IN NATURA: a science fiction novel (ARZAT SERIES Book 2) (3 page)

  “Ara?” Alex asked, beginning to feel tears in her eyes.

  “I still cannot reach him, Alex,” the female answered, reading Alex’s mind again.

  Alex knew that she had to get his heart started. “Mot, Ara, can you help me get him to the floor?”

  The two Arzats gently lifted Tom out of the cryogenic bed and lowered him onto the concrete. Alex bent over and began to administer CPR, pumping Tom’s heart and periodically breathing into his lungs. The light of the small fire soon vanished, and she found herself working only with her sense of touch in almost total darkness. She could sense Ara and Mot looking on at her efforts—helpless to offer any further assistance. The Arzats, she realized, had no idea what she was attempting to do.

  Finally, on her fourth or fifth series of compressions and breaths, she felt Tom’s body twitch slightly.

  Alex stopped the compressions and placed her face close to Tom’s, trying to detect any real sign of life. Was he breathing? She thought so, but she was so frightened that she couldn’t be sure. She waited, hoping the Arzats would confirm that Tom was alive without her having to ask, but they remained silent.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Tom coughed a bit. Alex bent close to his face to make sure he was actually alive and breathing, then she sat back and gave him room to recover. She held Tom’s hand for several minutes, rubbing it vigorously until she felt its own natural warmth slowly returning. She was so relieved that she found herself quietly sobbing in the pitch dark.

  “Jesus, Alex,” Tom finally said, his voice not more than a hoarse whisper. “Who turned out the lights?

CHAPTER 3

OUT OF NOWHERE

Za’at awoke to the sound of howling in the distance, surprised and not at all pleased that he had fallen into such a deep slumber. He remained perfectly still, scanning the area with all of his senses. A partial moon had risen and the sky was covered with stars.

  Once again, there was a long, drawn out howl that penetrated the night air. While the sound of the fanged beasts was quite familiar to the Arzats, there was something in the tone of their cry that was chilling. It was enough to raise the scales of even the bravest hunter.

  Za’at fingered his killing stick, reassured by the feel of it, and continued to listen for any sign of imminent danger. With his other hand, he tested the ground for any threatening movement. Wherever the nasty predators were, he concluded that they were not close—yet.

  Finally, when he was satisfied that they were safe, he looked around. In the dim light, he spotted only six of his seven hunters. Each of them were poised and listening intently. The scales on their bodies were translucent blue and green under the pale circle of light that hung in the night sky.

  “Where is Ack?” he immediately asked Baa, who was closest.

  “He went over the hill to check on the
umans
,” Baa carefully answered, sure that it would not please Za’at in the least that Ack had wandered off.

  Za’at sprang to his feet, the scales rising on his neck, and pulled the scabbard that contained his hunting stick over his shoulder. He was irritated with Ack for leaving but even more so with Baa for not waking him.

  Za’at was an atypical Arzat in that he often fell into oblivion when he slept, where most others of his kind slept lightly and would immediately awaken at the slightest provocation. For Za’at, particularly as a hunter, this was a liability rather than a virtue. While sleeping, it caused him to have to rely on others to alert him in case of trouble. There were not many things he would change about himself, but that was one of them. He had meant to only lightly nap.

  “Come,” he said to the remainder of the group. “Leave everything but your weapons. We can return for the rest of our things later.”

  Just as they were about to depart, Za’at and the others could detect Ack returning. His distinctive scent preceded him as he made his way back to the Arzats’ temporary hiding place. Za’at thought about gutting Ack for his insubordination, but he was still too intent on a successful hunt to allow anything to get in the way of it. He resolved once again to deal with his sibling later.

  “Well?” Za’at asked as Ack approached. Despite his anger, he knew Ack had been spying on the
umans
and was curious to know what he had seen.

  “There are only two smooth-skins guarding the fire. The rest are asleep. This will be easy,” Ack replied, carefully maintaining a safe distance from the sharp end of Za’at’s killing stick.

  Yes, easy you idiot
—Za’at said only to himself—
provided nothing goes wrong!
I don’t care what mother says, you are never coming on a hunt with me again little brother. In fact, when I am done with my report to the Elders, you will be lucky to find a purpose greater than cleaning the latrines in the caves.

  Off in the distance, but not as far away as it had been, he heard the frightening call of the four-legged beasts again. The Arzats called them
var—
highly skilled predators in their own right. Za’at was suddenly worried that the wily beasts might have the same idea as the Arzats regarding the
umans
. Perhaps they had sniffed out the smooth-skins as well. Perhaps, they were just as hungry.

  “Let’s go,” he said, suddenly sensing the need to hurry.

* * *

As they crept toward the camp, Za’at instructed each of the Arzats to plan on taking at least two, if not three
umans
each.

  “Creep like serpents and make not a sound,” he said, speaking to the seven of them only with the power of his mind. “I will give you the signal—then do not stop,” he warned them, “until
all
are completely eliminated.
U’aa
is showing her full face tonight, so we will have to be especially careful.”

  Za’at, unlike his brother Ack, knew that it was quite possible for an
uman
, if they were lucky, to kill one of them if something went wrong in the attack. Aside from the completely acceptable reason of killing an Arzat for any sign of insubordination, Za’at was fully responsible for their safety in all other respects. Allowing even one of his hunters to be wounded as a result of his own bad decision might cast him as a poor leader. This thought weighed heavily upon him, especially given the unpredictability of the
umans
and the incompetence of his younger brother. Were he to make a mistake, he would inevitably have to answer to the Elders. The penalty for such a mistake—such an
atrocity
as the Arzats liked to refer to almost any violation of any sort—could be banishment or death.

  Za’at pushed that unpleasant prospect aside as he and the other hunters neared the
uman
camp and the
uman’s
delicious smell wafted through his nostrils. As they crested the hill, Za’at was pleased to see the glow of the smooth-skin’s fire.

  The
umans
were intelligent—of that he had no doubt. Unlike the other animals they hunted, these strange creatures possessed not only weapons and their own language but also the ability to make fire from nothing—a skill the Arzats had yet to master. While the Arzats used fire for many things, they themselves were forced to wait until the Great Creator hurled it from the sky and some brave hunter was able to retrieve some part of it from the resulting inferno. Once acquired, it was maintained and closely guarded as a treasure.

  In the Arzat caves, the communal fire was sacred, always carefully tended and never purposely extinguished. Those that were in charge of keeping it knew their lives would be immediately forfeit were they ever to allow the flames to go out.

  It had long been the secret desire of many Arzats to discover how to actually create fire from nothing as the
umans
apparently could, though the Arzat Priests continued to insist that this ability was just an empty rumor—that it came as a gift and only when the Great Creator chose to give it. “Perhaps they carried embers with them,” the Priests had often suggested, trying to explain how the
umans,
even in small numbers, always seemed to maintain a fire.

  Now Za’at knew that explanation wasn’t true. As the Arzats had followed the
umans
during the day Za’at had carefully sniffed for any signs that they were carrying fire with them. He was certain that they had not.
That
, he thought to himself as he gazed at the flickering light emanating from the
umans’
camp,
is no rumor.

  While the Arzats were by no means opposed to a meal of raw meat if necessary, they much preferred it well roasted. So the
umans’
campfire meant that tonight’s meal would be cooked—an obvious rarity on hunts.

  Za’at unconsciously flicked his tongue and could practically taste the charred smooth-skin flesh
.
He began to uncontrollably salivate again.
Yes,
he thought, excited about his own revelation,
the umans can most definitely create fire from nothing. I should have paid more attention when they set up their camp.

  He kept his eyes locked on the two guards to see if they moved or made any indication that they were aware of the Arzats’ presence. One of them seemed to doze while the other seemed quite alert.

  Za’at flicked his tongue again and tested the exact direction of the breeze. He suddenly realized that it had shifted. The hunters were now approaching from up wind of the
umans’
camp.
It is fortunate
, he thought, realizing his mistake in judgment,
that the umans had such an obvious poor sense of smell.
Any other Arzat prey would probably have sniffed the hunters and stampeded by now. He paused low in the grass and carefully watched the sentries nonetheless, still amazed that they
hadn’t caught the Arzats’ scent.

  “Baa,” he said silently when he was fully convinced they had not been detected, “you will take the closest guard. Ack, you will take the farthest one. But
wait
for my command.”

  Za’at could sense that Ack was about to comment but then thought better of it. He tried to read Ack’s thoughts, but they were blocked.
Good,
he thought.
Perhaps, my brother, you are finally learning some discipline. Now, we shall find out if you have any skills whatsoever as a hunter.

  Za’at had purposely given Ack the most difficult assignment as a test—a side of him almost hoping Ack would fail. He realized he was taking a huge chance but suddenly found himself unable to resist the temptation.
We will succeed regardless
, he reasoned, totally certain that the rest of the group could make up for any of Ack’s deficiencies.

  The Arzats continued creeping slowly on all fours through the grass, following Za’at’s lead. When they were less than one stick away from the closest sleeping
uman,
Za’at gave the signal. Without a sound, the Arzats rose simultaneously from the dark, pulled their hunting sticks from their scabbards in unison, and silently rushed the camp.

  Baa and Ack moved so swiftly toward the
uman
guards that even Za’at had trouble following their movements. The guards each received two quick strokes through their backs and into their hearts—but the
uman
who had been assigned to Ack managed to make some noise as it died. The rest of smooth-skins immediately awoke and began calling out in their incomprehensible, high-pitched chatter, attempting to rise even as the Arzat hunters mercilessly struck them back down.

  Za’at moved systematically through the camp, stabbing at the
umans
as they tried to gain their feet, furious with Ack for failing to silence the second guard and determined to correct his mistake. As he approached one of the young male offspring who was perhaps only four or five seasons old, he could see the unusual whites of its eyes in the firelight and could smell the sweet aroma of its urine as he stabbed directly at its heart. The child weakly clutched the bloody end of Za’at’s killing stick for a moment, then released it and rolled to its side, apparently lifeless. Za’at kicked the youngster viciously for good measure and immediately moved on to his next victim.

  When it was over, the Arzats carefully checked each of their kills to be sure the life was completely out of them, then gathered together and collectively howled into the dark sky.

  Take that, you nasty var,
Za’at thought triumphantly, as he called out to the stars.
The Great Creator has been good to me this night.

* * *

Za’at assigned Ack to the more menial task of tending to the fire as the other hunters began to carefully gut and clean the smooth-skins’ entrails. He began to take inventory and was delighted. There would be lots of meat heading back to the caves and in a moment, dinner! Eight and five of the smooth-skins would last the clan several
het
.
Not the most productive foray,
he thought, as he walked back through the camp and sized up the kill,
but enough to head home and prepare for another hunt.

  He began to conjure the image of his party triumphantly returning to the caves loaded with the meat of their very unusual prey, hoping again that they would arrive before any of the other hunting parties, excited about the public humiliation Ack would suffer for failing to silence the
uman
guard, and thankful that his sibling’s mistake had not become his.

  I’m afraid your hunting days are over little brother,
Za’at thought, as he continued survey the camp and recount the kills. Suddenly, he felt the scales on his neck rise.
Eight and five? Eight and five! Had I not counted eight and six umans earlier?

  Za’at looked up and could see Ack approaching with a load of wood under one arm, his hunting stick held loosely in the other. Then, he heard a cry so high pitched and brutal that it caused him to shiver. He saw Ack’s eyes open wide as the tip of a spear ripped through his chest. Ack paused for a moment, staggered a few steps around the camp as if completely confused, and finally stumbled face first into the fire, the long end of a smooth-skin weapon protruding from his back. Behind him, just as wide-eyed, a female
uman
stood, swollen with child, screaming into the night.