Under the Canopy (11 page)

The platform touched the grass, and we stepped off it into the fine layer of snow. I walked forward, scanning the premises for the alien. Edlon looked alarmed. His eyes darted here and there, and his thumb slid beneath the shoulder strap of the rifle, ready for action.

'What are you looking for?' Edlon said, frowning.

'An ally,' I replied.

Even though my back was turned to him, I knew that Edlon stopped in his tracks. 'You didn't talk to
him
, did you?' he said with a metal lash in his words.

I looked around as if afraid of being heard and walked to Edlon. 'He came to me and told all this. I know that it's dangerous, but we have to sort this problem out.'

'He…' Edlon said under his breath.

A barking voice came from behind us. 'Hello.'

I flinched and turned to the sound. Edlon jumped back, throwing the rifle off his shoulder and into his hands. He clicked the safety and raised the weapon to his eyes.

R'lok had stepped out of the brush and was now standing in the open. He looked at the alarmed humans and read us perfectly. Slowly, moving only his limb, he raised the right arm and touched the ax in his belt. He stopped.

Edlon's finger danced over the trigger. I saw that and raised my hand -
wait
.

R'lok saw that. He slowly pulled the ax out of his belt and held it up with the tips of his fingers, showing it to us. R'lok jerked his arm, and the weapon flew to the side. It landed with a soft thump in the grass powdered with snow. After that, he raised both arms in the air and walked forward.

'I have come to talk,' he said. 'No shooting.' R'lok kept on walking and looking ahead, right at Edlon.

'Lower your weapon,' I said coarsely. 'We need him, and he needs us.'

'Riiight,' Edlon said, and the barrel of his rifle turned skyward. 'Hello, R'lok. Long time no see.'

R'lok approached the rangers and lowered his hands. There were several feet between them. 'Hello, Edlon.'

'There will be only two of us, R'lok,' I said. 'That will be enough.'
I hope.

R'lok bowed his head. 'I believe you, thundergod.'

At the sound of that, Edlon burst out a single laugh. 'Look at him, so mannered.'

R'lok didn't pay attention to that. 'I have come for help, and I will accept anything you have to offer.'

At that moment, we heard honking from above. The three of us looked up and saw Ort coming down. He circled over us and landed on the ground. The big man dismounted and walked to us like there was nothing strange happening. 'Wealder, Edlon,' he acknowledged our presence with a nod. 'R'lok.' He gave the alien the same courtesy.

'Why didn't you answer?' I said. 'I thought you didn't receive my message.'

'I did. I'm here.' Unbeatable logic. 'So what's happened?'

Before I could say anything, Edlon filled him in. 'The idiot here went on a picnic, got lost, walked back, shot some tikilis and had his rifle stolen by a native.'

'Ah,' Ort said. Not a muscle moved on his face. 'That's why there are more of them.'

Edlon and I exchanged glances and waited for an explanation, but Ort didn't give one. A bird hooting somewhere in the woods filled the silence.

R'lok coughed. 'D'lem has thunderstick now.'

'That bonehead,
hurm,
' Ort said and spat on the ground. 'How many?'

'He has taken over four villages already. Took warriors as hostages, they will fight for him now. Force gathered at river. More conquest soon.'

Edlon and I had been completely excluded out of the conversation. Ort and R'lok seemed to understand each other with minimum words. I could feel fat chunks of information flowing through the air, but couldn't grasp them.

Edlon stepped forward, holding the rifle in front of him like a shield. 'Whoa, whoa, back up. You want us to do the dirty job, but what will
you
do?'

I didn't like that Edlon berated the alien like that and threw a dirty look at him. 'He is here because of me,' I said. 'Don't push him.'

R'lok turned to me. 'I will bring allies from villages beyond river. They not want guidance from D'lem.'

Hearing that, I sounded my surmise. 'We have to kill only the chief, right?'

'Right,' R'lok said. 'When he dead, hostages will be released from oath of power. New guide will take his place.'

'You,' Edlon said, smirking.

There was ringing silence beneath the cabin.

'Maybe,' R'lok said, looking straight at Edlon.

Edlon laughed, baring his teeth. 'I
knew
it! You conniving piece of shit…' He sipped the air through his teeth and raised the rifle. The barrel looked right into R'lok's face, but he didn't flinch. 'I say we kill him now. Let the freaks deal with it themselves. It has nothing to do with order and peace. It's just this fuck over here trying to get ahead in life.'

What the fuck?! I couldn't believe my ears. Edlon had just left the whacko territory and mounted the psycho train. I unconsciously shifted away from him.

'D'lem danger to thundergods too,' R'lok said, looking past the barrel. 'He sent men to steal metal from tree-eaters. Make new weapons. Gather army. He not afraid of you.'

'We must stop the heresy,' Ort said. 'As fast as possible. D'lem can bring about a catastrophe. For everyone.'

Edlon balked. His lips moved, searching for words, but didn't find them. He lowered the rifle. 'Alright,' he said and looked into the ground the back at the alien. 'When will you have those allies?'

'Tomorrow at day,' R'lok said. 'I offer attack when light will start to dim. D'lem and men will be crossing river for night attack.'

Another thought occurred to me. 'Does any of them understand human?'

This time Edlon answered. 'No. He,' Edlon nodded at R'lok, 'is the only one. We have tried teaching them, but the whole affair crashed and burnt.'

I saw that something dark passed at that moment between Edlon and R'lok. Something from their shared past.

'That doesn't matter,' I said. 'You will be our inside man.'

Ort looked at the flashlight tucked in R'lok's belt. 'Can you give signals with light?'

R'lok raised his fist into the air and waved the other palm over it.

'Great,' Ort nodded. 'We can use that.'

Edlon looked at that exchange and bitterly smiled. 'So we are a go,' he said with weary resignation in his voice.

'Yes,' Ort said. 'Now we should discuss the plan of our attack.'

And so we did.

When I woke up the next day, I felt a tingling in my whole body. In the back of my mind, I knew this could be my last day in this world. However, there was no turning back.

I checked the cameras and the weather forecast. All clear and ready to go. I went on a patrol, but my mind was so concerned with the battle ahead that I nearly drove into the crown of a young tree. Returning home, I tried to read, but it didn't work out too. So I got busy with maintenance. I checked and refueled the scooter. Afterwards, I dismantled the rifle and cleaned its every part with oil. Such meticulous work soothed my nerves, but it was over sooner than I wished. After that, I just sat in the living room and stared at the ax on the wall. It promised nothing good in my immediate future. We were about to journey into our primeval past.

The departure time was approaching. I took a shower. There was the feeling that I should be clean if… something happened. I stood in the tub, propping myself on the wall with the forehead, and watched the water flow and circle down the drain.

The plan was rather simple. D'lem and his troops would cross the river upstream from us, gather their forces and move on the villages in that part of the forest. We would descend upon them during the crossing. The idea was to break the forces into two parts. R'lok said that his allies on the other bank were outnumbered by D'lem. That way we balanced the odds a bit. When some of them would be left on our side or stranded on the river, R'lok would attack on land and kill the chief. The whole plan hinged on the assumption that when their leader was dead, the rest of the army would surrender. Ort said it would be so. I hoped he was right.

I opened the arsenal, grabbing the rifle, and my gaze fell on the flare gun. Why not? I tucked it in my belt and went down to the garage. The gate opened, and a wave of cool air engulfed me.

Strips of mist had stretched across the sky, and a light snow was falling. No wind, thank God. I buckled up and set out for the rendezvous. We'd agreed to meet at that ill-fated crag, which was only fitting. I hovered over it and tried not to think. My anxiety was gone. All that remained was a hollow detachment, as if this was all happening not to me, but to a character in a movie. I needed to focus.

My brothers-in-arms arrived. Edlon was late as usual. He had put a flak vest on. I told him it would be useless against the spears, but he wouldn't listen. Ort was dressed in the same ranger fatigues as me. We rolled out, moving in a wedge formation, Ort in the lead. The snow had stopped and now rested lazily on the leaves and grass. We didn't talk.

We were already far into the wild-lands. Only drones had been here before us; no traveler dared step foot in this wilderness. I looked around and noticed a rusty manipulator hand sticking out of the ground. It was covered in moss and partly in snow. I looked away and concentrated on the task at hand.

Ort slowed down and raised his hand. He put the index finger up and pumped the arm. We got him. Three scooters rose up and up, along the mighty trunks and through the canopy. I felt twigs and leaves hit me in the face, but barely noticed them. We came out and rose above the forest. It was cold and fresh there, my lungs tingled, and I felt rejuvenated.

To the right of us, the canopy field abruptly broke, dropping into the river. We couldn't see it, but we heard its rumble. We moved to the sound.

There it was. Three scooters hung on the edge of the demarcation line between two parts of the forest. The river was wide and dark, its banks dressed with fine ice. The night was falling and cold mist rose off the water and smoked above its surface. Several rectangular boats were crossing it in a caravan. Were we late? I looked at the other side and adjusted my goggles.

Trees stood as dark guards on the bank facing us. Beneath and beyond them, I spied armed natives. They were bustling about, dragging boats on land and making formations. There weren't that many of them, but I was but a human and didn't see half of them. No torches, everything was done in the gloom. They were ghosts in the snow.

No allies in sight. I felt uneasy.

Ort took out a flashlight and raised it over his head. He intermittently pushed the button and released it, the light flickering on and off. At first, there was nothing. Then, deep in the forest gloom far beyond the disembarking army, another flash answered him. Ort repeated. The lonely flash winked to us, saying that we weren't alone here. I couldn't help but smile.

Ort tucked away his flashlight and turned to us. 'It's time.'

We shot forward like projectiles kept too long in the cannon's mouth. Wind whipped my face, but I peered straight ahead. It was my first whiff of real action in all my time in the army. I couldn't have ever imagined that it would be like this.

As we drew closer, I heard drums.

Our scooters burst into the clearing, and I got a better look at the troops.

They were crossing the river on flat boats with upturned noses that didn't sink into the water, but glided over it. Each had six armed warriors, four oarsmen two by two and a drummer on the nose. He sat cross-legged, facing the crew, and beat a small drum to give a rhythm. All men wore war paint, stripes and splotches of red and yellow that stood out on their snow-white skin. From above, they looked like colorful specters crossing from the land of the living to the great beyond.

One drummer spotted us and alerted the others. He changed the measured rhythm to a fast one-hand beat and pointed at us with the other arm. Warriors of different boats turned to us, some stood up and shouted.

It all happened in a couple of seconds. The moment the cacophony started, we split up. Ort went dead center, Edlon veered to the left and me to the right. I dropped the rifle off my shoulder and propped it on the right handlebar.

Ort made a pass down the caravan, honking the horn, blinking the headlights and letting out a guttural howl. Terrifying. The natives went apeshit. They shrieked and covered themselves with wooden shields, trying to escape the wrath of thundergods. I heard cracking from the other side. Ort said that Edlon knew his trade. Now I truly saw it. The man was standing in the saddle, shooting like a master marksman. Those he hit tumbled over and went into the water with a splash, never to emerge again. Native warriors were so terrified that they dropped their weapons and jumped into the river themselves. You may think that I used double standards, but this situation was different to the sawmill. We were at war.

As for me, I randomly fired over them. No point in unnecessary murder, if you ask me.

Suddenly, a crack came from the wrong side. I swayed the scooter and saw my man standing on the other bank. D'lem lived up to his fame alright. Taller than a human and muscle bound, he towered over his warriors and glared at us. The stolen rifle was raised over his head. The moment it thundered, the panic stopped, even Edlon went out of his shooting frenzy. D'lem shouted something, his voice booming in the cold air. Then the tables turned.

The natives regained their courage and started to throw spears and arrows at the unmerciful thundergods. I saw Edlon and Ort go higher, retaliating. The situation was going out of hand. I had to take the chief out.

I hurried to him, gaining altitude. Balancing the rifle and the scooter with one hand, I took out the flare gun with my left. I raised the hand with it into the air and squeezed the trigger. The flare hissed out of the barrel and raged skyward where it exploded with a bang. The river was lit by red light, echoes from the explosion reverberating between trees. Crimson flashes danced on the dark waves.

For a moment, the whole area grew still. They clearly hadn't seen a flare before. It hung in the air, like a star, blinking. A rumble came from the woods. The allies were advancing, pushing the invaders to the river.

I put the flare gun back into its holster and went for D'lem. He was so close now, I didn't even need to use the gunsight. The chief was the only one who didn't pay attention to the flare or to the incoming troops. He looked straight at me. There was something in his gaze that made me uneasy. The chief wasn't scared of no thundergods.

I fired.

I missed.

The bullet got D’lem in the chest, his shoulder flinched backwards, but nothing more. The chief grabbed a spear from the nearest warrior and ran at me. I fired again and got the wrong man. D'lem was now right under me. He turned the spear blade down and raised it for the throw. I aimed for another shot, but he was quicker. A mighty strike shook the scooter, throwing me out of the saddle.

I held on only by chance — my rifle was caught between the steering column and the basket. The machine rotated in the air, coming down, out of control. I held fast as long as I could, but then I slipped and fell. A moment of zero gravity, and I hit the thin ice. It cracked like paper, and cold water engulfed me.

I hit the bottom and got up on my feet; water reached up to my chest. So cold, it was eating me alive. The rifle dropped near me and was consumed by the river. I looked up and saw my scooter hovering in the air just above me, so close and so far. I heard a bark and knew what it meant even before I looked.

D'lem was coming at me, ice cracking beneath him. Big man with yellow paint curling on his chest. Ort was right — such a strong, fearless man was bad news for everyone.

I dived down and searched for my weapon in the murky waters. There! I felt the rifle's slick body under my fingers, so familiar. I jumped out and aimed at the chief.

He was just a couple of feet from me, and I couldn't miss. He stopped, looking at the muzzle. Behind him, I saw natives going at each other’s throats. Their axes flickered in the dying light of the crimson flare, and yellow blood flew in the air. I pulled the trigger.

Nothing. In the heat of the battle, I forgot that rifles won't shoot after submerging. Shit…

D'lem saw my failed attempt to kill him and laughed, or at least made a similar sound. He aimed at me, knowing that there was no way for me to escape. I could have dived, the water would have stopped the bullet. Instead, I didn't move, I was a rabbit in a train tunnel. The alien fired.

The bullet splashed beside me. By the perplexed expression on his face I understood one thing — he didn't know shit about rifles or shooting. D'lem must have thought that thundersticks killed by sound alone. Hence the name. It was only a symbol, a trophy. A weapon of the gods.

He aimed again. I looked behind his back and beamed. D'lem turned to look himself and at that moment a metal hatchet entered his face. The blade cut diagonally from the right eye to the left cheek, going deep. Blood flew in a cascade and splashed on his chest, mixing with the paint.

R'lok hung fast onto his weapon. He grabbed the chief by the shoulder and drew closer to him. He released the handle and started to beat the ax into D'lem's face. The big man dropped the stolen rifle into the river and caught his enemy's head in the pincers of his hands. He started to squeeze, trying to crush him, while R'lok hammered the metal ax deeper into the chief's skull.

The big man gave up first. His hands dropped down, and he descended into the water. R'lok turned to me, holding D'lem and smiling. He looked hideous, covered in blood, scarred and grinning like a mad man. He hugged D'lem by the chest and raised him above himself, straining every muscle. R'lok gave out a series of yelps that echoed over the river.

Silence descended upon us all. I looked around and saw that all fighting had stopped. Everyone was looking at R'lok with the dead chief in his hands and me at his side. I saw enemies helping each other get off the ground and knew that the battle was over. We won.

The flare died out.

The battle ended as swiftly as it began.

R'lok and I carried D'lem's heavy corpse to the bank and dumped it there. I looked around. The warriors were dragging dead bodies out of the water, ones that weren't carried away by the stream, and laying them on the bank. It was done carefully as if they were alive. A row of dead bodies, the death toll wasn't as steep as could be expected from "savages."

I heard humming from behind; that was Ort towing my scooter to the ground. The man looked less gloomy as usual, even cheerful. He saw me looking at him and gave me a merry nod.

The aliens also tended to the wounded disregarding the prior allegiance. It seemed to be their way, treating it all as if nothing had happened. I got a better look at them and that perplexed me even more. Many had metal weapons, yes, pieces of tracks sharpened into blades. But they also wore rubbish on them. Sawmill worker helmets, beer cans as earrings, gloves, sometimes just one. I saw a man with a blue scarf wrapped around his chest like a bra. Artifacts of thundergods. Compared to them, R'lok looked normal in his native clothes. And I thought that he was strange.

Speaking of him. The alien came to me, knelt and pressed his forehead to the ground. I saw old scars on his back. 'Thank you, Wealder,' he said. 'You saved our world.'

That must have been a sight to see. A sorry looking me, in damp clothes, blushing from cold and embarrassment, with a broken rifle in hands, and a native warrior, battle scarred, kneeling before the human. We live in a strange world.

'That's my job,' I said, smiling. 'And don't belittle yourself,
you
made it all real. Now, rise.'

R'lok got up and bowed his head. 'You very generous in praise, thundergod.' He left for his people.