Interstellar Pig (6 page)

"The ignorant little thing should have known better," Joe snarled. He pulled the crab from his foot. With surprising brutality, he crushed the shell in his large hand, then hurled the still wriggling mess into the water. He ripped the pack from his back and pulled out a box of bandages. "Slow me down, all right," he muttered to himself. "Good thing they're so far behind."

I looked back over the water. Zena and Manny, who kept tipping over, seemed only about halfway to the island. It occurred to me that this was my chance to start trying to find the boulder before they did.

"You need any help?" I asked Joe timidly.

"I can take care of myself, thanks."

"Listen, uh, I have to go back into the woods," I said.

"Huh? What for?" he said, concentrating on the gash on his foot, which was still bleeding.

"Call of nature," I said, backing away.

"Don't go too far," he said. "If you're not back soon, we'll eat all the food up. You know how greedy Zena is."

"I'm not hungry," I said, still retreating.

"Avoid the southern part of the island," he warned, squinting up at me. "I hear there's quick-; sand there, and a treacherous undertow."

"Okay," I said, and turned and hurried away. I looked back once and he was staring after me. Was he suspicious? He certainly didn't want me to get anywhere near the southern tip of the island, where the boulder was. It was to the left, I knew that much, but naturally I didn't want him to see me go that way. I just headed directly up the hillside, into the trees. My hope was that if I got high enough, I might be able to get a view of the whole island, and that way find the exact location of the boulder I had seen from my window.

I followed a steep sandy path that gradually became covered with pine needles as the trees thickened around me. The beach was out of sight now, and I began to wonder whether Zena and Manny had arrived and how soon they would start looking. There were three of them, after all; they could split up and cover the island three times as fast as I could. I didn't have much time. I began to run. The path leveled off, which seemed to indicate that I had reached the top of the hill. But I couldn't see anything because of the trees. The island was turning out to be much larger than I had expected. I began to get frantic.

Should I leave the path? What would happen if I got lost? Would they leave without me? Was there really any quicksand? When were the trees going to end?

The path wound off to the right, but the trees seemed thinner to the left. But was the southern tip of the island still to my left? My sense of direction had never been very good. If I went the wrong way and ended up blundering around on the northern side of the island, I'd never find the place before they did.

But I couldn't just keep on thrashing around in the trees, getting nowhere. I had to make a decision. I stopped, cursing. I hated decisions. What was the matter with me, anyway? Not only was I making a pest of myself, I was probably destroying my skin. And for what? I didn't even know what I was trying to find.

I stopped thinking and plunged off to the left. There was underbrush here that scratched my bare feet. I was sweating and the visor kept slipping down over my forehead. I now had no idea in which direction I was going or even where the path had been. And I was too stupid and confused to think of getting my direction from the sun.

But I was lucky. The woods began to thin out. Now there was sand beneath my feet instead of needles. And suddenly I emerged from the trees and found myself at the top of a steep dune, staring directly down at a long pointed strip of beach. Finally it looked familiar. This was the southern tip of the island that I saw from my window. To my right were low bushes and more hills of sand slopping gradually down to the water.

I spun around to the left and there it was, a huge granite boulder poking up out of the trees. It was only a few dozen yards away and easily recognizable.

In minutes I was standing at the base of it, at the exact focus of the marks around the window. I couldn't see the house, but somehow 1 could feel a presence, as though I had been swept back a hundred years and the demented prisoner was staring out at me from the little room. . . .

I wasn't being fanciful. The captain's brother had brought me here, as directly as if he had led me by the hand. But what for? What was I supposed to do now? The boulder was twenty feet high and covered with gray green lichen, devoid of footholds, too steep to climb. There was no cave in which to hide anything, no message carved in the rock, no secret passageway. I felt like throwing myself down on the ground and crying like a baby.

But before I did that, I just happened to walk around behind the boulder, where there was a little sandy knoll among the trees, protected from the wind. And there I found a tumbled down pile of rotten timbers that must have once been a primi-tive shack or lean-to. And buried under the boards discovered the battered trunk, not locked, but with hinges so rusty that I had to bang it with a rock before I could get it open. And inside it, a small object, some kind of tarnished metal box.

It was exactly like Treasure Island or "The Gold Bug." The marks on my bedroom wall were the map, pointing to the treasure that could have been hidden here over one hundred years ago. The object itself, I had to admit, seemed unprepossessing at first glance. But maybe the real treasure was hidden inside the rusty little box. I knew there had to be something important about it.

"Hey, look! There's Joe, over to the right." It was Manny's voice, coming from the woods.

"He's limping. Hey, Joe! We're overtaking you after all!" Zena cried shrilly.

"But I'll get there first, anyway," Joe called back, panting. His voice was alarmingly close. I could hear the rustle and crunch of underbrush now as they plowed toward me through the trees.

I covered the empty trunk with boards and stood up. I got out of the clearing and raced around to the front of the boulder, clutching the object. They hadn't come the way I had, so all I had to do to get away from them was to run the few dozen yards along the top of the dune and then dark back into the trees at the same spot at which I had emerged only minutes before.

They were fast, faster than I had expected. While I had been wasting time wandering stupidly around in the woods, they had zeroed in on the exact spot.

"Here's the boulder! I discovered it!" Zena cried, with frantic excitement.

"Hey, no fair kicking!" Manny squealed.

"I saw it first!"

"But I'll get there first!"

I hurried away from them into the trees. But I found it first, I called silently after them. I had little trouble retracing my steps, and got back to the landing place on the beach before they did. I worked out a plausible story about getting lost in the woods on the northern end of the island. And I didn't make the mistake of sitting around and staring at the little box while I was out in the open and there was even the slightest chance they might see me. I shoved it into the pocket of my jeans.

They hadn't even touched the food.

I had thought the ride out to the island was uncomfortable, but it was luxurious compared to the trip back.

All three of them were in a rotten mood when they returned. They asked me desultorily where I had been, and they seemed to believe my story about getting lost on the other end of the island. After that they made no effort to be sociable, but just sat around glaring at each other until the tide was high enough again to start back.

But the weather had changed. The water was choppy and the wind kept shifting. Even Joe had trouble controlling his board. It thrashed and pitched and scraped my arms horribly, Joe kept shouting at me to stop rocking it, as though the weather were my fault, and we capsized several times in the middle of the bay. The water was like ice. I was shivering so helplessly that I could barely hold on to the board.

Still, I had found the treasure first, before they had. However miserable I was now, I could look forward to examining it at leisure in my room when the day was over.

Or so I tried to tell myself as I came limping and shivering into our house. There were cooking noises coming from the kitchen. I made a rush for the stairs, hoping at least to get into dry clothes before Mom got a look at me, but she was too fast. "Barney, you're soaking wet! And with that burn!"

I had made it to the landing. "I'm not really wet . . . and I'm not cold at all," I said, through blue lips and chattering teeth.

"Well, I think it might have been wiser to wait until your burn was better before going off with those people on an all-day outing."

She must have seen me riding back in the neighbors' car. "It's just that they had to go out to the island today," I said, truthfully. "And I really wanted to see what it was like out there. It was my only chance."

"Oh, and look at all the sand you've tracked in," Mom said.

Dad laughed. "There's no way to keep sand out of a beach house," he said. "What was the island like, Barney? It's supposed to be one of the most isolated wildlife sanctuaries in the area. See anything interesting?"

"I guess all the animals were hiding from us," I said. "Maybe we made too much noise."

"Did you learn any more about them?" Mom asked me eagerly. She glanced at Dad. "Too bad we went out so early—we could have gone with them too. I'm sure those two young men knew all about wildlife. They have the look of ... of forest rangers, or something," she added dreamily.

Mom had never before shown the slightest interest in wildlife.

"She does seem to be having a good influence on Barney," Dad said, watching me with a peculiar half smile. "Er, I mean, they all do. Getting him interested in nature."

"Well, I just hope you're not pushing yourself at the neighbors," Mom said. "After all, they're sophisticated adults, and I'm sure they know everyone who matters in this area. They told us yesterday that they have scads of invitations. So it's very kind of them to include you, but you mustn't be a pest."

"I'm sure Barney isn't a pest, but he should be aware that people with their responsibilities can't just play all the time," Dad said. "They probably have a lot of important work to do, even on vacation."

"But they don't," I argued. "The only thing they care about is—"

Mom interrupted me as though I didn't know what I was talking about. "All we're saying is, Barney, that you mustn't be hurt if sometimes they want to get rid of you. After all, they're so much older than you."

"No, they're not," I said. How had Mom and Dad managed to pick up such a completely unreal picture of the neighbors? "They're hardly more than college age."

Mom smiled knowledgeably. "Well, that's very generous of you, Barney. Now you take a hot shower and get some dry clothes on before dinner." She started for the kitchen.

Upstairs I peeled off my clothes and headed quickly for the shower, too chilled and shivering for the moment to take a good look at the object I had found, whatever it was. I was proud of myself for finding it first, but also felt slightly guilty. After all, the creased and faded document proved that the neighbors had been looking for it for a while, and it was a little unfair that I should suddenly come along and whisk it out from under their noses.

Of course, I could always just give it to them, if it turned out to be rightfully theirs. But I wasn't going to do that right away, I decided. I'd keep it long enough at least to find out what it was, and why they wanted it so much. And I could take my time, because I was pretty sure they had no idea that I had it. If they had suspected that, they would certainly have tried to get it away from me back on the island, and they had almost totally ignored me.

The one thing that did worry me was endangering my friendship with them by being so pushy today. I had to make up for it somehow, and get back in their good graces again. It wasn't just that they were the only interesting people around, and I'd be bored without them. There was also a powerful attraction about them that was difficult to explain. I just knew, somehow, that I wanted them to like me, very much indeed.

I was fortunate, in any case, that Mom and Dad did not object to my spending so much time with older people, as I would have expected them to. Perhaps their lenience had something to do with the image the neighbors were able to project. They made a good impression on everybody, it seemed—another useful skill they had perfected.

And yet it was more than just a good impression, I thought, as I gingerly dried myself. The picture they created of themselves seemed to differ, depending on the observer. Mom and Dad thought the neighbors were their own age. Mom was not only uncharacteristically attracted to them, but she also assumed they knew all the "important" people. Dad had the idea that they had some kind of vital role to play in the world, and so he found them interesting and impressive. What Mom and Dad saw in the neighbors, it seemed, was precisely what each of them wanted to see.

I stood naked in my room, the towel hanging from my hand. And what about myself? Was I also seeing some kind of unreal image of them? Was that what their attraction was?

And if so, what was the reality underneath?

"Barney! Dinner!"

I dropped the towel and angrily pulled open a drawer. I was getting carried away by the captain's bizarre story, by the imaginary intricacies of Interstellar Pig. The neighbors were exceptionally winning people, and exceptionally rich. It was only natural that people would want to like them, and be liked in return. And I certainly hadn't been under any kind of delusion when I had seen how sullen and quarrelsome they could be today, when things didn't go exactly as they wanted. As for Mom and Dad, they probably needed glasses.

I picked up my wet pants, to make sure the little box was there.

"Your dinner's getting cold, Barney!"

I felt the box through the cloth, then draped the pants over the chair. I would have to wait until after dinner to examine it carefully.

But even then I didn't get a chance. We had barely finished eating when Manny came to the door, telling Mom how delicious everything smelled, exclaiming with delight over a bite of her Grape-Nut pudding, then remembering to mention that he had come to pick up a book I had borrowed. "And maybe Barney's ready for a four-man game—that is, if he has your permission to leave before the dishes are done. We'd really have to start right away or there wouldn't be time."

I dashed upstairs to get the rule book. I had time only to slip the little box out of my wet pants and hide it at the bottom of a drawer.

"I hope you don't think we're monopolizing him," Manny was explaining when I came down. "If you've known any bridge addicts, you'll understand. You've just got to have that fourth player— and Zena says Barney does seem to have an aptitude for the game."

Both Mom and Dad were staring rather foolishly at Manny, like infatuated teenagers. I felt embarrassed for them and uncomfortable. Were these really my normal, ordinary parents? Manny must think they were a pair of dopes.

"What kind of game is it?" Dad finally asked.

"Oh, it's kind of a science fiction adventure game," Manny explained, edging for the door.

"I guess it must help you to relax, unwind, get your minds off more important things," Dad suggested.

"Why don't you all come over here for a snack or a drink or something when the game is over?" Mom said, nearly panting with eagerness.

"That's very sweet of you, but I can't promise for the others," Manny said.

"The game can be rather draining."

"Well then be back by ten," Mom said to me, sounding miffed—she actually seemed to be jealous! "I don't want you getting overtired and catching cold."

"We'll build a big fire and drown him in hot chocolate," Manny said. "And we promise to throw him out on the dot of ten, even if the game isn't over. Come on, amigo." Beaming warmly, he held the door open for me.

I was so relieved at being back in their good graces that I didn't stop to wonder why, after treating me like an unwanted pest all afternoon, they should already, this quickly, be so eager for my company. And what about the frustration and disappointment they must be feeling about not finding the object of their painstaking search? Didn't it occur to me that their sudden ebullience, in face of that, was a shade suspicious?

It didn't. What occurred to me was that they were dying for a four-handed game of Interstellar Pig. And so was I.

Zena, by some coincidence, once again drew Zulma, the brilliant and hideous spider-lady from Vavoosh.

Manny drew Moyna, one of the octopuslike gas bag creatures from Flaeioub, with an IRSC of 22.9. It was this species that Zena had so casually infected with Lanthrococcus molluscans in the last game, and I kind of hoped that now Manny would pay her back.

Joe drew Jrlb, a water-breathing gill man from Thrilb, who looked like a swordfish with rudimentary arms and legs and had an IRSC of 16.

And I drew up Luap, a sapient reptile from Ja-Ja-Bee, the ice planet. I was glad to see that he was humanoid in appearance, except for his leathery green hide and three eyes. He also had a symbiotic relationship with a sluglike invertebrate that lived inside his mouth. He was oxygen-breathing, but couldn't remain for long in temperatures much over 32 degrees Fahrenheit or his blood would boil. His IRSC was a depressing 25.

There was something gnawingly familiar about Luap, and I wondered vaguely which science fiction novel had included a creature similar to him. But once the game got going, I stopped thinking about it.

And it certainly was another game from the simple-minded two-handed version I had played with Zena, in which both players always knew who had The Piggy. Now, any of the other three might have it, if you didn't. How on earth did you go about figuring out which one it was? I had no idea and would have been a goner before the game even began.

Only, I had The Piggy.