Radio
… they heard in their minds.
Now he reached down into the mess on the floor and dislodged a chunk of rusted metal. Gun
, he said, showing it to Geo.
The three men examined it. “What’s it good for?” asked Urson.
Snake shrugged.
“Are there any electricities, or diodes around?” asked Geo, remembering the words from before.
Snake shrugged again.
“Why did you want to show us all this?” Geo asked.
The boy only turned and started back toward the door. When they were standing in the oval entrance, about to climb down, Iimmi pointed to the ruins of the building ahead of them. “Do you know what that building was called?”
Barracks
, Snake said.
“I know that word,” said Geo.
“So do I,” said Iimmi. “It means a place where they used to keep soldiers all together. It’s from one of the old languages.”
“Where to now?” Urson asked Snake.
The boy climbed back down into the clearing and they followed him into the denser wood where only pearls of light scattered through the trees. They emerged at a broad ribbon of silver, the river, broken by rocks.
“We were right the first time,” Geo said. “We should have stayed here.”
The sound of rippling, sloshing, the full whisper of leaves and foliage along the edges of the forest—these accompanied them as they lay down on the dried moss behind the larger rocks. And with the heaviness of release on them, they dropped, like stones down a well, the bright pool of sleep.
The bright pool of silver grew and spread and wrinkled into the familiar shapes of mast, the rail of the deck, and the whiteness of the sea beyond the ship. The scene moved down the deck, until another gaunt figure approached from the other direction. The features, though strangely distorted by whiteness and pulled to grotesquerie, were recognizable as those of the captain as he drew near.
“Oh, mate,” said the captain.
Silence, while the mate gave an answer they couldn’t hear.
“Yes,” answered the captain. “I wonder what she wants, too.” His voice was hollow, etiolated like a flower grown in darkness. The captain turned and knocked on Argo’s cabin door. It opened, and they stepped in.
The hand that opened the door for them was thin as winter twigs. The walls of the room seemed draped in spider webs and hangings insubstantial as layered dust. The great desk seemed spindly, grotesque, and the papers on top of it were tissue thin, threatening to scutter and crumble with a breath. The chandelier above gave more languishing white smoke than light, and the arms, branches, and complexed array of oil cups looked like a convocation of spiders.
Argo spoke in a pale white voice that sounded like the whisper of thin fingers tearing webs.
“So,” she said. “We will stay at least another seven days.”
“But why?” asked the captain.
“I have received a sign from the sea.”
“I do not wish to question your authority, Priestess,” began the captain.
“Then do not,” interrupted Argo.
“My mate has raised the objection that …”
“Your mate has raised his hand to me once,” stated the Priestess. “It is only in my benevolence …” Here she paused, and her voice became more unsure, “… that I do not destroy him where he stands.” Beneath, her veil, a face could be made out that might have belonged to a dried skull.
“But,” began the captain.
“We wait here by the island of Aptor another seven days,” commanded Argo. She looked away from the captain now, in a direction that must have been straight into the eyes of the mate. From behind the veil, hate welled like living liquid from the seemingly empty sockets. They turned to go, and once more on deck, they stopped to watch the sea. Near the indistinct horizon, a sharp tongue of land outlined itself with mountains. The cliffs were chalky on one side, then streaked with red and blue clays on the other. There was a reddish glow beyond one mountain, like the shimmering of a volcano. And dark as most of it was, it was a distinct darkness, backed with purple, or broken by the warm, differing grays of individual rocks. Even through the night, at this distance, beyond the silver crescent of the beach, the jungle looked rich, green even in the darkness, redolently full and quiveringly heavy with life.
And then the thin screams …
VI
Geo rolled over and out of sleep, stones and moss beneath his shoulder. He grabbed his sword and was on his feet instantly. Iimmi was also standing with raised blade. The river sloshed coldly behind them.
The thin screaming came again, like a hot wire drawn down the gelid morning. Snake and Urson were also up, now. The sounds came from the direction of the ruined barracks. Geo started forward, cautiously, curiosity drawing him toward the sound, fear sending him from the relatively unprotected bank and into the woods. The others followed him.
Abruptly they reached the edge of the forest’s wall, beyond which was the clear space before the broken building. They crouched now, behind the trees, watching, fascinated.
Between ape and man, it hovered at the edge of the forest in the shadow. It was Snake’s height, but more of Urson’s build. An animal pelt wrapped its middle and went over its shoulder, clothing it more fully than either of the four humans were clothed. Thick-footed, great-handed, it loped four steps into the clearing, uttered its piercing shriek, and fell on a hunk of flesh that last night’s beasts had dropped from the sky. Its head rocked back and forth as it tore at its food. Once it raised its head and a sliver of flesh shook from its teeth before the face dropped again to devour.
They watched the huge fingers upon broad flat palms, tipped with bronze-colored claws, convulse again and again, reflexively, into the gray, fibrous meat while the fanged mouth ripped.
Whether it was a shift of breeze, or a final reflex, Geo couldn’t tell, but one of the membranous sails raised darkly and beat about the oblivious animal that fed
