Alien Child (21 page)

He nodded. As they moved toward the hill, she looked to her side, certain that she had seen something moving in the grass.

“I think we’re being followed,” she whispered. They strode to the hill more rapidly, the robot trailing them. This slope was not much higher than the surrounding land, but she could now see that a small band of furry animals was moving toward them. One lifted its head and howled.

“Wolves,” she murmured, recalling images she had seen. The wolf pack watched the gardener as it floated up the hill; the animals seemed curious and unafraid.

She aimed at the pack and fired; one wolf yelped as the beam struck the ground near him. The wolves fled; she and Sven continued to fire after them until she was convinced they were gone.

“They might not come back,” Sven said as he settled down under a tree, “but we’ll have to be careful on watch.”

“A fire might keep them away.”

“I don’t see much wood here. I don’t know if we should build a fire, anyway. The wind could blow sparks onto the grass.”

She shivered, hoping they would be safe, then sat down by another tree that would shield her from the wind. Sven tore open a package and handed her half a sandwich.

“I didn’t think it would be so empty,” he said. “I thought we might see a roadway, or part of an old craft or a building, or even a small tool somewhere, but there’s nothing. It’s as if our people never existed, as if the mind just dreamed them up.”

The moonlight silvered the dark river water. The river had widened considerably; Nita could hardly see the eastern shore. To the south, it was wider still. Below her, an animal’s skull sat in the mud along the bank. She thought then of all the bones that were resting under the earth.

Sven was shaking her shoulder gently. Nita opened her eyes and blinked at the light. “You’d better wake up,” he said. “I want to get some more water before we go, and it might be marshier along the bank up ahead. I’ll take the gardener with me—one of its bottles needs to be refilled.”

She sat up. “Mine’s still almost full.”

“I’ll just take mine, then.” He removed his bottle from his pack and led the robot down the hill.

The river was several paces away; Sven walked to the south, toward a spot where the reeds along the shore were not as thick. Nita got to her feet and studied the river. The waterway was growing wider the farther south they traveled, and the map had not shown such an increase in size.

She gazed after Sven until he was a small, distant shape kneeling by the bank. The sun was just above the horizon; the sky was clear, promising a pleasant day. She turned to the west and saw a herd of large, shaggy beasts grazing in the grass; she was far enough away not to have to worry about them.

She knelt and opened her pack. Her food might last her another three days at most; perhaps she should conserve it. After that, they would have to eat what the robot was carrying, and they would need almost all of that food to get back to the Institute. She closed her pack and stared at the southern horizon, hoping for some sign of the city to appear.

Thunder sounded in the distance; the herd was on the move. Nita narrowed her eyes and tried to recall what animals of that kind were called; they were much larger and shaggier than the cattle. Bison, she thought; Earth’s people had once hunted them. The herd changed direction; they were running much faster now, as if something was pursuing them. They swerved again; she suddenly realized that they were heading toward the river.

“Sven!” she shouted. He stood up; she saw him glance to the west. He began to run toward her, still holding his bottle.

She looked around wildly, then aimed her wand at the bison, hoping she could frighten them off. The weapon did not fire; she had used up her charge. The herd was coming closer. They could never outrun the bison; they would have to take to the trees.

The gardener sat by the river. Sven must have ordered it to stay there before. Nita clenched her teeth, suddenly angry with the mind for its dogged obedience. Sven stopped for a moment and called out to the robot; it rose and floated after him.

The thunder of approaching hooves was much louder now. She remembered the packs, picked them up, and managed to wedge them between the tree trunk and a branch above her. Sven was closer to the hill; she was about to climb up when she saw him fall.

“Sven!” she cried out. He staggered to his feet; his right leg gave way. He dropped the bottle and fell again.

She raced down the hill. He was standing when she reached him; he hobbled toward her, as if injured. She threw one arm around him. “Lean on me.”

“I—”

“Come on!” She dragged him with her, propelling him toward the tree as fast as she could. He was moaning as they climbed the hill. She let go of him as he pulled himself up into the tree; she grabbed his hand and climbed up after him as the bison came toward the slope.

The herd thundered to the hill. The ground shook; clouds of dirt billowed around the beasts. Their hooves beat against the ground as they ran on toward the river. The robot was in their way; Nita watched helplessly as it was trampled underfoot. The bison continued to run along the bank until they were a small dark cloud in the south.

She was shaking. Sven seemed stunned; his blue eyes were empty. The robot was lying on the ground below the hill, its body dented, its packs torn and crushed.

Nita climbed out of the tree. Sven threw their packs down, then hung from the limb and dropped the short distance to the ground. He let out a cry as he landed, and sat down abruptly. “My leg,” he muttered. “I twisted it before—that’s why I fell. I—”

She knelt next to him. “Where?”

“My ankle.”

“Is it broken?”

“I don’t think so.” He touched his right boot. “But I can’t tell. It might be only a sprain. I felt the muscles pull and snap. All I know is that it hurts.”

“I should look at it,” she said.

He shook his head. “Don’t you remember what the screens said about this kind of injury? If I take off my boot, it might swell. I won’t be able to get the boot back on. I won’t be able to walk.”

She stood up and thought of the robot. “I’ve got to talk to the mind,” she said. “It can send another robot out. We can last until it gets here, can’t we?”

She ran down the hill toward the gardener. The machine was still; its viewplate was badly dented, while the lights under the plate had gone out. Its limbs seemed twisted, and part of its dome was crushed.

“Can you hear me?” she said. “Move your arms if you hear me.” The gardener did not move. Its sensors were probably damaged; its dead lights told her that it was inactive and perhaps damaged beyond repair. They had lost the robot. The mind could no longer hear their commands. It would go on protecting the Institute, as it had been programmed to do, but it had no directives that could help her and Sven.

She dropped to the ground, overcome by the hopelessness of their situation.

“Nita?” Sven was hobbling toward her, dragging their packs as he nursed his injured leg.

“The gardener’s gone,” she said. “Its lights are out. We probably couldn’t repair it even if we had the tools and knew how. It wasn’t built to survive anything like this.”

“If its lights are out,” he said, “its sensors must be dead. We can’t hope for any help from the mind.”

She covered her eyes, wanting to weep, but no tears came. “What are we going to do?”

“We’d better see what we can salvage here.”

“Sit down and rest your leg,” she said. “I’ll look.” She crawled along the ground, examining every item before she put it into a pack. Two of the bottles the robot had carried were dented but still usable; most of the food had been crushed and stamped into the grassy ground. The four weapons the robot had carried were unmarked; she tried one of the wands and saw a beam shoot out. The weapons, at least, were unharmed.

She helped Sven to his feet, then picked up their packs. He leaned against her as they walked back to the hill. She eased him to the ground, then slid a pack under his right foot.

“You know what this means,” he said as she sat down. “We have to get to the city now. Our only chance is to find people there. And if we don’t—” His voice broke.

If they found no one, they would have to retrace their route without enough food and without the gardener to help guide them. They could never have made it this far without their supplies; she did not believe that they had much of a chance. Sven was injured, and their food would give out; neither of them knew how to hunt or fish, while any plants that seemed edible might be poisonous.

“How can we get to the city?” she said despairingly.

“We have no choice. We wouldn’t make it to the Institute.”

“You need to rest your leg.”

“I can rest it when we reach the city,” he said. “The sooner we get there, the better off we’ll be. We should go before we lose any more time.”

With a knife Sven had brought from the tower cafeteria, Nita sawed off a thick tree limb for him to use as a walking stick. The knife was too dull for such a task, and her hands ached by the time she was finished.

They tied their packs to their backs; Sven picked up his stick and they left the hill. The bison were gone; the only creatures visible were a flock of waterfowl feeding among the reeds by the river.

Their progress was slow. She had to match her steps to Sven’s slower pace, and they were often forced to stop so that he could rest. He did not speak, as though he was conserving all his strength for the journey. They had some pills for pain in their small medical kits; she tried not to notice how many of them Sven was swallowing.

By late afternoon, the plain had given way to gently rolling land. Nita recollected the map; the city had stood among small hills, so this had to be a sign that they were closer to it. But the map had not shown a waterway that seemed more like a lake now than a river.

Sven stopped to lean on his stick; his face was pale, his jaw tightly clenched. Nita pointed at a nearby slope. “We should stop there,” she said. “It’s higher than the others and we’ll be able to see more of what’s around us.”

“It’s still light enough for us to go farther.”

She shook her head. “We must be closer to the city. Look—the hills are higher up ahead. We may be closer than we realize.” She did not mention the lake that had not appeared on the map. “You’ve got to rest, anyway. I can sleep until nightfall and then keep watch after that.”

“I can do my share.”

“Don’t argue with me now. You’re injured—I’m not.”

She walked on; he hobbled toward the hill behind her. They sat down with their backs to the water; she helped him off with his pack and propped it under his foot. “How does it feel now?” she asked.

His jaw tightened. “Worse.”

“Can you stay awake while I sleep?”

He nodded. She stretched out and covered her head with their cloth, shielding herself from the western sun. She had not expected to be able to do much more than rest a little, but the warmth of the day and the tiredness of her body soon made her drowse. Sleep was an escape; she welcomed its oblivion.

Nita kept watch throughout most of the night. Sven slept just below her on the slope, sheltered from the wind that blew toward them across the lake. Wolves howled in the distance; she could recognize their voices now. She longed for a fire, but was grateful for the moonlight.

We’ll reach the city, she told herself. We’ll find people there, and when they see Sven’s injured, they’ll take care of him until he’s well, and then—

Her dreams went no further than that. She conjured up thoughts of people they might meet, men and women who looked like some of the screen images, who would praise Nita and Sven for their fortitude. She refused to think of other possibilities.

Sven woke just before dawn. They shared a flat cake and some pieces of dried fruit in silence. “How does your ankle feel?” she asked at last.

“It’s a little better,” he replied.

“You’re brave to keep going. I wonder if I could have if I was injured like that.”

“It’s my own fault,” he said angrily. “I should have been looking at the ground, watching where I was running. I should have remembered the gardener sooner. We should have gone back after that first night, when I fell asleep on watch. I showed how useless I was then.”

“No, Sven.” She reached for his hand. “It isn’t true. I wouldn’t be alive now except for you.”

“If we don’t find anybody—” He paused. “These pills I’ve been taking—they make you a little drowsy. If we both took all of them and just walked into the water—well, it would be an easy way out.”

“No!” She drew back in horror. “Say you don’t mean that. You’re braver than that—you’ve proved it.”

“Do you think I was just thinking of myself? You don’t have much of a chance with me the way I am if we don’t find our people, and you wouldn’t be any better off alone. It’d be better to swallow those pills than to wait for something worse to kill us. I can’t stand to think of you suffering.”

“I can’t bear to think of you dying.” She put her arms around him. “Promise me you won’t do anything like that. I won’t let you—I’ll stop you somehow. Whatever happens, I’m not going to take those pills.”