Robert Adams - Bili the Axe

But the bear ignored the motionless man and charged on at the brace of riders behind. Had these soldiers—for such they were—been armed as primitively as were all other soldiers of this world and time, the maddened bear might well have had the satisfaction of fleshing claws and fangs before death. Instead a heavy-caliber rifle bullet smashed his spine and dropped him flopping in the weeds and dead leaves; the fierce snarls became a pitiful whimpering just before a second bullet blew out one side of his skull and ended his life.

A quarter mile back, with the main column, General Jay Corbett heard the closely spaced pair of gunshots and spurred forward, trailed by Major Gumpner and Old Johnny Kilgore, their pistols out and armed. Halfway up to the van, they met the runaway mule, its wide eyes rolling in fear, galloping flat out, but Old Johnny adroitly blocked the animal with his own mount and secured the loose reins.

By the time the old, bald Ganik caught up to the two officers, they had dismounted and joined the group in the vanguard who had alit to tend their semiconscious comrade and examine the dead bear. Passing the reins of the still highly agitated mule to one of the mounted troopers, the chief of scouts kneed his beast closer to the officers, then slipped his feet from his stirrups and slid down the off side to the ground to stride with a loose-limbed gait over to where lay the dusty-black carcass of the bear.

Wrinkling his pug nose, he remarked, “Suthin’ shore do stink, Gen’rul Jay. Rackun some yore boys is a-trainin’ fer to be Ganiks?”

A grin flitted across the senior officer’s olive, Ahrmehnee countenance; most Ganiks never washed and often went clothed in poorly cured or raw skins and hides. “Not quite, Johnny, not quite. I think it’s the bear we smell. Here, some of you men, let’s get him turned on his other side. Christ, but he’s big! If he was in full flesh, I’ll bet he’d weigh in at six, seven hundred pounds, easy.”

The dead bear’s ribs and spine were clearly visible through his wrinkly skin and dull, lifeless coat. The reason for his insensate fury, starved condition and the gagging stench he emanated was clearly evident when the limp carcass was manhandled over onto its near side, however.

Most of the off side of the thick torso had been rubbed down to a nauseating mess of oozing flesh and crawling maggots. Heedless of the circle of men, a black cloud of flies descended to resume interrupted feedings immediately the bear was turned, and all of the men waved hands to keep strays from their sweaty dusty faces.

“Johnny,” Corbett asked above the droning of the flies, “what in hell happened to this bear? Have you ever seen the like of this?”

The old man squatted beside the crawling carcass, lifted the stubby tail and considered the anus, then reached over the ham to poke about with a forefinger in the area between the short ribs and the pelvis. Slowly, he arose, wiping his finger on the leg of his trousers.

“Gen’rul Jay, it’s boun’ fer to be suthin’ in that there bar’s innards hurtid him plumb fierce. ‘Pears he done been a-shittin’ blood fer some time naow. I guesses a-rubbin’ up ‘ginst trees and rocks musta eased him some, so he jest kep’ at it till he’d wore awf awl the hair an’ the skin, too. An’ then th’ dang flies went at Mm, o’ course. It’s suthin’ in his belly, but ain’ no way fer to tell whut, ‘lest we’s to cut ‘im opuned an’ look… ?”

Twenty minutes later, Corbett, Gumpner and Johnny Kilgore passed around and examined the object the old man had dug out and removed from the dead bear’s terribly inflamed abdominal cavity—a deeply barbed bronze weapon point a good seven and a half centimeters long and five wide; socketed into the base of the crude point was a bit of hardwood dowel about two centimeters in diameter by a bit less than ten long, the unshod end being mashed and splintered.

Seeing Johnny first frown, then shake his head, Corbett snapped, “What is it, man? You recognize the origin? Is that it?”

Johnny nodded, the sunlight glinting on his bald head. “I shore Lawd does, Gen’rul Jay. Thet there be Ganik work. It useta be the end piece awf a Ahrm’nee sword sheath—they ushly makes up good p’ints fer darts an’ they ain’ so hard fer to work up as ir’n or steel is. Looks as how thet ol’ bar, he bit awf the resta the shaf’, then the p’int jest workted awn in futher.”

During his weeks with Erica and Braun in the Ahrmehnee stahn , Corbett could recall having seen many a wood-and-leather sword case with handsomely decorated throat, bands and chapes of cast bronze, and now, after Johnny’s identification, he could detect the ghost of the one time art object in the hammered, defaced and sharp-honed point. But that was not what sent an icy chill coursing the length of his spine or set the hairs on his nape aprickle.

“Johnny,” he said slowly, “I thought you said that Ganiks never, ever came this far south. How far could a bear travel, wounded that seriously? Ten miles? Maybe twenty, at the outside? But by your reckoning, we’re still nearly a week’s march away from the southernmost Ganik areas.”

The old man shrugged, palms outward. “Lawdy, Gen’rul Jay, I nevuh said I knowed everthin ‘bout everthin, did I? The bunch I ‘uz runnin’ with whin you come to club me daown, it ‘uz the futhes’ south Ganik bunch that wuz. An”t’placet where yawl kilt everbody ‘cept of me, that were as fer south as eny of us’d ever rode afore. That be awl I knows ‘bout it.”

He looked and sounded hurt, so Corbett forced a smile and a soothing tone. “All right, Johnny, all right—I’m not doubting you. I’ve never known you to lie about anything.”

Then, turning to Gumpner, he said, “All right, Gump, we’ve got an iffy situation now, with a possibility of hostiles around the next turn. Two- or three-man points from now on, nobody to ride alone, in van, column or rearguard, for any reason; no one to break column for any purpose without the okay of his superior and without a couple of other men to accompany him.

“The van will maintain the same interval from the main column, but put a full squad halfway between the rear of the van and the head of the column; same thing for the rearguard, too. I want to know the very second a Ganik is sighted by anyone.

“Make certain that all those civilian packers have their weapons loaded and ready for action. And by tonight’s halt, I want a damned good reason for why the leader of the van didn’t at least try to contact the head of the column by transceiver to let us know precisely why those shots were fired.”

He came erect, then added, “When we camp tonight, Johnny, we’ll rig you up as planned, give you the worst-looking pony we can find, then let you start riding advance point, two or three kilometers ahead, anyhow. If you still want to, at least. I won’t order you to—it could easily be your death.”

Kilgore’s head bobbed in a short nod of assent. “Shit, gen’rul, I ain’ a-scairt of no livin’ Ganiks. ‘Sides, they awl knows me; I rid with the bunches fer a passel of years and them as ain’ nevuh seed me has shore Lawd heerd of me. So shore I’ll ride out termorrer, but afore we-awls leaves here, I wawnts me whut hide thet bar’s got lef awn ‘im, an’ iffen a couple the boys wuz to help me, I c’n skin ‘im a helluva lot quicker.”

Foot to stirrup, Corbett turned and demanded, “In the name of God, man, why would you want that stinking, verminous thing, Johnny?”

The reformed cannibal showed gapped, yellowed teeth in a broad grin. “Wai, Gen’rul Jay, suh, if I means fer to pass fer a wil’, bunch Ganik, lahk I wuz, I’m way too clean, me an’ my clo’s too. Smelly as it be, I figgers thet bar skin’ll be jes’ the thang fer to cover up haow purty I smells.”