Close Up the Sky (30 page)

Nessif's face
split into a wide grin and he laughed in Leahy's face. His men followed suit,
laughing and poking each other as though someone had told a hilarious joke.

"Do not toy
with me or take me for a fool, my friend," Nessif said. "Instruct me
with words and I will do the rest."

"I cannot
tell you," Leahy replied. "I must show you. If it is mishandled you
will die."

Nessif regarded
him suspiciously. Leahy could almost see the wheels turning behind the beady
eyes. Then a snarl twisted the Morruk's lips. He drew his hand back and slapped
Leahy across the face. Next he grabbed the front of the L-suit with
sausage-like fingers and shook him viciously. "I will not ask you again. Teach
me how to use this, or I will kill you."

Leahy tasted blood
in his mouth. He spat and glared at Nessif. "Go to hell, you stinking
coward," he said in English.

Nessif did not
have to understand the language to perceive the meaning of the remark. The
Morruk started to hit him again, but hesitated. A slow smile spread across his
face. He released his grip on the L-suit and shoved Leahy back against the
rock. He nodded, put his face within inches of Leahy’s, and said softly,
"I think very soon you will tell me what I want to know."

He stood and
barked some orders to his men. In response they began scurrying around the area
pulling up pieces of the sparse brush that dotted the ground. Leahy watched as
Nessif directed them to place it in a pile a few yards from where he lay. When
they finished with the brush, two of them set to work digging a pit near the
pile. While they worked, Nessif came over again and squatted in front of him. He
regarded Leahy through half-closed eyes for a moment then said, "Tell me
again the name by which you are called."

"Julius
Caesar," Leahy replied in a surly tone. He could feel his upper lip
swelling from Nessif's blow.

Nessif scratched
his beard and looked thoughtful. "I do not think that is the name you used
before."

Leahy decided to
try a different tact. If there was the slightest possibility that he could
improve his situation, it was worth trying. "A god may have many
names," he said.

"A god!"
Nessif ejaculated. "No, Julius Caesar, or whatever your name is. One thing
I know, you are no god. I admit that when you made the thunder we fled in fear.
But later, when we returned and watched you stumble through the desert, we
realized that you were only a man. Still, you possessed this." He waved
the pistol in front of him. "For that reason I sent Hanik to lead you into
our trap. Besides, gods do not lose fights with mortals.” He reached out and
wiped a drop of blood from Leahy's lip with his finger. “Nor do they
bleed."

One of the men engaged
in the digging called out to Nessif. He got up, walked over to the pit, and
inspected it. After some conversation, two of them detached themselves from the
group and came over to Leahy. They picked him up by the arms, drug him to the
pit, and lowered him in feet first. Dirt was then pushed in around him until
only his head and shoulders were above ground. Two of the Morruks stomped the
dirt around him until it was tightly packed.

Nessif knelt in
front of him and smiled. "Very soon I intend to roast you like a pig. The
pain will begin slowly, but as the skin begins to blister you will beg for
mercy. The flames will scorch your eyes long before you die, so you will go to
your death in darkness. The stench of your burning flesh will fill your
nostrils and your lips will swell and burst. Of the thousand deaths a man can
suffer, fire is the most painful." He paused for a moment to let those
comments have an effect on Leahy's imagination,
then
continued. "But there is no need for you to die in such agony. In time I
will discover the secret to this device on my own, so your death will be
meaningless. Tell me what I ask and I will release you. I will give you food
and water, and you may go your way unharmed."

Leahy knew the
Morruk's embellished description of his impending death was designed to
frighten him into talking, but the truth of his words was undeniable. Death by
fire was the worst possible way to die. But he also knew that revealing how to
use the pistol would not save his life. Either way he was going to die; it was
just a matter of when and how.

"I will give
you some time to consider," Nessif offered when Leahy did not immediately
respond. He looked up at the darkening sky. The sun had gone down while they
were digging the pit, and the first faint stars were beginning to appear above
the eastern horizon. "We will speak again soon." He walked to where
his men sat in a circle and joined them.

Leahy tilted his
head back and let out a breath. Only a short while ago he had been relatively
safe in his own time, secure in his knowledge of the world around him, but now
he was lost in an exotic and hostile land, friendless and alone, physically
drained, facing death at the hands of men whose language he could not even
speak. Right now, on the other side of the world, on a continent men would
someday call America, there was only a forbidding wilderness that stretched
from sea-to-sea. Twenty-seven centuries from now, Columbus would set sail for
that land and put into motion the events that would eventually create the most
powerful nation on earth. But here, now, that world existed only in his
thoughts, ephemeral and ghostly. He knew that if he died this night at the
hands of the Morruks, his bones would have turned to sand three thousand years
before anyone who might cry for him or mourn his passing even existed.

And what of Taylor
and the others? Having assumed he was dead, were they continuing the search for
his brother and the stellarite, or had they turned back and allowed the time
portal to close forever? The thought of their having returned to their own
time,
his
own time, deepened the
feeling of alienation and loneliness creeping into his soul. He allowed himself
to wallow in self-pity for a little while, then, with courage born of utter
helplessness, a cold rage began to rise within him. He strained at the bonds
around his wrists, but they held tight. He could touch the bottom of the
utility belt with his thumbs, but the dirt packed around him would not allow
him to rotate it around his body to reach the pouch containing the knife. After
a few exhausting attempts to move it, he decided to give up and save his
strength.

He looked at the
circle of men sitting a few yards away. They had built a small fire and were
huddled around it, talking, and drinking from a skin they were passing around. Occasionally,
they would laugh as though someone had told a good joke. Leahy spotted Nessif
on the far side of the circle, examining the gun in the firelight. He rotated
it over and over, stroking it, pecking on it with his finger, trying in vain to
figure out the mechanism. One of the men reached out to take it from him and
was shoved away. The others laughed and passed the skin around the circle. He
watched Nessif lift the gun above his head and peer into the bore as though the
secret of its power might lie hidden within the dark hole.

As Leahy watched
him, a plan began to form in his mind. He did not delude himself with thoughts
of escape, but he might at least exact a price for his death. And the thought
of ridding the world of a sadistic maniac like Nessif had enormous appeal. However,
whatever else he might be, he knew Nessif was no fool. If the plan were to be
successful he would have to handle its execution very carefully. He continued
to watch the Morruk while he formulated exactly how it could be done.

At last Nessif
rose from the circle and came over to him. The rest of the men followed. They
clustered behind him, ready to watch and enjoy the torture. The Morruk chief
knelt in front of him and blew out a breath reeking of strong wine.

"Well, my
friend," he said. "What is it to be? Have you decided to live or
die?"

For a few seconds
Leahy did not answer. He kept his head bowed as though giving final
consideration to Nessif's ultimatum. Finally, he looked up and said, "You
will keep your promise and release me?"

Nessif spread his
arms wide and looked incredulous that Leahy could doubt his veracity. "Of
course!" he replied with exuberance. "Killing you would serve no
purpose. I want only the secret of the device. You have my word that I will set
you free and give you food and water sufficient to reach your destination,
wherever that may be."

"Very
well," Leahy replied. "Will you free my hands so that I can show
you?" He had no delusions that Nessif would untie him.

Nessif laughed. "Instruction
will suffice. I will follow your words."

Leahy nodded. He
was careful to show no sign of disappointment.

"Where is the
pistol?"

Nessif's eyebrows
went up. "A
pistol
," he
mused. "So that is what you call it." He took the gun out of his robe
and examined it closely for a few seconds. "Teach me its use!" His
voice was charged with excitement. In only a matter of moments he expected his
power and prestige among the desert tribes to rise tremendously.

"You must
follow my instructions exactly, or you will die," Leahy said in an ominous
voice.

For a few seconds
Nessif gazed at his prisoner with intense scrutiny, then said, "I will
follow your words. Proceed."

"Hold the
pistol where I can see it."

Nessif complied.

"There is a
small lever on the side." Leahy referred to the safety catch. "Move
it upward until you see a red dot." He watched Nessif's fingers find the
safety and flip it off. "Now place your thumb on the protrusion behind the
red dot. No.
......
yes, there." The Morruk
positioned his thumb on the hammer. "Push it backward until it stops. Good.
Now you must be very careful and follow my words exactly." Leahy was
barely breathing, every muscle in his body tense.

The rest of the
men pushed in closer, watching in breathless anticipation. Nessif looked at
them over his shoulder and grinned. The nose dipped below his upper lip again,
but this time Leahy found no humor in it.

"Grasp the
short handle with your right hand," he continued. He watched Nessif's
fingers curl around the butt. "Yes, that is correct. Now turn it so that
you can see into the little hole.
Very good.
Look at
the curved lever inside the metal circle near your thumb." Nessif raised
the gun and found the trigger with his eyes. "Now slip your thumb inside
the metal circle, but do not touch the lever." Carefully Nessif eased his
big thumb into the trigger guard. He was now holding the pistol backward with
his thumb a hair's breadth away from the trigger. "Inside the hole is the
secret to the thunder," Leahy assured him. "Look inside and press
your thumb against the lever. Remember to watch closely, as the secret will
appear only for an instant."

He held his breath
as Nessif looked into the bore. His men crouched close behind him. One of them,
Hanik, crowded closer than the rest. He was looking directly over his chief's
right shoulder, trying to see into the bore. Nessif's thumb touched the
trigger.

For what seemed
like an eternity nothing happened. Leahy saw the Morruk move his head ever so
slightly away from the bore. A deafening explosion split the air as the hammer
fell. A spear of orange flame lit Nessif's face like a flash bulb as the bullet
ripped through the flesh along his cheek and struck Hanik in the mouth. The
Morruk's ratty face exploded in a cloud of blood and pulverized flesh as the
bullet tore through his skull. The shock knocked him backwards, and he fell
directly behind his chief.

Nessif shrieked in
terror and dropped the pistol as he fell back against Hanik's legs. He reached
out for balance and his hand sank into the gelatinous muck that had been
Hanik's face. Pandemonium erupted among the rest of the Morruks, and they fled
screaming into the night. Nessif struggled to his feet and ran after them. Within
a matter of seconds Leahy found himself completely alone. He could see the
pistol lying a few feet away.

With tremendous
effort he twisted his shoulders and tried to lift his knees against the weight
of the dirt. He was able to move his legs slightly, but not enough to loosen
the packed earth. He knew that within minutes the Morruks would recover from
their shock and return, and if he had not affected his escape by then, they
would kill him without hesitation. He twisted again and again, arching his back
against the hard earth, but it held fast. "God, help me! Please help me,"
he pleaded. He fought with all his strength until exhaustion overcame him. He
slumped over and remained still for a while, breathing heavily.

The darkness
deepened. He raised his head and looked around. He could see the outline of
Hanik's body a few feet from him, the unfortunate victim of a bullet meant for
his chief. But Leahy felt no remorse. Justice was blind, and Hanik had
undoubtedly committed enough crimes in his lifetime to deserve the fate he had
accidentally received.

He tried again to
loosen the dirt around him by twisting and rocking his body, but to no avail. Then
the sound of stealthy movements came to him from out of the gloom. After a few
seconds several shapes materialized and stooped over Hanik's body. One of them
knelt and examined it. There was an exclamation of surprise followed by several
sharp intakes of breath. The kneeling figure rose and moved to stand over
Leahy. He did not have to see his face to know it was Nessif. The Morruk chief
stooped, grasped him roughly by the hair, and jerked his head backward. Something
wet dripped onto the front of the L-suit.

Nessif's face,
twisted with fury, came into focus. A three-inch blackened gash ran across his
cheek where the bullet had grazed him. Droplets of blood from the wound dripped
off the bottom of his beard. "I would have enjoyed your death, my
friend," he said between clenched teeth, "but now I will rejoice in
it. Had your plan worked, it would have been my blood instead of Hanik's that
dampens the sand. But there is one thing I am grateful for." He reached
out and picked up the pistol from where it had fallen. This time he held it by
the grip, his finger inside the trigger guard. "You have given me a most
powerful weapon. Even though I do not yet fully understand its operation, I
shall soon master it. Therefore, there is no reason to prolong your life beyond
the time it takes you to bake in my little oven." He laughed as he
released his painful grip on Leahy's hair and moved away.