Beowulf's Children Part 18

"Ghastly business." Katya's "upper-cla.s.s" English accent was terrible.

"Not a black-tie occasion?"

"They'd eat the tie too. Now, our barmy zoologist began wondering: what's in it for the fish?"

He dropped his voice. "So they went to the village where it happens. Where the natives throw pigs into the water, for the entertainment of the tourists. And they'd throw one of these terrified creatures in the water, and it would thrash-and the water would churn with blood. Piranhas ripped it to ribbons in a couple of minutes. Just like in the movies."

Justin was getting into it now. "And he wondered: Was it the blood?

Was it? And he took a b.l.o.o.d.y knife, and slipped it into the water . . . "

They held their a.s.sembled breath.

"And nothing happened. Nothing. And then . . . he slipped his foot into the water."

"Jesus. What happened?"

"Nothing. And then he slipped his hand into the water-"

"Christ! Did he stick his d.i.c.k in the water too?"

"I have no idea," Justin said haughtily. "I did hear that he later requested an audition with the Vienna Boy's Choir, but that was likely a coincidence." Justin gave the speaker a nasty look.

"At any rate-then he slapped the water with an oar, and they went crazy." He leaned back. "It was the splash that did it, all along. Drives 'em nuts."

Aaron nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "I bet you have trees overhanging.

Monkeys or something fall in occasionally . . . "

"Yeah. Instant piranha chow."

"Well, but there aren't many trees that overhang the water, and monkeys aren't that stupid," Chaka said. "Not enough critters fall in the water, certainly not enough to affect evolution of the fish."

"So why?" Aaron asked. "What is in it for the fish?"

"Absolutely nothing," Chaka said. "It's extra behavior."

"Extra?"

"Extra. Extraneous. Useless. Something that got genetically coded with a real survival characteristic. Happens all the time."

"We haven't found anything like that here," Justin said.

"How do you know? We haven't had the chance to look," Katya said. "Not over here. We understand Camelot, but really, the grendels didn't leave much to understand. Here there's a real ecology, but they won't let us come look at it."

"They," Heather said solemnly. "The First."

"They're just trying to take care of us," Sharon McAndrews said.

"Aren't they?"

"Jailers take care of their charges, too," Aaron said. "You can't be a prison warder without a prisoner-"

Sharon McAndrews frowned. "You told us that you would tell us some things. About our parents." The other kids echoed her enthusiastically, but she sounded a little nervous.

Justin, Jessica and Aaron looked at each other. "Not tonight," Aaron said softly. "Tomorrow night. But not tonight."

"Why then? Why not now?"

"Because-" Justin began.

"You sound like a First," Heather said.

"Maybe I do. But we do have reasons," Justin said. "These are things you have to learn first. You'll know before we leave here."

"Is that a promise?" Sharon McAndrews sounded younger than her twelve years.

"Sure, it's a promise," Aaron said.

They sipped their coffee, and watched each other without speaking. Unspoken was the thought: First, Carey Lou has an appointment. He won the lottery.

Carey Lou had been asleep for no more than an hour when they came for him. They said nothing. Blindfolded him and tied his hands behind his back. Thrust a rope between his teeth. Someone spoke, in a voice too gruff for recognition: "Hold on to this, and follow us. If you drop it, we leave you for the grendels."

Thank G.o.d they slipped shoes onto his feet before leading him away from the camp, out into the woods.

He had no idea how long he walked, or what time it was.

He lost track of the distance. He could see nothing, but felt every slap of brush, heard every night sound. He kept telling himself that this was calculated. This was all planned. They wouldn't really leave him for the grendels . . .

Still, his teeth bore down on that half-inch hemp until he was certain that it would break off in his mouth.

"Shhh," Justin whispered. He adjusted his night gla.s.ses, binoculars with big lenses to gather as much light as possible, and focused in. Fourteen-year-old Carey Lou was about twenty-five yards from the edge of the water, and looked ready to soil his pants. Unfortunately, he wasn't wearing pants. Or s.h.i.+rt, or socks-anything, in fact, but an expression of stark terror. The boy stared back at them beseechingly. His hands were strangling the grendel gun. He knew that somewhere back in those shadows was Heather McKennie, she of the cutoff jeans, freckles, tanned hide, and raunchy sense of humor. Heather, a whole enormous two years older than Carey. Heather would be his prize . . .

If he survived the night.

"Carey . . . " She called from somewhere in the darkness, beyond the torches.

"Oh, sleet," he said, and took another step closer to the water.

Twenty-three feet now.

Justin's rifle scope gave him a good angle on the pond. Aaron would be fifty feet to the north, similarly equipped. Little Chaka was farther south. All wore the modified infrared scopes. They would have barely a second to act, but that would be enough. Reacting to grendel flare was something Avalonians learned almost before they could walk.

Carey took another step closer to the water.

Burbling just beyond him was a spot already identified as a grendel hole. That meant a mama, and a flock of young'uns in the larval stage of grendel development. Samlon. They knew that upon maturation Mama would drive them out. In lean times she would eat the samlon themselves. On the island of Camelot, an entire ecology had developed-samlon eating algae, mamas eating samlon. They also knew that under ordinary circ.u.mstances, momma grendels would eat anything rather than their own young.

They would certainly eat tender fourteen-year-old colonists.

Jessica's voice wafted from somewhere in the bushes. "Just a little closer, Carey . . . "

Carey, stark naked, terribly alone, looked back into the brush. He would be blinded by the torches, unable to see anything.

Justin remembered his first grendel hunt. He hadn't been alone, but there hadn't been a backup team behind him either. He'd waded into the water, going slowly, feeling stark terror, but more too. Carey would be feeling that now.

Stark terror. Anger. Fear. And excitement, because if the grendel came and he survived, he would be a man.

Naked except for the grendel gun, s.h.i.+vering with the cold, Carey took another step toward the water- And then the water parted. Something glided from its depths. A black destroyer. A fanged shadow. A thing of terror and appet.i.te, made flesh. It blinked slowly, placidly at the naked creature trembling before it, and took a lazy step.

Carey s.h.i.+fted his rifle at the first disturbance. The kid was quick.

Skinny, but quick. Justin was already sighting- Carey screamed, aimed, and fired. The grendel gun bucked, and a splash of Day-Glo orange splayed across the grendel's snout. The grendel blurred, flying toward Carey at heart-stopping speed. Carey fired again, and shouted, "Oh, sleet!"

Another long second, and the marrow had to be freezing in his veins. Perhaps the first bitter words of condemnation and a forlorn prayer were beginning to form on his lips . . .

Then fire flared in the darkness behind the torches. Three shots almost as one. A quarter second later, a fourth shot. Then the grendel was. .h.i.t six, seven, eight times, slammed by heavy-caliber slugs that fried its nervous system, turned its a.s.sault into a leaping spasm, splas.h.i.+ng toward the paralyzed Carey, who seemed to be watching the entire tableau in slow motion.

He staggered to the left as the grendel thundered to earth. It was on its side, its projected prey forgotten now. Alive, but in an awful agony as its own speed sacs overloaded. A quarter ton of amphibian death clawed at the ground, screaming, chasing its own tail in diminished circles, tearing up earth and rock and gra.s.s there in the half circle of the firelight, its dying hiss burning their ears . . .

Steam rose from its body. Its claws and tail trembled, twitched, and were still at last.

Carey turned back to look at them as they emerged from the shadows. Jessica hung back, her motion sensors wary for additional predators. They were pretty certain about this-only one momma per hole. But grendels had surprised them before.

Not this time, but it had happened.

"You . . . b.a.s.t.a.r.ds," Carey said. Panting, he flung his rifle down on the ground. Pitiful in his nakedness, he had clearly wet himself, but was unconscious of it.

"You incredible b.a.s.t.a.r.ds." He took another breath, and held it. This was a critical moment. He looked back at the grendel. Justin remembered the first time they had done this, and what the kid had said afterward. There had been no one to do this for him-he was one of the eldest Star Born, and no Earth Born even dreamed that something like the Grendel Run was going on. None of the Earth Born would do something so risky . . . and so much fun.

But he knew that Carey was looking at them. And the rifles, and then at the grendel. And remembering the incredibly short pause before the grendel was blown back into the water. Less than a second. Time enough to lose control of his bladder. Time enough to feel more naked and defenseless than he had ever imagined a human being could feel. Time enough to experience the incredible precision required by a kill team.

Carey looked at them and swallowed. He knew somehow that his entire reputation for machismo rested upon what he said next.

"Well . . ." He strained to sound casual. He bent, picked up his rifle. He walked toward them until he was standing three feet from Justin. He extended the rifle with his left hand. Justin extended his own right to take it-and Carey hit him, quite hard and very quickly, with his right fist, just under the left ear.

Justin stumbled back, tripped, and went down.

Finally Carey smiled. "That was . . . pretty fair shooting." He watched Justin carefully.

Justin pushed himself up to a sitting position. He felt his jaw tenderly. "Got a pretty good right there, kid." And held up his hand.

Carey took it and yanked him up, then stood with his legs slightly apart, well balanced. His lopsided grin was challenging. "Hendrick's a good coach," he said. Justin nodded. No action. A great sigh seemed to go through them all, a release of tension.

"You'd have got him, you know," Justin said. "It was a good hit."

"Why the h.e.l.l do you do that?" Carey asked.

"It's fun," Aaron said.

Justin frowned. "We had a kid panic once. n.o.body got shot, but it was close."

"Why paint? Ca.s.sandra would know if I hit-oh."

"Heh. Ca.s.sandra doesn't know about this. Jesus, can you imagine what Zack would do?"

They all laughed.

"So who panicked?"

Justin looked at him and shook his head.

"Edgar," Aaron said.

Carey smiled knowingly.

"Got the grendel, though," Justin said.

Carey coughed politely. "Who's got my clothes? My nuts are freezing."

Heather sashayed out of the dark. "Here's a blanket," she said sweetly. The blanket was wrapped around her. When she opened it, there was nothing underneath but Heather.

Carey swallowed hard. It wasn't certain, but the good bet was that Carey was still a virgin. Well, this evening would see the end of that onerous burden.

Heather wrapped the blanket around the both of them, and Carey became very, very involved in a kiss. Amid the general cheering, the two of them retreated from the firelight.

Aaron grinned. "Today I am a man," he said.

"Indeed. Now. Jessica-any other ghoulies about?"

"No grendel-sized heat sources. Let's harvest some samlon."

By the time they got back to Heorot, Tau Ceti was rising over the mountains.

Mercifully, the day was set for lazing and play. Carey Lou managed to stagger to his tent and collapse. Or at least they a.s.sumed that he was collapsing. Heather was with him, and the more Justin thought about it, the more he was convinced that a fourteen-year-old libido just might be impervious to fatigue, fear, and a thorough workout by the (rumor had it) inexhaustible Miss McKennie.

Ah, youth.