Говард Уолдроп - Them Bones

‘They attacked the whole damn village four days ago,’ I reminded him.

‘That’s because they’re sneaky bastards. We’ve got plenty of warning this time. Sun Man’s madder than hell, probably got everybody east of the Mes-A-Sepa over on this side waiting for them to try it again.’ He started to sit up, then thought better of it. ‘It’s the next few hours we have to worry about.’

‘Great. It’s the next few hours I want to lie here,’ I said.

From far off came the barking of dogs.

We were up and running.

Nearly dusk. Anybody closer than a kilometer could here us breathing. Like freight train sounds. We’d seen one bunch of Huastecas going back the other way, either off shift on the chase, or with prisoners, or accompanying some noble. I didn’t have enough shots for all of them, so we kept going.

There were probably a couple of thousand of them between us and home.

As soon as it got dark, we stopped up another tree. It was by itself but was the only tree big enough to hold us both. The limbs weren’t wide. I didn’t like it. ‘I’ll listen first,’ said Took. ‘I’ll wake you up after a while.’

I closed my eyes. Next thing I knew, Took was shaking me. ‘Your turn,’ he said, and went to sleep.

I waited. I listened. I watched, although I couldn’t even see the tree we were in. The wind was cool. I shivered. It seemed like an eternity up there. I had no idea how much time passed. I tried counting, got up in the high thousands, forgot it. As soon as I started nodding, I woke Took up again.

‘I’m half asleep,’ I said. It sounded like he was rubbing his eyes. I lay back as well as I could on the limb.

I jerked awake at the same instant Took grabbed my arm.

The dogs were coming.

We ran into trees. I fell down. The dogs were louder, closer. The sun was coming up. We headed for more cypress swamps, ran through them. I grabbed a limb at the water’s edge once. It moved . I didn’t even look back as the snake fell into the water behind us.

Now we heard yelling to both sides, and a horn blowing. They were closing in on us.

Dry land, more water, then land again. We ran toward the dawn, pushed more to the north by the sound of the hunt.

‘They’re … trying … to … make us circle,’ said Took. ‘This way.’ He headed toward the sounds to the southeast. ‘I’d … rather meet men … than dogs.’

I didn’t want to meet either.

We came up onto a treed knoll, and we met both.

The Huastecas came up from behind bushes, throwing spears with their atl-atls and siccing the dogs on us. The spears were supposed to stop us so the dogs could bite out our assholes.

There were twenty dogs, all sizes, shapes, from ones that looked like Dobermans crossed with giant rats down to Chihuahuas. All I saw were eyes and teeth.

I started shooting, and Took and I slammed our backs against the nearest big tree. I was on my last full magazine. Took had the spear in front of him; he got a big dog in the chest with it. I shot one or two. They came in under my fire and something clamped onto my leg. I smashed at it with the butt of the carbine. It squealed and let go.

Arrows and spears grew out of the tree behind us. I shot the two biggest dogs. Then the magazine was empty.

The Huastecas jumped up and ran for us, spears out, calling off the dogs.

I pulled the pin out of a grenade, pushed Took down and threw it at the nearest Huasteca. I saw him smile and catch it as I hit the ground.

He was turned to a fine red mist by the explosion that tore up everything in the grove.

I slammed my last magazine with six rounds in it home, and stood.

One guy was still standing, holding what was left of his stomach with what was left of his hands, eyes blank. Dead Huastecas and dogs lay everywhere. Some wounded of both kinds twitched.

Dogs were barking, getting closer, from another direction.

‘Let’s go,’ I said. I looked at Took.

He looked back at me. Half a meter of spear shaft, broken by the explosion, stuck out from his chest just below the clavicle.

‘Oh, shit!’ I eased him up, rolled him. The spear didn’t go all the way through. There was no foam on the blood yet: not a sucking chest wound. I pulled the spear shaft out slowly, twisting just a little as it grated on bone. I jerked open my first aid packet from the web beneath the costume, slapped on antiseptic and stuffed the wound bandage into the edges of the hole.

‘Hold that,’ I said. He raised his hand and pressed on the dressing. His eyes were coming back to normal.

The dogs were louder.

‘Those guys,’ said Took, ‘must have had a canoe.’ Then he lapsed back into silence.

I jumped up, ran past the carnage. The Huasteca who was still standing walked out of the clearing, paying no attention to me or his wounds. He kept going.

Over where the next water started were three dugouts. I ran back to Took and helped him up. We made it to the canoe as the first of the dogs came past the dead men.

I was pushing out. Something hot and sharp stabbed into my calf. I screamed. Tiny growling sounds came up from my legs.

I grabbed my carbine, turning.

One of the Chihuahuas had me. Its teeth were like needles. I tried to kick it away. Bigger dogs were coming. The thing was back, clamped on again. It wouldn’t let go.

I used shot number one on the Chihuahua.

Number two on one of the big dogs.

Number three on a medium-sized one that bit the stern of the canoe and tried to drag it back to shore while I paddled.

Took was paddling with one hand, using the other to hold the bloody bandage.

We put out and made it a hundred meters into the bayou, dogs swimming in long V-wakes after us.

I used shot number four on the first Huasteca who got to the canoes. He fell dead. The rest of them stayed back in the brush until we got out of sight.

Otherwise it was a beautiful spring morning.

We were put up in an alligator run with the bushes closed behind us. It was past noon. I’d used the other dressing on Took’s shoulder an hour ago. It was already soaked through. He lay in the bow of the dugout.

Occasionally we heard canoes go by, the paddles dipping in unison.

‘I hate to tell you this,’ said Took, ‘but I don’t think this bayou leads to the River. I was here once when I was a kid, before the traders, even. Unless you can carry this dugout on your shoulders, we’re going to have to leave it a few hours’ march from here.’

‘At least we can use it that far,’ I said.

Took looked at me a long time. ‘What’s keeping you going?’ he asked.

‘Well, I don’t have a spear hole in my chest, for one thing. Your outlook will improve once you get a few days’ rest and some food in you,’ I said, with a cheerfulness I didn’t feel.

‘They’re going to get us,’ he said. ‘I have the feeling.’

‘Well, maybe. I’ve still got two grenades and two shots.’

‘One for you, one for me?’ he asked.

‘I won’t like it any more than you will,’ I said.

‘It’ll be better than the slab.’

‘I meant to ask you about that.’ A bird squawked and flew away. We waited. Nothing happened.

‘Your people seemed ready enough to die in the plaza. As soon as you saw me, you got your spunk back.’

‘When you’re heading for the slab, in the chief city of your enemies, you might as well go as befits a man or a woman. When your god comes to rescue you, you fight.’

‘But it was just me in the woodpecker outfit, you knew that.’

‘I knew that, and you knew that, said Took. ‘But the Woodpecker God also knew that.’

‘And he approved?’