Holy crap, I’m glad that’s over. I thought we were goners for sure when Lindadawn jumped in, but with Super Ratt here, we hung on.”
Mike was pale and quiet, but he nodded. “I pretty much thought that was it for me, too. Thanks, all of you.”
I gave his shoulder a squeeze as I passed him. Looking back, I could see Hamlin on top of the island, looking at us. I waved, and he waved back.
“What do we do about the rope?” Ratt asked.
She was right. Without an anchor to which we could tie it, the rope would fall into the river and be taken downstream. It would still be attached on the other side, but out of our reach.
“Someone’s going to have to stay here and mind it,” Lindadawn said the obvious.
I started looking at the others, but Ratt spoke up.
“It’s OK. I’ll mind it.”
“You sure?” I asked her.
“I’m the obvious choice. You guys are needed more for anything you might find.” She shrugged. “Really, it’s OK.”
“That’s that, then,” Lindadawn said. “Well, we’d better get going.”
Climbing this side of the river was anti-climatic. It was really quite easy with plenty of hand and footholds and a steep but manageable slope. We all got to the top easily to find a flat, graded path along the ridgeline. Faint vehicle tracks could be seen in the dirt. Across the river, Hamlin waved again. He was only thirty or forty meters away.