Paul Theroux - O-Zone

"The aliens I saw were over there," Fisher said, pointing beyond the meadow. "There's a narrow hollow—"

"I'm not getting caught in those woods," Murdick said. "I'd never have a clear shot."

"What kind of film did you load?"

Murdick didn't turn. "Very fast," he said.

They debated moving closer to the hollow — if there was a hollow. Hooper said they should try to get a sound bite— their wires were sensitive enough to pick up even distant voices.

Fisher said, "What's the range of your mike?" and reached. "That doesn't look like a mike."

"Keep your hands off," Murdick said, and snatched the thing away.

Holding a small trumpet-shaped object, Hooper crept out of the basket of trees and aimed the bell-mouth at the far end of the meadow. He moved it again, then shook his head.

"It picks up every breeze and every bird," he said. "All I can hear clearly are bobwhites. We'll have to shift."

Murdick said, "Never" — he would not move on any account, and he sat surrounded by the telescopes and cameras and the two energy cubes they had brought from the rotor. His small face was pinched in his mask, and he made himself even smaller, putting his knees together and holding his gloves against his earphones like a frightened child. The fact that his gloves were broad and pawlike made him seem even more childish.

"So what good is all your hardware now?"

Fisher's voice was mocking. It made him almost serene to see the terrified little man.

"It's the wrong terrain," Murdick said, and he moaned because the young boy was standing over him.

"He means the wrong planet."

Hooper said, "I wish I knew what we were looking for."

"It's stupid to look for aliens right away-they're too dumb and slow," Fisher said. "We should look for animals. I mean, real ones. I saw deer and foxes on the tape. Animals would give off better signals — we'd pick them up more easily — and animals would distract the aliens. Then, instead of us trailing the aliens, they wouid be trailing the animals— chasing food, see — and we could hang back and tape the whole show."

Hooper turned completely around, so that his faceplate was level with Fisher's, and he was smiling through it at the frowning boy. It was a good plan, he said. But Murdick looked rueful and stubborn; it was such a good plan it gave him no excuses.

Hooper saidt "Yeah. Let's pinpoint some animals. You coming, Willis?"

"He wants to sit on his hardware."

But hearing that, Murdick struggled to his feet.

They broke cover, laden with hardware, sloping forward and keeping their heads down. Hooper whispered for them to watch for smoke or any movement. They crept to the top edge of the meadow and walked just inside the woods, in the crackle of dead curled leaves.

"That's deadly soup," Murdick said as they passed a bowl-shaped mudhole. "It's all cancer here. We shouldn't have come."

They moved irregularly in single file, Murdick and Fisher jostling for second place behind Hooper. For Fisher it was dreamlike, and his feet hardly seemed to strike the ground; Murdick's gabbling fear made him giddy and gave him an illusion of courage.

"Their brains might be growing out of their heads," Murdick said. They reached a corner of the field. Hooper said, "If you see anyone, freeze. If he sees you, hold your ground. Don't run, whatever you do, or you'll get eaten."

When they moved off again, Hooper thought of the injustice of having to sneak around here. This was O-Zone! Empty, poisoned, prohibited O-Zone! They deserved to have the freedom of the place — it belonged to them! Its perimeter and commando guards and all its security were paid for with Federal taxes. Aliens didn't pay taxes — they had no legal existence. Hooper felt a mingled annoyance and respect; he was a hunter whose quarry had so far eluded him, and still moving blindly, he sensed in a sort of prickling psychic way that the creatures he hunted were watching him the whole time.

Murdick was studying Hooper's eyes. Hooper looked back, his reverie broken, and saw that Murdick too seemed to be watched by aliens.

"I don't like this," Murdick said.

"And you're in Godseye, Willis?"

"We hunt in packs, we don't take crazy risks, we have air cover." Murdick was being candid — he had been terrified into telling the truth. "We've got bigger irons, we've got real firepower, we stay off the ground."

Fisher was listening to both men and staring at the sleeved pipes they held across their knees.

"Hey, are those irons or cameras?"

Murdick's eyes were red and squinting. Hooper looked away and said, "I see something."

Putting his pipe to his eye, Murdick said, "It's a dog."

"It's a deer," Hooper said, also spying with his pipe. "A white-tailed doe. Look how skinny she is. There she goes."

The animal had a muddy belly and muddy shins and it kicked its hind legs as it ducked into the woods.

At that moment the men emerged — no helmets, no masks. Their bare faces gave them a look of power. They were carrying something coiled. They made no sound at all. When they paused they were like dogwoods, and when they moved they turned back into men.

"Are they mutants?"

The deer was slightly lame and favoring one leg. It was moving and listening, very alert, but it had not sensed anything yet. It was shambling and browsing, leading the aliens on — two of them but it seemed like three, the way they moved, appearing and disappearing. They were gone. Had they ever been there?

Pausing near some wrecked trees, the deer lowered its head to the grass and in the same movement raised it — swung its body round, twitched its ears and tail.

"It saw us," Fisher said.

Hooper said, "Not us," and lifted his black pipe.

The deer was looking away from them, its ears alert and stiff, its hooves planted firmly in the turf. It held its rump high, in anticipation. Then a shudder in its haunches ran a shiver through its stringy leg muscles, and it rocked backward and bounded lopsidedly through the trees, the way it had come.

A man had sprung up behind it, and then the other reappeared, and both gave chase. They were small and ordinary, and their plainness was the most astonishing thing about them. They were real, they were more frightening than monsters. They wore thick vests and heavily patched trousers, and their hair was braided and tied back. They looked like woodsmen — bearded and green — and they were very fast. Aliens. They were gone now.

"It's two of the males — B and D," Fisher said.

"You recognize them!" Hooper stopped shooting with the thick black pipe.

Murdick said, "They were carrying ropes."

"Nets," Fisher said. "They keep them coiled. They can't throw them in there — they'd snag on the trees. They're probably driving that deer into a hole."

It was a hurried conversation. They started after them and saw more aliens gathering ahead and joining the running men — another man, a youth — girl or boy, they could not tell. They went after the slowly dancing deer.

Shadowing them were the three unearthly figures in suits and masks and domed helmets.

"Let's stay together," Murdick said in a terror-struck groan.

The aliens were yelling. It was not fierce — it was a wild kind of laughter interspersed with chatter. More aliens had appeared and vanished: they were uncountable, and were the more alarming for that. They were nimble and fast, and when they spoke they did not seem out of breath.

There was a power in the aliens' confidence, Hooper thought, and it was clear from the way they moved in the woods that they lived here. They neither stumbled nor hesitated as Hooper loped after them, trying to steady his camera. Fisher kept up with him, but it was not bravery; he was afraid to be left behind.

The deer was running back to the meadow, now trying to elude the two men who had confused it by separating themselves from a pair of hackberry trees. As they ran they loosened their lines and shook out the folds in their nets.