Hugh Howey - Half Way Home

The hysterics from the girls continued as a second creature came out after the first, its head almost touching the other’s rear.

“Come on!” Kelvin yelled at me. He pulled on the rope, steering the first creature away from the tree and across the moss. I ran after him but kept my distance.

“What the hell are those?” I asked.

“We call ’em vinnies,” Kelvin said. “In honor of Vincent, who nearly jumped to his death when he discovered them. Or, rather, when they discovered him .”

I backed away from the thing as Kelvin swung it my way, bringing its face into view. The stiff hairs ended a foot from the tip, the brown and black follicles leading to a light green head with two large, moist, charcoal eyes. A stick extended out from the thing’s back, tied there by loops of rope.

“Their faces are kinda cute,” I said.

“They look like giant Earth caterpillars,” Kelvin told me. “Nearest thing I know of, anyway.”

“I don’t know what those look like, so I’ll take your word for it. I immediately thought ‘snake’ when it came out.”

Kelvin laughed. “Yeah, I suppose not many people have phobias of caterpillars.”

“What’s the stick for?” I asked.

“Propulsion. They eat these leaf-like chips from the tree. We hung one ahead of it to get it started down. Must’ve fallen off.”

“I let him eat it once we got to the bottom,” Vincent said. He ran up to help Kelvin steer the creature. “Figured he deserved it.” I looked back at the tree and saw a third vinnie had exited the tunnel, the nose of the fourth right behind.

“How many did you guys bring down?”

“Seven, if they all stayed together.”

“Why?” I asked. “What’re we gonna do with them?”

Kelvin and Vincent both looked up at me as they continued to guide the lead vinnie.

“Are you kidding?” Jorge asked, walking up behind me. I turned and saw him slapping his hand with the side of his machete.

“We’re gonna eat them.”

Jorge and Karl led one of the vinnies aside. The remaining six marched in a circle, the lead vinnie having been guided around until his nose met the last one’s rump. The entire column writhed, their brown and black thistles waving over and over down the length of each body. I was as hungry as the rest, but for some reason I didn’t like the idea of eating something alive. I could find nothing in my training so different from the other colonists to justify my lone revolt, but nobody else seemed to be bothered by the idea.

I tried talking to Kelvin about it, but Jorge and Karl began mocking me, and I could see confusion on Kelvin’s face as well. After being called a “sissy” several times, I gave up my protests. Jorge guided the chosen creature away, patting it on the rump with his machete as he walked beside it. I grabbed the other blade and went back to chopping wood, which allowed me to keep my back turned to the ordeal.

My eyes may have been averted, but nothing shielded me from the cries of the animal as it was slaughtered.

I froze, and over the shrieking and squeals—eerily humanlike—I heard some of the others in our group expressing their own disgust. Several of the boys began yelling at Jorge to finish the job and I heard him yell, “I’m trying!”

Someone—I didn’t see who—ran over and snatched my machete out of my hand and presumably used it to help out.

I cupped my hands over my ears and knelt in the moss wondering—and not for the first time—what was wrong with me. Why I felt like throwing up.

Tarsi came over and joined me; she wrapped an arm around my waist as we both knelt amid the scattered chips and splinters of wood. She held me until the sounds stopped, stroking my head and kissing my cheek.

Much of my initial shock came from pity for the poor animal—as frightening as the thing had seemed to me mere moments before. But it was my own shame at having such a strong reaction that left me suddenly feeling as if I weren’t a part of the group.

Later, while the smell of the animal roasting over the fire drifted around our camp, I moved to a low spot in the tree’s tunnel and ate raw bombfruit, feeling as sorry for myself as I did the dead vinnie.

“You sure you don’t want some?” Kelvin asked when he came over to check on me.

“I’m positive,” I said, thankful he was considerate enough to not come bearing a portion of the animal on a stick.

“You want to talk about it?”

I laughed at him and scooted over, leaving room in the tunnel for him to sit and swing his legs. “That’s my line,” I said.

Kelvin grunted. “Maybe we’re the ones that’re messed up.” He nodded back toward the campfire.

I didn’t accept his diagnosis, but it did make me feel better. I had a sudden impulse to rest my head on his shoulder, to let his strength prop me up similar to the way Tarsi often sank into mine. But I restrained myself.

“You and Tarsi have fun while we were gone?” he asked.

I looked over at him and saw his jaw muscles flexing as he clenched and unclenched it over and over. “Look, Kelvin—”

He reached his arm around me and squeezed my shoulder. “Hey, it’s no big deal. It should be her choice, right?”

“No, listen to me—”

“I’m serious, Porter, it’s fine. I’d rather her choose you than half these other guys.”

“Only half?” I asked, smirking at him.

“Well, Karl is quite a bit better looking than you—”

I punched his knee. “Seriously, though, I need to tell you something. I’m—it’s stuff I’m just sorting out on my own. I don’t even know how to say it without freaking you out—”

“Hey,” he said, standing up and backing away, his hands held high. “I’m cool with you guys being together, but I don’t wanna hear specifics, okay? And I don’t know enough to give you advice, anyway.”

“No, listen—”

But it was too late. Not just because Kelvin had backed toward the campfire, but because I could feel the impulse to spill my guts had passed.

Besides, there’d been quite enough of that for one day.

Even as I abstained from the meat, I had to admit the smell was oddly intoxicating. My mouth watered at the odor of the roasting flesh, even as my brain rejected the idea of eating something dead. It was as if I’d skipped another training program. All I’d been prepared to eat was cultivated crops and protein mixes, but the other boys seemed to know without learning it that moving things were to be chopped up and cooked. And they also seemed to understand the best methods for doing both.

I finally rejoined the group as they finished eating, wary of ostracizing myself any further. Jorge made one probing jab at my manhood, but a look from Kelvin put a quick end to that. The other boys burped contentedly while the vinnies marched in a circle and my stomach continued to growl.

Eventually, we began considering our options aloud.

“Well, we certainly won’t starve to death,” Karl pointed out. “As long as the rains are steady, we’ll be better off than those inside.”

“The goal has to be more than that,” I pointed out. When everyone turned to me, I clarified: “Beyond just not starving.”

“You mean long-term,” Britny said. “Like I was saying the other day.”

“Exactly. I mean building things. And finding a regular source of water, something to irrigate with.”

“We discussed that on the way down,” Kelvin said. “Vincent was thinking we could hack away some of the canopy up top and rig up tarps to the tunnel. Most of the rain doesn’t even make it to the bottom. It’s all puddled up there on top. We could create a massive flow of it down here, like a river spiraling down.”