Actually, I understood it better than Loor, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t confused.
What we were both squared off against, ready to battle, was a penguin. I’m serious. A two-foot-tall, black and white penguin. The goofy little bird stood in the center of the trough, staring at us as if to say, “Who are you two clowns?”
“Is it dangerous?” Loor asked, confused.
It was actually funny seeing Loor coiled up, ready to battle a little penguin. I guess it’s more funny now as I think back on it. At the time I didn’t feel like laughing.
The amplified voice boomed one more time. “You have been warned.”
What followed can be best described as obliteration. Both flying vehicles unloaded their weapons on the building. One drifted slowly to the right, the other to the left, as they launched a series of missiles at the already damaged structure. Sharp pieces of stone flew everywhere. That broke the penguin’s cool, and it waddled off quickly. Fire erupted inside the building, licking out of the glassless windows. Thick black smoke billowed from every crack, new and old, like blood pouring from open wounds. If any of the Travelers were in there, they were going to get hurt. Badly. I made a move to jump up onto the lip of the trough to see if anybody needed help, but Loor held me back.
“What would you do?” she said calmly.
She was right. There was nothing to do but watch and hope.
“Look!” she declared.
On the far left end of the building, people were crawling out of a window, escaping. People we didn’t recognize. They wore raggy, nondescript clothes. I guess back home in
Connecticut I’d say they looked like homeless people. They didn’t quite look Flighter nasty, but they were definitely people who were having a rough time. A few of the men actually wore what looked like ragged business suits. Some women wore blue jeans and sweaters. There were a couple of kids, too.
A powerful-looking guy with long black hair that touched his shoulders stood outside the window, helping the others out. He wore jeans and a faded, torn sweatshirt. It looked as if he were in charge. At the very least he was taking control of the situation. He seemed more worried about getting the others to safety than about his own getaway.
The gunships hadn’t seen them. Yet. They continued their methodical move toward each end of the building, firing away.
The guy with the black hair was doing all he could to get those still inside to hurry. He was too far away for me to see exactly what he looked like. He wasn’t big, but he was strong. His chin was covered with thick beard stubble. He pulled the others out of the building, mostly helping the smaller children to safety. He waved for them to pick up the pace. No sooner did he help one person down than he reached back to get the next.
“Brave man,” Loor said under her breath.
From Loor that was high praise.
“He’d better get out of there,” I said.
The missiles were drawing closer to the escapees. The brave guy kept glancing at the approaching helicopter, calculating how much time he had, trying to get as many people to safety as possible before jamming out of there himself.
The barrage stopped. For a second I thought it was over. It wasn’t. I quickly realized what was happening. Whoever was piloting the craft had finally spotted the runners. The second gunship stopped firing and flew quickly to join the first. They must have been in communication. They hovered, side by side, their rocket launchers rotating slowly toward the window where the frightened people were making their escape.
The brave guy didn’t stop pulling people out. As each new person dropped out of the window, they jumped up and ran off, leaving him to his work.
“There is no longer a need to fire,” Loor announced. “They have found their quarry.”
“I wonder if he’s going to surrender,” I said.
The attackers didn’t make another announcement. They didn’t ask the people to stop running and come forward. They didn’t land and take prisoners.
They opened fire.
Both gunships unloaded on the building. The people in the window jumped back inside, but there was no way they could survive the barrage. The brave guy who helped so many escape dove around the corner of the building. I didn’t know if he lived or died. One thing was for sure, whoever these people were, they did not want to be taken alive, though from the looks of things, the attackers weren’t there for prisoners.
“It’s a slaughter,” I declared.
Another sound broke through the torrent of rocket fire and exploding stone. A sound that made no sense. It was hollow and haunted, like the bellow of a forlorn animal. It was loud, and it was coming from behind us. I turned quickly to see that we were no longer alone in that deep, concrete trough. Standing a few yards away was a very large, very angry polar bear. Loor and I froze.
Its eyes were wild and scared. It seemed to be just as terrified of the bombing as the victims were. Maybe more so. There was nowhere for us to go. The trough was only five yards wide. Its walls were too high for us to scale quickly. At least, quickly enough to escape if the bear decided it didn’t like us. We could always turn and run, but judging from the size of the bear, it would be on us with a single leap. We both realized that we had only one choice. If the bear were to attack, we would have to fight.
“Maybe it’s tame,” I whispered, without taking my eyes off the behemoth.
As if in answer, the bear reared up on its hind legs, towering over us. It held up two mighty paws with dangerously long claws, howled… and attacked.
It wasn’t tame.
Chapter 2
We had no time to react. Loor brought her stave forward. I turned sideways, poised to deflect a mighty swipe from the bear’s huge paw. Or to duck under it. The monster’s front paws hit the ground, and it bounded through the trough, charging us.
It never made it.
With a snarl and a flash, a large jungle cat leaped from the boulders encircled by the dry moat, landing on the bear’s back. The surprised animal reared again, but the cat didn’t back off. It dug its own claws into the bear’s neck, locking its teeth onto the animal’s shoulder. This was no ordinary cat.
It was Kasha, the Traveler from Eelong.
She clung to the polar bear tenaciously as the angry animal swung its head to try to fling her off. It was a disturbing sight in more ways than one. These were two wild animals, locked in battle. There were no rules. No restrictions. For all I knew it would be a battle to the death. It was gruesome. Making it all the more surreal was the fact that one of the animals was Kasha. I had seen her die a few years before, when she was crushed by falling rocks as the flume on Eelong crumbled. Yet there she was, about as alive as you can get, locked in a vicious blood battle with an enraged bear.
Loor tried to get in a shot with her stave to help Kasha, but the fight was too violent. The huge bear thrashed wildly. There was nothing she could do. One stray swipe of the bear’s claws and she could have lost an arm. I pulled Loor back and shoved her toward the outer wall of the trough. We both jumped up, grabbed the edge, and hoisted ourselves up and out. The fight was left to Kasha. She would either triumph or die. Again.
She clung tenaciously to the back of the bear. The bear knew it was losing. It did all it could to shake her. Finally the behemoth hurled itself against the inner wall. Kasha wasn’t ready for that. She was jolted and flung off the bear’s back. She landed in the bottom of the dry moat, stunned but not out. She quickly sprang back to her feet, or paws, ready to attack again.
Blood streamed from the bear’s wounds, glowing crimson against its dirty white fur. A tense moment followed. Would it attack or retreat? I think the bear was debating the same question, and finally came to the right conclusion. It had had enough. It didn’t want any part of Kasha. With one last tortured bellow, it reared up, spun, and bounded away, headed for the far side of the trough. In a surprisingly graceful leap for an animal so immense,
