Robert Adams - The Witch Goddess

Now, while the most of the Kuhmbuhluhners went along the far side of the ditch, the gleaming points of their longhafted pikes rising and falling as they coldly dispatched the trapped or wounded men below them, Merle could see the riders—all armored in fine plate, bearing sword and axe and spear and mace, closing in from both flanks on the bewildered Ganiks between the foot of the ridge and the man trap, and he knew what the end of that grim business must surely be… now.

To Horseface, Counter and the two or three other bullies around him, he said, “Ain’ nuthun none of us kin do, naow, mens. Twenty-odd bullies won’ mean diddlysquat ‘ginst awl them Kuhmbuhluhn fuckuhs. Le’s us mek tracks back to the camp, git whutawl we maht need and Ehrkah, then head awn souf. It’s awl I knows whut to do, aftuh awl thet down ther.”

In retrospect, Jay Corbett was certain that none of them would have lived through that savage bout of illness had old Johnny Skinhead Kilgore not come back only four days after he, Cabell, Homer and Braun had left. The old Ganik knew nothing of the antibiotics or of how to operate the “stick-you thangs,” but his hairless head held a vast storehouse of knowledge concerning medicinal plants and folk medicine. It had been that primitive doctoring that had pulled all save six of the men through, and those six—Allison, Farmer, Cox, Cash, Thurston and Corey—had been dead or nearly so when Johnny had gotten back.

Having been the last to succumb, Corbett was also the last to recover. When he finally stopped hallucinating, when both his sight and his speech became relatively clear and his mind began to sort some sense out of what his eyes and ears told him, the first sight he saw was the grinning face of Johnny, with the stubbled countenance of a pale-looking Gumpner behind and above the old cannibal.

“J… Johnny…? Gump… ner?”

“Yup, it be usuns, Majuh,” Johnny nodded. “Haow you a-feelin’?”

“Like… like I’ve lost track of time… a lot of it. Who came back from the base with you?”

The bald head shook slowly to and fro. “I am’ nevuh seed your base, yet awhile, Majuh. I come bek by mahownsef, and a dang good thang I did ‘er too. Elst awl yawl woulda been as daid as them six fellers whut is. Too bad too—they wuz awl of them good ole boys, they wuz.

“Naow, you feel lahk you kin eatchew suthin, Majuh? I got sum dang good coon stew, with wil’ garlicks and muck weeds in it, too. You gon’ hev to start a-eatin’ soon, you been down a plumb lowng tahm.”

With that, the Ganik produced a spoon and a metal bowl that emitted a fragrant steam. There was so much of importance that Corbett knew it was necessary he obtain from Johnny and Gumpner immediately, but no sooner did he take the last spoonful shoved at him than he found it impossible to hold open his eyelids.

When next he awakened, it was night. But there was a small fire smoldering in a stone-lined pit before his lean-to and old Johnny sat beside that fire, nodding. On the other side of the firepit lay Gumpner, rolled into a blanket and snoring softly. A small kettle sat on a flat rock beside the fire, but it did not just then interest Corbett. He had come awake harboring a raging thirst, and the sole object of his mind was the bulging waterskin hanging from the Y-notched upright above his head. He was straining upward to reach it when old Johnny abruptly awakened from his snoozing.

“Jes’ hol’ awn ther, Majuh, git back down awn them blankets. You heanh me? I’ll gitchew sum wawtuh.”

Weak as he felt, Corbett did not think he could have reached the skin anyway. And if he had, he knew full well that he could never have lifted it down. Once he had drunk his fill of the icy fluid, he tried hard to recall those questions he needed answered, but before he could remember them, he had again fallen asleep.

It was a morning three days later that he finally got the story from old Johnny.

Sometime after midday the second day out of camp, the mule on which Braun had been riding threw a shoe, so they had perforce halted, lifted the scientist out of his saddle and begun transferring his gear to one of the spare mules. With the spare mule saddled and Braun back in that saddle, one of the other spares had elected to pull loose and head back north, up the track. Cursing, Homer had spurred in pursuit of the runaway, since Cabell was still dismounted and engaged in tying Braun back into the saddle, while old Johnny, too, was dismounted and relieving himself against a trackside tree.

The sergeant had just remarked that they had made very good time and that another day or less should see them quite near to Broomtown when Braun began another of his frequent attempts to persuade or overawe Cabell into giving him an injection.

But the noncom, heeding the instructions of Corbett, just shook his head, doggedly. “No, Dr. Braun, I’m sorry, but Major Corbett said that…”

“You’ve told me more times than I can remember what that strutting jackass said,” Braun had shouted, his face purple with his rage at being again denied the soothing narcotic. “Who do you think he is, anyway, you aboriginal ape? What do you think he is? He’s nothing but a goddam ignorant professional soldier, with no more medical or scientific credentials than you or that fucking primitive over there have. I’ve forgotten more than he’ll ever know, and I know that if I don’t get another shot soon I—this body—will go into shock and die before I can transfer to a new, whole healthy one. He also ordered you to get me back alive, sergeant, so give me a goddam injection . Right now, damn you!”

“Dr. Braun,” said Cabell in tired exasperation, “there are only two shots left. You’ve got to get some sleep tonight, so there goes one. You can bet that the pain is going to be worse in the morning than it is now, so I think…”

“Think?” shrieked Braun wildly, his voice cracking in his raging tantrum. “You don’t know how to think. But I do, and I think you’re trying to kill me with the pain. Corbett gave you secret orders, didn’t he? He told you to get me out here where none of the others could see what happened to me and let me die of either pain or infection, didn’t he? Didn’t he !”

Old Johnny had remounted during the “conversation.” He did not like the despicable man who was alternately either whining and blubbering like a child or blustering and name-calling and bragging about how important he was and how much learning he had, so he had not really been listening to it. After all, this sort of thing had been going on almost from the moment they had ridden out of the camp.

The sergeant replied as calmly and patiently as he could to the accusing question. “No, Dr. Braun, you your own self heard all of the orders that the Major gave me concerning you, the other morning just before we left.”

“Liar!” Braun hissed. “Don’t you Broomtown apes know by now that you can’t successfully lie to Center scientists? We can see right through your pitiful little fabrications. So admit it, admit that Corbett ordered you to kill me or at least let me die. It will go much easier for you back in Broomtown if you tell me the truth now.”

“Doctor,” said Cabell brusquely, “for a man as educated as you say you are, you sure have a tough time understanding plain English. Here we go one more time, then we’re pushing on. Homer can just catch up best he can.

“All right, now. No, Doctor, Major Corbett gave me no orders to kill you or let you die. And, no, you are not getting any more injections until we stop for the night. Is that plain enough for you, Mr. Valuable Scientist Dr. Braun?”

Braun spluttered, so angry that he could find no words for a moment. Then, “That… that’s rank insubordination . You won’t get away… damn you, you’ll regret having so spoken to a ranking member of the Board of Science.”