|
Corpses stumbled out reaching for the three Harvesters. Backing
away, the men pulled pistols and began to fire. Body parts scorched and smoke. A
head exploded, the brains already turning green, but the body stumbled on. The
first Harvester was dragged down. He was dropped screaming into the grinder. The
grinder shrieked, the knives jammed on the body armor.
Johnson ran only to fall off the dock. Rats swarmed over him, and
he wailed. The guard backed into the truck firing and cursing. The gun exploded
in his hand, and he screamed. He was dragged down under a pile of crawling bodies
and ripped from the suit and torn to pieces.
The grinder was smoking and shaking. It shuddered and stilled,
then clattered to life. The body armor cracked, and the weeping Harvester
shrieked. His voice stilled, and a piece of armor popped up to land at the
forepaws of the shon:gili.
The shon:gili turned and
trotted away, nosing around and seeking a way out of the abattoir.
The killing provided the demon with a moment of entertainment, but
nothing more. Even Carl was silent, and his emotions held a satisfied, if angry
peace. He caught a glimpse of body heat and a faint radio whisper leaking from
body armor. Their attention focused on empty roads and the sky above the zoo’s
life domes. The guards never had anyone try to escape once they entered the
reclamation center.
He muttered a growl. The stench of cat urine was strong. More, an
ancient memory of mountain lions that hid on heavy branches of massive trees.
Deep in a thousand acre savanna under the African life dome, a
lion roared, startling a small herd of antelope into flight. Mists clinging to
the top of the dome drifted down. A herd of hippopotami stared in the direction
of the reclamation center. As one, they broke and ran, diving under the surface
small river that ran down the center of the savanna. Great apes roared, pounding
cupped hands on their chests and birds screamed.
A radio hissed, the mutter clear enough in the cold air.
“What the frik is the disturbance in the African Dome?”
Not ten feet from the shon:gili,
a guard said, “Donno. Was a lot of racket going on in the rec center.”
Startled, the shon:gili
crouched with Carl silent and staring, but the guard walked by with the rifle
still on one shoulder.
Eyes wide and warning, he watched the man pause at the door of the
reclamation center. The guard choked. The rifle swung off the shoulder. He was
grabbed and dragged down screaming as the teeth of corpses ripped away his
flesh.
The demon was not yet finished with his toys.
Trotting away, the shon:gili
heard the radio squawk, then die.
An aircar drifted overhead.
The shon:gili ignored
it, but he trotted a little faster. He was starved, his weight loss from change
making him lean to the point of being emaciated, but the demon wanted live prey.
A man. If the shon:gili could manage
it, a child or pregnant woman because children are sacred to the Eagle Woman,
and a pregnant woman next to Her.
He came to a tall, wrought iron fence that had a concrete
skirting. Wolves lived here, a herd of white tail deer to help feed them. He
sniffed the skirting, urinated on it, and continued. On the other side a second
fence rose up. In the distance was the whining hum of a vehicle.
Glancing at the fences, the shon:gili
slowed. A trap?
Golden eyes stared at him from the wolves’ pen. The shon:gili
snarled. The wolves grinned.
Death, they whispered. Come
to us, beast, and die.
His back to them, he squatted and defecated.
The aircar roared down on him. Jaws gaping, the shon:gili
crouched and stared at the bright lights. A second car came up, and there was a
pop. A dart struck the shon:gili in
the neck. Two more hit him.
He roared and leaped only to sprawl on the gravel of the road. His
mind was growing numb. Staggering up, he collapsed.
Booted feet raced up to him.
"A bear. Asian, I guess. Who the hell is in charge of the
Asian Dome?”
Wolves whispered and laughed in their language.
The shon:gili was
dragged into the back of a truck, and it shot away, rolling around the curves of
the road to squeal to a halt near a squat building with a red tile roof.
The shon:gili was lifted
onto the gurney. In the building, he saw white walls and shuffling men. The
gurney was directed to a cage, and he was pulled off to lay on a bed of straw.
“What’s this?”
A man squatted near the cage.
“The bear you lost.”
The man glanced up. “Like hell.” Eyes narrowed, he pulled a
palm unit from a pocket and checked. “All accounted for.” The fur on the shon:gili’s
neck was pulled and prodded. “No collar. Must be some creep’s pet from Safe
Side.”
Rising, he stepped away, saying, “Get it out of here.”
“What? Where?”
“What do I care?” the man shrugged. “It isn’t one of mine,
and I will not assume responsibility. Beat it.”
“Schiesse."
“And an ounce. Take it out and dump it or butcher the thing.
Poachers are getting one hundred and fifty creds a kilo on the ‘market.”
Muttering over the shon:gili,
the men dragged him out and threw him in the back of the truck.
“Bear meat is pricey, maybe,” one said. “One-fifty a K?
Wow.” The other grunted and the doors slammed shut.
The truck tolled out of the building into the night. Mists crept
down to trail over the road.
The shon:gili’s muzzle
twitched. He caught the scent of wolves. A gate rolled open, and the truck pulled
through it. It picked up speed running down a low hill, only slowing after
entering a building that reeked of rotting meat and wolf.
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
|
