Caine glanced back at the green-skinned creatures who waited in the
green growth.
"I told you," the boy screamed, "you go on! Do you hear me?"
* * * * *
Caine held his hands at his sides, feeling his nerves tremble inside of
him. It wasn't fear of the Venusians that made him tense. It was the
boy with the pistol and the girl and the total of things.
They were in forbidden territory, trespassing on ground called sacred
to the native people of this planet. Caine, who had worked so hard to
help preserve the sanctity of these people's rights, had become now
like the rest of the Colonists he had hated so much. He had brought the
evil into the center of the Venusians' own private domain, and he was
responsible.
"Did you hear me?" the boy screamed.
"Yes," Caine said, closing his fingers against his palms. "I heard
you." He watched the muzzle of the gun. If the boy's eyes found the
Venusians, he would pump the gun wildly at them and there would be
death, and the impact of it could unbalance the whole structure of the
relationship that already was leaning precariously.
"Well, then, you do what I tell you."
Caine's eyes narrowed.
"Nic," the girl said. "Do what he says. He's crazy, he--"
The boy's left hand lashed out and struck the girl. She stumbled to the
ground.
"You shouldn't have done that," Caine said, stepping forward.
The boy crouched, holding the gun with both hands. "You don't move any
further. Do you hear? You don't move any further!"
Caine took another step and then he heard the movement of the Venusians
behind him. He saw the boy's eyes widen, and out of the corners of his
own eyes Caine could see the green skin of the approaching natives.
The boy cocked his head, his eyes shifting rapidly. His mouth was a
grotesque leer. He yelled, "Oh, no, you filthy ..." and then the sound
of his voice was lost in the explosion of the gun.
As though he were dreaming, Caine saw the jerking of the pistol in the
boy's hand. He heard the peculiar screams around him as the bullets
sprayed the clearing. He felt his shoulder burn as a wild slug cut his
skin. Then he was diving forward.
The boy leaped sideways out of Caine's reach, falling and climbing up
again, still firing the pistol. He yelled crazily, spinning and firing,
and all of a sudden there was an end to the sound and the movement.
The boy was facing the clearing from the edge of the enclosing growth.
His face was a surprised, contorted thing, and the pistol dropped out
of his hand. He coughed once, and looked down at the red end of the
razor leaf that had gone through his back and now showed its gleaming
point through the center of his chest.
The boy crumpled and hung on the plant like a punctured rag doll. His
head lolled at a twisted angle and his open eyes stared unseeing at the
clearing.
Caine was on his knees, his hand against the wounded shoulder. The girl
still lay on the soft grass, unhurt, but her face was pale beneath the
golden tan.
Two Venusians lay sprawled across the clearing, their large lidless
eyes staring at the sky. There was no sign of the others, and the
jungle was silent.
Caine crawled to his feet. The wound of his shoulder was slight and
already the flow if blood had diminished, but his skin felt as though
it had been razed by fire.
The girl stood up slowly and looked at him, her eyes showing that fear
had finally gotten inside of her.
Caine's eyes were hard as he stared back at her, and the hate and
indignation for what had just happened made his stomach tighten and
his hands tremble. In that instant, he detested the sight of the girl
because she was a part of the group that had bred the crazed specie
that hung now on the tip of a razor plant.
He wanted to hurt her, to make her suffer for the two green-skinned
beings that lay dead; two more victims of a sweeping cruel invasion
that cared nothing for the inherent rights of a native race; victims
because they had been naive and trusting and basically honest.
So because he wanted to hurt her, he walked quietly across the
clearing, lifted the limp body of the boy, and struck his hand across
the dead face.
Her cry was a short, shocked sound.
He snapped the body up again and drew his hand back.
"Don't!" she screamed. "Don't do that again!"
He saw the tears shining on her cheeks. Her lips were trembling and her
hands were white tight fists.
He let the body fall against the impalement of the plant. He noticed
then that the camera was still looped around the boy's neck. He held
the camera in his hand, and then he snapped the strap over the boy's
head and put it around his own neck.
"You louse," she said, her voice hissing through the small white teeth.
"Why don't you take his money, too?"
He looked at her, his eyes steady and cold. Then he dug a hand into
the pocket of the boy's jacket and drew out a wallet. He extracted a
thick packet of Colony currency, put it in his own pocket and threw
the wallet into the brush. His eyes were icy and full of hate when he
looked at her. "He forgot to pay me for this trip."
She cursed him.
Caine walked quickly across the clearing and examined the two
Venusians. Then he turned back to the girl.
"This is one they won't let go by. I'll guarantee that. Do you want to
wait for them with your friend?" Caine said, motioning toward the boy.
"Or do you want to face it with me?"
"I'll make you pay for hitting him," the girl said, controlling her
voice.
"Sure," Caine said, his smile a humorless curl of the mouth. He crossed
the clearing, picked up his gun and reentered the brush. He could hear
her following.
He hurried. The remainder of the group he had seen in the clearing
would be taking care of the two bodies now, and probably, the body of
the boy. There would be no violence or physical harm, but these people
were capable of strange things, and Caine felt himself searching the
brush around him tensely.
The girl followed him stubbornly. And Caine lengthened his strides,
smashing through the thick growth, dodging the razor leaves, skirting
the muck-like pools that appeared here and there.