Robert Silverberg - Those Who Watch

Two days passed that way.

The Fire Society dancers came and got Tomas Aguirre the big dope. They initiated him, and then they came for Mark Gachupin. Usually they chose only three new members each year. Charley wondered what he would do if they came for him. Go with them, and burst out laughing in the middle of the sacred rites? Or just turn and run? They would call upon him in his Indian name, Tsiwaiwonyi, the name he never used. Some of the older people tried to call everyone by Indian names, but Charley stuck to the Christian names. They’d say, “Tsiwaiwonyi, come with us to the kiva’, and he’d stand there gaping.

But of course they didn’t come for him. They didn’t want him. On the morning of the third day they picked Jose Galvan, and Charley knew he was safe for another year. Now he could go out to the desert and apologize to Mirtin and explain to him about the ceremony, and maybe even give him back the laser, because Charley was feeling very guilty about having taken it. He packed a bunch of tortillas, filled a canteen, and quietly left the village while no one was looking.

He was halfway to Mirtin’s cave before he realized that he was being followed.

First he heard a crackle of dry twigs behind him. That could be anything, from a jackrabbit heading for its nest to a bobcat looking for lunch. Charley stopped and turned, but he didn’t see anything unusual behind him. He was still suspicious, though. Another ten feet along, and he thought he heard a muffled cough. Jackrabbits didn’t cough. Charley spun around suddenly and saw the long, lean form of Marty Moquino about a dozen yards in back of him.

“Hi,” Marty said. He chucked out his cigarette and took a fresh one. “Where you going, Charley?”

“For a walk.”

“All by yourself in the middle of the winter?”

“None of your business what I’m doing,” Charley said. He tried to hide his panic. Why had Marty followed him from the pueblo? Did Marty know about the cave and its occupant? If he found out, all would be up for Mirtin. Marty would sell him to the Government, sure as anything. Or to the newspapers.

Marty Moquino said, “How about taking me where you’re heading?”

“I’m just going for a walk.”

“Yeah. And you just happen to go for a walk every night, too. I been watching you, kid. What’s out there, anyway?”

“N-nothing.”

“And what you got in that package you’re carrying? Let me have a look.”

Marty took a couple of steps forward. Charley grasped the wrapped tortillas tightly and backed away. “Leave me alone, Marty. I got no business with you.”

“I want to know what’s up.”

“Please, Marty—”

“You got a friend hiding out there? Maybe a prisoner got out of jail ,you taking care of him? Might be a reward for him, huh? And you just crazy enough to visit him instead. What’s the story, Charley?”

Charley quivered a little. Marty kept coming toward him, and Charley kept edging back, but that couldn’t continue for long. And if he ran, he’d never be able to outstrip Marty Moquino’s long legs. The only thing to do was to bluff.

“There ain’t no story,” Charley said stubbornly. “I don’t know what you’re after.”

A lean arm shot out. Strong fingers grasped the fleshy part of Charley’s arm. Marty Moquino towered above him, look* ing mean and ugly. He said, “I been watching you since that night you ran over me and Maria. When it gets dark, you take a canteen, you take a package of maybe food, and you go out onto the desert. So you got a friend out there, right? This time you gonna take me to him, or I gonna make you feel sorry you didn’t.”

“Marty—”

“Take me there.”

“Let-go—”

The fingers dug deep. Charley winced, twisted, managed to pull his arm free. He swung around and ran a dozen paces, then stopped. Marty Moquino came after him, naturally. But Charley pulled the laser out from its hiding place under his shirt and pointed it at Marty’s chest, just as though it were a gun.

“What the hell you got there?” Marty demanded.

“It’s a death ray,” Charley said. His voice shook so badly he could barely get the words out. “One squirt from this and it’ll burn a hole right through you. I mean it.”

Marty guffawed. “Now I know you’re crazy, kid!”

He didn’t move, though. Charley kept the laser aimed.

“Turn around and go back to the pueblo, Marty. Or I’ll fire. I’ll kill you. I honestly will.” Charley’s heart thundered. At the moment, he believed his own words. It would please him a great deal to kill Marty Moquino. With the laser, he could do such a thorough job that there would be no body left to find. He’d never get arrested for it.

Sneering, Marty said, “Put that stupid toy away.”

“It’s no toy. Want to see? Want me to burn your left hand off, for openers?”

Now Marty began to move. Charley saw his right leg come forward in the first step.

He activated the laser and swung it toward a big yucca. One quick jolt from the beam and the yucca vanished. The beam scooped out a crater a foot deep and a yard wide. Marty Moquino jumped back and made the sign of the cross.

“Toy, huh? ?Charley cried savagely. “Toy? I gonna cut your legs off! I gonna slice you in half!”

“What the hell-”

“Go on! Run!” Charley switched the laser on again and aimed it at the ground a couple of feet in front of Marty, so that the edge of the beam singed his boots a little. Marty didn’t stay for a further demonstration. His face turned green and he took to his heels in a hurry. Charley had never seen anyone run so fast. On, on he went, down the arroyo, up the other side, past the power substation, vanishing in the distance. Charley shouted curses at him as he disappeared.

Then he realized he was faint with tension. He sank down on his knees for a moment, until the shakes were over. He knew that he had come very close to killing Marty Moquino. If he had been just a little angrier, or a little more afraid, he could have tipped the angle of the beam up a few degrees and blasted Marty to atoms. Only at the last minute had Charley controlled himself, or he’d have a man’s death to his name now.

He rose and thrust the laser back out of sight. Biting his lip hard, he raced toward Mirtin’s cave. He wasn’t sure what would happen now, except that he had to warn Mirtin about this. Marty Moquino had fled in terror, but he might be back, might come snooping around. It wasn’t safe for Mirtin to stay here anymore. He’d have to go to another cave, or else get his friends to take him away. Otherwise, sure as anything, Marty Moquino would find out about him somehow and call the government boys.

Charley stumbled up out of the last arroyo and flung himself into Mirtin’s cave. Mirtin wasn’t there.

For the first dazed instant Charley thought that he must have come to the wrong cave. But there was only one cave like this in this cliff, he knew. And by the daylight creeping into the cave, he could see the strip he had carved out of the cave floor with the laser, the last time he’d been here. It was the right cave, but Mirtin was gone, along with everything that had been with him — his suit, his kit of tools. Everything. What had happened? Where was he? He couldn’t have gotten up and walked away; he wasn’t able to use his legs yet. So—

Charley saw the note lying on the cave floor. It was a piece of yellowish paper, small and square, and it did not have the feel of paper but rather of some plastic substance. On it were a few words, printed in a kind of loose scrawl, as though the person who had written them could not use his hand very well, or did not know much about how to print English words, or perhaps both. It said: