Under the Canopy (3 page)

Reentering the woods, I unslung my rifle and released the safety. I pressed forward, pushing branches out of the way with one hand and aiming with the other. It felt like I was back in basic training. The only thing missing was the drill sergeant yelling in my face; instead, I heard only the drum of water on leaves, and the wind howling among the trees.

The ground was soft and made slurping noises every time I lifted my feet, but it was solid enough to walk without falling knee-deep in the mud. I tried not to think about the surface I was stepping on. My goggles fogged up, and I took them off to wipe. The moment I did, the wind hit my eyes and tears streamed down my cheeks. I had to turn around and hastily put them back on.

Movement on the right. Water falling from a bush.

I jerked the rifle up, seeking a target. Nothing. Maybe it was only my imagination. Just too much water on the leaves. Not a predator. Not at all.

I continued walking. On the outside, I was showered in cold water, rapidly dried by the icy wind. Under the jacket, I was sweating, T-shirt clinging to my chest. I felt a steady stream of sweat running down my spine. Hello, pneumonia!

Drop it, I thought. Remember who you are and where you are. You're Wealder; the forest is your friend. Play by its — HIS — rules and don't stop. One leg in front of the other. Left, right, left. My body; a dynamo; a perpetual motion machine. I can walk the whole planet if that's what it takes. Clear your head, let the muscles do all the work.

I don't know how for how long I kept up like that. The trance was broken when my boot hit an exposed root. I jerked and shuddered, as if waking from a nap, and looked at the communicator. The cabin was close; a little over half-a-mile before me. My mouth was dry, I licked the raindrops off my lips. One dash, and I would be there.

I tried to move forward, but the root pulled me back. I looked down to see the tip of my boot was stuck. I tried to free it, but the tree wouldn't let go. From behind, I heard a rustling. I turned and aimed. Nothingness greeted me once again. I puffed and went back to working my boot free and heard it again. Closer now. I screamed and fired into the air. Nothing jumped out of the grass and ran away. I was surrounded by a bubble of silence.

Over there, in the grass! Something moved! Some creature all black and eyeless… The tree next to me creaked. I felt the soft fingers of madness touch my mind. I sucked air through my teeth and started butting that fucking root with my rifle. Splinters flew everywhere. I pulled… and finally, the boot was free. Except for the sole near the tip — that was torn off. It hung from the exposed foot, mocking me with its grin.

When I saw that "wound," I felt an adrenaline rush and plunged ahead. I ran uphill and down dale, through bushes and moats like a tank on a warpath. The world around me stretched into one blurry streak.

Suddenly, I fell down with a wet whack and rolled into some ditch. I moaned, struggling to get up in the mud and heard a growling sound that was joined by another. I hastily wiped the mud off the goggles and looked ahead, lifting the now heavy rifle with one arm.

I was in a tikili den. The animals surrounded me, their brown fur wet and dark, eyes glowing. They were everywhere. Hungry and scared by the intruder.

That was the last straw for me. I had had enough that day — the march, the scare, the rain. I remembered the dead beltysh, being eaten by one of the beasts now before me. Yellow blood gushing upward and falling in beads. And another thought occurred to me, a more pragmatic one, — there shouldn't be a wolf den near my house.

So I started shooting. The reports boomed over the drumming of the raindrops, the automatic bolt clicked, sliding back and forth, and the beasts… They howled, and growled, and died, unable to escape fast enough from the most formidable predator of all.

I stopped when all of them were dead. I got up, squeezing the rifle in my hands, so it wouldn't slip out, and walked forward. I got out of the den without looking at my work. It didn't matter at that moment.

I climbed out and, puffing, leaned against a trunk. Out of breath, I wheezed and looked behind. Only emptiness, nothing more. The forest stared back at me with wet, indifferent eyes. I couldn't hold its gaze and averted mine. I gripped the bark with my fingers and began to pull myself around the tree. On the other side, I peered forward and my soul sang. I saw the roof lights of my cabin.

Hobbling and smiling crookedly, I walked on. The sole of my boot was barely hanging on by the heel, but it didn't matter. Soon the trial would be over.

Rustling behind me. Without missing a step, I turned, fired a shot, and continued on. The cold had gotten under my skin, and I couldn't feel my arms and legs, but the machine rolled forward.

At last, my fingers touched the metal of the pilings. I could have kissed it. Edlon said there was a panel here somewhere; I leaned my rifle against the structure, took off the goggles and started fumbling around for it. The piling was covered in moss higher than me. I saw no panel.

I punched the wall in frustration and felt the pain all the way to my shoulder. A moan of desperation escaped my lips. My hands moved frantically over the surface, rain soaking through to my palms. I worked my way to the edge of the piling, then turned the corner and continued searching. I tore at the moss with my fingers, flinging it to the side, only to reveal more black metal.

A light came on. I rushed over to it and removed the moss. A blinking panel. I pulled off my glove and pressed my bare hand against the panel for it to scan. The panel blinked, and the light shifted from white to blue. There was a creak overhead. Looking up, I saw a rectangle separate from the cabin. I watched it come down, grinning like a kid. The rifle! Pulling my glove back on, I turned the corner and felt ice in the pit of my stomach.

The rifle was gone.

I stumbled back, my shoulder hit the metal. This can't be happening. There is nobody out here but me… is there? I looked around, searching for the thief, afraid of what I might find. Nervous, I returned to the panel. The platform was now level with my head. The moment it touched the ground, I jumped on and pushed the "U" button. The platform shuddered and started its ascent.

I stood there, my back to the piling, and stared out at the forest. I clearly remember the thought that crossed my mind in that moment, Today you showed me your gloomy face, old friend. I won't ever forget it.

I pulled the hood down, and warm air from the cabin breathed onto the back of my head. I'd made it. Before the earth disappeared from view, I saw movement in the grass. I broke out in a cold sweat, and the view was replaced by the inner wall of the cabin. Slowly turning around, I stepped off the platform.

I looked around the garage. It looked as if nothing had happened. Except now there was only one scooter. Well, one was better than none.

I pulled off the goggles, sat on the edge of the platform, all spent from the march, and watched the puddle of dirty water spreading on the floor before me.

After my refreshing walk in the woods, I began taking my job more seriously. No more camping trips or anything else of the sort. And I only did my fly-overs after a thorough check of the weather reports. I didn't want to lose the second scooter — no, sir.

I spent most of my time in the nest. On an average day, I would wake up in the morning, go upstairs and open the panels. The fresh forest air would set my skin tingling. I'd turn on the display and watch the feeds from the forest cams. Say what you like, but sometimes nature is best perceived through a lens. A few weeks passed like this.

I downloaded movies and ebooks for entertainment. The army paid for everything, God bless the brass. Eventually, I returned to the crash site and found the mired scooter. Only the rim of the rear nozzle was visible. I considered pulling it out with a winch, but quickly dismissed the thought. The engine must be full of mud and totally useless by that point. The scooter became the monument to my carelessness.

From time to time Edlon would call to chat about silly things. It always happened the same way.

I would sit in my chair, watching the cams or some statistics, and the income box would chirp. I would open it, and Edlon's face would explode into a small window.

'Howdy, roomie!' he would say. 'How is it going in your hole?'

'Not bad,' I would say. 'You?'

'Nothing to complain about, the usual shit.' After these formalities he would drop back into his chair and start one of his tirades. 'You know what bugs me? The state of modern stripper art. I remember when I was a kid, my Dad took me to a show, and they would welcome you, pour you a glass and give a full show. You know, the real one. The dancers weren't shy to show you everything, they would do things that would make your dick fall off and that's with just right movements and angles. Dad and I would applaud, throw money at them and cheer the girls on. They…'

He could go on like this for a long time. It was probably all a lie or at least half-truth. He was talking of the times when he and I were around ten, and I couldn't see a kid cheering on strippers, even if that brat was Edlon.

He was one of those people who would ask you about something and then tell you about it. I was only there to nod. He talked about modern cinema (which was utterly unoriginal), video games (which were easy and dumb), politicians (who were mentally challenged) and many other things. He had an opinion on every subject. The fact that he didn't have an expertise in any of them didn't stop him, oh no, Edlon wouldn't surrender to such a meager obstacle. One thing seemed strange to me — with all his chatterboxing, he never spoke about really personal stuff. Zilch. I didn't ask, though.

You might think his calls were a burden on me, but, to be honest, it was nice to hear a human voice from time to time — even if that voice was telling a smutty joke. Edlon didn't care either way; he could have been talking to a tree. Though he appeared cheerful when he called, there was this underlying sadness about him. He would finish a sentence and just stop. His gaze would grow distant and the face would relax, dropping the smirk as a mask. And then he would return to his usual condition. I wrote it off as an aftereffect of living in the woods.

The disappearance of my rifle continued to gnaw at me. Who had taken it? Just any beast couldn't have done that, and had no reason to besides. I suspected the natives, obviously, but I didn't understand why one would steal a rifle without knowing what to do with it. And it didn't jive with the whole "thundergod" thing. Weren't they supposed to look at us with awe? Checking the perimeter cameras didn't help — the only ones were installed over the landing platform and at the side opposite it. The rifle was taken in the blind spot. Whatever the case, work soon distracted me from my idle thoughts, and the vanishing rifle — and the whole ordeal for that matter — faded to the back of my mind like a bad dream.

One morning, I was up on the roof sweeping away the leaves and branches the previous day's wind had scattered all over the launch platform.

The storm had passed, with rain and howling wind again, and left a mess. However, there was a bright side to it, as always. There is nothing better than to come out after a good blast, feel the stillness in nature, breathe the ozoned air. For those reasons, I couldn't resist and decided to spend some time up there. Coming out, I saw that the roof was littered. I didn't expect any company, but took up the broom nevertheless. I enjoyed simple chores like this — it helped to cool off the head. Plastic hairs of my broom rustled over the concrete, and this sound gave me a warm feeling of simpler times before the whole space expansion thing started. I gathered the litter into piles, pulled them to the edge and threw them over. Leaning over the side, I watched them fall down. So graceful.

My communicator chirped. It was Edlon. Something told me that he wasn't bringing me good news. I raised my hand to the mouth and said, 'Good morning, Edlon. What's going on?'

'Roomie, I've got myself a problem.' His voice sounded muffled. 'Come to the screen, we should talk this face to face.'

My eyebrows twitched. Fishy, as expected. 'Coming,' I said and sighed. The leaves could wait. I leaned the broom against the wall of the shed and went down to the computer. Opening the call link, I saw Edlon's uncharacteristically focused face filling the screen.

I crossed my arms and leaned back. 'So, what's the deal?' I said, trying to sound indifferent.

For some reason, Edlon was whispering. 'I need your help, buddy. I would have called ahead, but it all just kind of spun out of control, so here I am.' His eyes darted back and forth like scared animals in a cage.

Judging by the manner of our conversation, I made a supposition. 'Are you alone?'

Edlon glanced to the side, then back at me. 'Nuh-uh. The generals arrived yesterday. They like to come here sometimes to shoot, drink, you know. General stuff.'

'Generals,' I said. Damn. Nothing good ever comes from the higher ups. They are like a force of nature — inexplicable, apathetic and vicious. I'd rather walk again through the woods than meet a general face to face. I felt pity for Edlon.

The poor man nodded. 'Yeah, and as soon as they wake up, they want to go hunting. Which is why I need you to scare up some game and send it their way. Will you do it?'

'Yeah, sure.' I kept my face impassive.

Edlon was delighted, the usual cheeriness returned to his face. 'Thanks, roomie!' he said too loudly, then immediately clapped his mouth shut and pushed his head into the shoulders. He returned to whisper, 'I'm sending you the coordinates. I'll drop you a line when we're on site.' He punched some buttons, and my wrist communicator chirped again. With that, he went offline.

I turned off the comm after receiving the data. Oh, how I hated these autocrats. They wanted to shoot something, but when was the last time they had a rifle in their hands? They treated everything like they were entitled to it, like it was their property. Maybe, it was. Whatever. The brass was the brass and I was still just a serviceman; still a subordinate. I slapped my knees and went to change into something more appropriate.

Leaving the garage, I set off for the coordinates Edlon had given me, somewhere in his sector. I felt bad about leaving mine untended, and just when I was starting to find my rhythm. I hoped this wouldn't last long. However, the weather was good, so I didn't mind much.

Upon reaching the coordinates, I found myself in a small clearing. It was adjacent on one side to a massive pile of debris; probably, knocked down by yesterday's winds. A bigger tree fell down and buried smaller ones under it, creating a wall of bristling branches and towering wooden walls. This would make a nice coral. I could herd something into it while the generals would wait for the game with rifles ready. Whether Edlon knew about it or not, he had chosen the perfect spot. I turned my scooter and headed in the other direction, keeping my eye out for animals as I went.

Obviously, beltyshes were out of the question. We were there to protect them — and besides, they were too small. The generals weren't the best shots and most likely old, so I needed something big enough that they wouldn't miss. Sadly, nothing was around to fill that role. Maybe, the wildlife hid when they sensed my presence? As if it was aware of my intentions. I flew up to a tree and hit it with the butt of my rifle in hope of scaring at least something out of its hiding. The wooden thud echoed through the forest. Some fat birds leapt out of the grass and flew away, whistling and clicking. A couple of runt deers dashed out and beamed their white tails at me as they hopped over the tall grass.

All too small.

I punched the steering column and there was a muffled honk. It ran amok, bouncing off the trees and making distance between us until it died. I froze, gritting my teeth. The generals weren't supposed to know I was there!
In the newborn silence I heard a distant bellow. Something was answering my honk. By the sound of it, something large, and probably not a predator. Left with no other choice, I headed to the source.

I brought the scooter higher and inched forward, barely leaning on the handles. I scanned the forest below, searching for the bellowing beast. Soon enough, I found it. And it wasn't alone.

In a dense pocket of shade, a herd of animals stood gathered on the soft moss. At a glance, I counted seven of them. The name was
decoh
: two arms, two legs, a massive head with dangling locks of hair. They reminded me of buffaloes. Or kangaroos. Maybe something in between. From up in the air it was hard to gauge their height, but I estimated probably a head taller than a human. Some of them were prowling on the ground, raking the moss with their paws. They picked beetles from the upturned layers and licked them off. Others tore the bark off tree trunks with their claws and ate the pale wood beneath. They were peaceful and completely oblivious of my presence.

Looks like I've found my game, I thought
.
Though I'd preferred to leave them be as they were, I had no choice but to lead them to the slaughter. I assuaged myself that the generals would probably shoot just one or two, and others would get away with nothing more serious than a startle.

I made a U-turn and moved to the rear of the group, aiming my scooter at the point where wild nature would meet military high command. All that remained was the signal from Edlon.

I sat on the scooter, propping my cheek up with my hand. Twenty minutes passed. Nothing happened.
I was tempted to call Edlon, but didn't. Chances were they were approaching the hunting ground at that very moment. I heard mewling from below and didn't like it. I looked down and saw that the decohs were leaving. They were moving away from me, setting for the deep woods.

'Come o-on!' I said to Edlon who clearly couldn't hear me. I stared hard at the wrist communicator, hypnotizing it, willing it to… It winked at me. I hastily hit the button and sent a return signal. Finally! Meanwhile, the herd had already lined up into a caravan behind the leader of the group. I banked to one side and dropped, passing right over them, flying to the head of the column. I was so close that I could smell their fur. At the front of the line, I spun the scooter around and flashed the headlights in their faces. To enhance the effect, I twisted the handlebars and the engine roared. The buck bellowed at me and stood up on his hind legs. I also rose and revved up the engine more. The decoh waved his clawed hands in front of me, trying to scare the flying roarer away, and nearly fell over. He gave out a mewing sound, clearly scared of me. The leader's fear passed to the rest of the herd, and they started to back away and turn for the rendezvous.

They ran away from me. I followed close behind, the fastest and most dangerous predator. Machine sounds buzzed and stalled in the roar of the stampede. Then they started veering to the side. Not there! I lurched right across the leader's path. My scooter cut through the bushes, and the beast's massive body reared up in front of me. I swerved around him, narrowly avoiding impact. The animal fell to the ground, got up and rushed the other way. The herd was back on track.

Suddenly a silver blur dashed through the air, and another player entered the scene. A
taj
, a massive beast that looked like a lion with two long fingers on the front paws and two tusks protruding upward from the lower jaw, stood before the leader of the herd. The decoh started bellowing, he must have gone out of his mind by that point. The animal swayed his clawed hand at the predator.

I didn't know what to do. The taj was probably the cause of them changing course. I couldn't shoot the predator without giving away my presence. The beast could kill me, the buck and anyone else at that moment. He was the king of the forest.

The herd mewed and bustled behind the buck who tried to fight the new attacker. The taj evaded his every lash and seemed to enjoy it, like a game. The buck bellowed again and stomped his hands on the ground, raining his weight down. It was an attempt to scare the taj. The predator didn't fall for it. Instead, he pounced on the buck and wrapped its fingers around the leader's head. The poor animal twitched and swayed his head, trying to shake the death dealer off. All in vain. The taj tensed, his claws penetrated the skin and the blood splashed out.

I used that moment to take away the herd. The generals were waiting. I jumped over the dying leader and honked again, ordering the animals to go forward.

It was the only thing they needed. The moment my horn sounded, they went into a frenzy and ran away. I turned to look at the buck. The taj's lower fangs were burrowed into the decoh's neck, and he was licking the blood. The leader didn't even struggle by that point. I turned away from the feast and followed the herd.