Гарри Гаррисон - Planet Of No Return

The darkness had drained from the sky, and it was grey dawn before any measure of rational consciousness returned. He became aware of Lea’s voice calling to him as he fought to open his crusted eyes. His arms and legs were immobilized somehow; he blinked until the blurs resolved themselves. Leather thongs secured his ankles and wrists to a long pole; they were tied in place with strips of rawhide. His right hand was soaked with blood, throbbing with pain. He stretched it out so he could look at it and grunted with annoyance. Lea’s whispered words were hoarse with worry.

“Are you alive? Can you hear me? Brion, please, can you hear me? Can you move?”

An inadvertent gasp of pain escaped his lips as he fought to move his head. His skull was bruised all over and one eye would not open all the way. The good one cleared enough so that he could make out Lea lying a few feet from him, bound as securely as he was to a second pole. At first he could only cough when he tried to talk, but he managed to force out the words.

“I’m all … right … fine.”

“Fine!” There were tears in her voice, behind the anger. “You look absolutely terrible, all kicked about and bloody. If your head wasn’t solid bone you would be dead by now … oh, Brion. It was terrible. They slung us from poles like corpses. Carried us all night. I was sure they had murdered you.”

He tried to smile but could only grimace. “The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.” He moved his arms and legs as best he could against the restraints. “I feel bruised — but I don’t think anything is broken. What about you?”

“Nothing important, a few scratches. You were the one they were hammering on. It was vicious, cruel …”

“Don’t think about it now. We’re alive and that is really all that counts for the moment. Now tell me everything that you saw on the way here.”

“Little enough. We’re in the hills somewhere. In a clearing in front of what appears to be some kind of natural caves in a cliff. There are tall trees all around the clearing. The women went into the cave when we arrived, they’re still there. But the men are sleeping all around us.”

“How many? Any of them awake or on guard?”

“I can count eighteen… no… nineteen… twenty of them. I think that’s all there are. If there’s a guard posted I can’t see him. Every once in awhile one of them will wake up and go off into the woods, their version of sanitary facilities I imagine.”

“Sounds good. Just as indisciplined as I imagined. Right now is the best chance to get away, while they are asleep, before they do anything worse to us.”

“Get away!” She shook her tightly bound wrists in his direction. “You’ve been hit on the head once too often. They’ve taken that big knife of yours, we can’t reach these thongs with our teeth. So how do we do it?”

“I’ll be just a moment,” he said calmly. He closed his eyes and began taking deep and regular breaths.

It was important to order his thoughts, to concentrate all of his attention and energies. He had used these same breathing exercises when he was weight lifting; this effort now would be about the same. His body relaxed and he became aware of the myriad cuts and bruises. They were not important; as he narrowed his concentration they faded, unsensed. Good. Now he could feel his strength being focused, channelled. His eyes opened slowly and he looked down at the thick rawhide bindings about his wrists. The muscles in his arms and shoulders tensed.

Lea stared in astonishment. She saw him go limp, his muscles so under his command that even the flesh on his face grew slack. When his eyes opened they had a distant look, staring almost unseeingly at his wrists. A ripple of motion passed through his upper body and she could see his biceps swell as they tensed, pushing against his torn sleeves, widening the openings so that the weakened fabric tore and split. The rawhide bindings took the strain, creaking as they stretched, further and further. It was almost inhuman. His face remained calm while his arms moved slowly apart with slow, machine-like precision.

There was a small snapping sound as one of the bindings parted, then another. His hands were free.

Only when Brion realized this and relaxed did the shudder of fatigue run through his body. He dropped back to the ground, eyes shut and breathing hoarsely, rubbing his fingers over the deep welts in his wrists; coming away bloody where the flesh had been sliced to the bone by the rawhide. This lasted only a moment as he fought to regain control. Then he raised his head slowly and looked around.

“Very good,” he said quietly. “As you said, all of them asleep.”

With snake-like motions he slid over the hard-packed ground to her side, dragging with him the pole that was still attached to his ankles. He examined Lea’s bindings.

“If you try to tear these off you’ll tear my wrists off along with them,” she said, trying not to look at the slow coursing of blood down his hands.

“Don’t worry, yours will be a lot easier than mine.” He bent forward and closed his teeth on the lizard skin bindings. Clamping down and chewing strongly. They parted in less than a minute. “Tastes terrible,” he said, spitting out some fragments.

“You must have had a good dentist.” There was a quaver behind the forced lightness of her words. He reached up and brushed a matted hank of hair from before her eyes.

“We’ll be out of this soon, take my word for that. Just lie quiet for a moment more.”

He was not as relaxed as he pretended to be. It was full daylight now and their movements could easily be seen by anyone who might be stirring. The next few minutes were vital. If they reached the trees before the alarm was given he knew they could get away. Bruised or not he would run — and they would not be captured a second time. He separated the strands of rawhide that bound his ankles, then inserted the index finger of his left hand under the thinnest of them. It broke easily. He snapped the rest, a single strand at a time, then stripped away the fragments and slowly sat up. His captors were still all asleep. He tore Lea’s ankles free from the pole in the same way.

“Here we go,” he whispered, scooping her up in his arms and rising, walking carefully among the silent bodies. Quickly and silently, waiting for the alarm to be raised, but still hearing nothing. Six, seven — eight paces and they were among the trees and pushing through the shrubbery.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” he said, placing her gently on the ground. His finger on her lips silenced her shocked response. Then he was gone, back into the clearing, and she did not know whether to laugh or to cry.

It was laughter. She could barely contain her half-hysterical mirth when he reappeared carrying one of their captors. Simply escaping wasn’t enough for him — oh, no. He had to take a prisoner as well! The man struggled and kicked feebly, but to no avail. Brion had captured him silently by simply clutching the man’s mouth with one great hand, lifting him bodily from the ground at the same time. The man was half-suffocated now, his eyes bulging from his reddened face. When Brion released his grip the prisoner sucked air into his lungs with a single shuddering gasp. Before he could release the breath and shout, a hard fist caught him below the ear and he slumped unconscious to the ground.

Brion ignored him as he dropped, turning instead to Lea and helping her to her feet.

“Can you walk all right?” he asked.

“Stagger is more like it.”

“Do your best. I’ll help you if you need it.”

He slung the captive over his shoulder with an easy motion, then took Lea by the arm and led the way through the trees and down the hillside. Getting farther and farther from the encampment with each passing moment.