In the Empire of Shadow

Chapter Nine

Something rustled in the dark leaves overhead; Pel started and looked up.

“Probably just a squirrel,” Wilkins said somewhere behind Pel; he looked upward, as well.

Pel turned at the comment, and realized that Sawyer had his blaster drawn-for all the good that would do him, here in Faerie.

Sawyer was next to Wilkins; Marks and Singer were a step ahead. The four Imperial soldiers had stayed close together, talking mostly with each other, as the group proceeded; Pel didn’t suppose he could blame them for that, for wanting to stay with their friends and compatriots while trapped in this alien reality. He had noticed, though, that they seemed to avoid Prossie Thorpe-wasn’t she an Imperial, too? Her uniform had been somewhat slashed up by Shadow’s hellbeasts, but she still had the proper purple blouse and slacks, and the insignia on her shoulder.

Of course, for himself, he avoided Ted, who was a fellow Earthman, but that was different. Ted was…well…damaged. Prossie wasn’t. And she was a woman, too; why would soldiers avoid a woman, especially one with those peek-a-boo tears in her blouse? It seemed out of character.

This stupid Imperial prejudice against telepathic “mutants” was probably responsible.

Pel glanced at Prossie; she seemed content to walk with Stoddard and Amy and Susan. Raven and Valadrakul had moved on a few paces ahead of the others; then came Ted, herded forward by Stoddard and the women. Pel, not inclined to talk just now, was close behind; he had taken off the remains of his borrowed T-shirt, since he hardly needed it in the warm, damp evening air of the forest, and wore only purple pants and black boots. The sweat was starting to dry on his back, though; what he would do when the air cooled further he didn’t know. And he thought he might be developing a blister on his right foot; the boots were a fairly good fit, but unfamiliar, and he wasn’t used to walking so much.

Behind him, the Imperial soldiers brought up the rear, still fully dressed, and wearing boots and helmets-except Sawyer, of course, who had lost his helmet. Pel wondered why they weren’t stinking of sweat.

Maybe they were, and he just didn’t smell it over the rich, heavy odors of the forest.

“What’re you planning to do with that?” Wilkins said, pointing to Sawyer’s blaster.

“Nothing,” Sawyer replied defensively, holstering the weapon. “Just habit.”

“You really think it was just a squirrel?” Marks said uneasily.

Wilkins shrugged. “Or a bird, or something.”

“It’s getting hard to see what’s up there,” Marks pointed out. “How do you know it wasn’t one of those black things?”

“Because if it was, it would have attacked us already,” Wilkins said.

No one had an answer to that; Pel turned away, and they all marched on.

A moment later, Wilkins stubbed his toe on a tree root hidden in fallen leaves, and swore quietly-though Pel doubted it had actually hurt, through the heavy boot the soldier wore.

“Hey, Raven,” Singer called.

Ahead, Pel saw Raven and Valadrakul stop and turn.

“It’s getting dark,” Singer called. “The sun’s been down a good half an hour, at least. When are we going to make camp for the night?”

“Yeah,” Amy said, loudly. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

That, Pel thought, was an understatement. They had gotten out of bed that morning in Base One; now they were in the forests of Faerie, Elani and Colonel Carson and a score of Shadow’s monsters were dead-and it had been a very long day literally, as well as figuratively, since they had departed Base One in late afternoon by the artificial local time, and arrived in Faerie around midday, going by the sun.

Amy added, “And we’ve been walking forever. My feet are killing me.”

Pel could sympathize with that. The Imperials were all soldiers, and presumably accustomed to marching, while the Faerie folk came from a world where human feet were still the primary form of transportation, but Pel and Amy, at least, weren’t in the habit of walking when they could drive. Pel wasn’t sure about Susan or Ted; they didn’t seem inclined to complain.

Susan never seemed inclined to complain about anything, of course, and if Ted had had anything to say about pain in his feet, or tired legs, he’d probably have attributed it all to twisted bedsheets or something else suited to his insistence that he was dreaming.

Raven looked at Valadrakul, who made a gesture with his hands that Pel couldn’t interpret.

“As you will, then,” Raven said. “’Tis true we’ve put a league and more behind us, but I’d thought to fare on until the night grew too deep. The darkness draws fast o’er us; perhaps ’tis best we stop.”

“Nay,” Valadrakul said. “Not yet. Shall we not find water ere we rest? There’s no sign of stream or brook here.”

“Oh,” Amy said.

“No water?” Ted asked, startling everyone. “More nightmare, I guess. Haven’t done thirst in awhile.”

Pel clenched a fist and wished he could reach Ted with a good punch on the nose.

“Oh, shut up,” Amy muttered wearily.

“Can’t the wizard get us water, somehow?” Sawyer called.

“Would that I could,” Valadrakul called back. “I can, perhaps, take game, that we might have our supper, but water is beyond my powers.”

“Maybe we better keep walking, then,” Susan said quietly.

“I can’t,” Amy protested. She dropped abruptly, to sit cross-legged on the ground. “I can’t go any farther.”

“As you will, then,” Raven said. “We’ll camp here.”

“What about the water?” Wilkins asked. “We crossed a stream a ways back.”

“We’ll not retrace our steps so far!” Raven said, shocked. “Surely, we’ll find water nearby, and can fetch it hither, if the women can go no more.”

Pel looked around as the others spoke, and found himself agreeing. There had to be water around here somewhere, didn’t there? Where did rainfall here go?

He looked at the slope of the land. “That way?” he said, pointing to the left, where the ground dropped off somewhat.

“Aye, of course,” Raven answered. “Wouldst join me, friend Pel?”

Pel just wanted to get off his feet, but he couldn’t let himself be seen as a whiner or shirker. “I don’t have anything to carry water in,” he replied.

“Then these others? An they’ve naught else, surely those helms they bear will hold water.”

Pel turned, and saw Wilkins shrug and remove his helmet. “If you want,” the Imperial said. “I’m in no hurry to wear the thing again, anyway, and it should be dry by morning.”

“I’ll get firewood,” Pel offered, feeling a bit guilty.

“A fine thought, friend Pel. And if the ladies would clear a space that the fire might be set…?”

“We will,” Susan said.

A thought struck Pel. “Valadrakul,” he said, “we saw something up in that tree a little while ago.” He pointed upward.

“Ah,” the wizard said, smiling. “And you think it might serve to feed us?”

Pel smiled back. “It might.”

Twenty minutes later, when Raven, Wilkins, Marks, and Singer returned with three helmetfuls of water, Stoddard was midway through skinning a fair-sized opossum, and Pel was tending the campfire Valadrakul had, by means of his magic, lit. Amy, Ted, and Susan had brushed away branches, leaves, and underbrush, and were sitting around the fire; Sawyer, bearing a good-sized tree limb, was standing guard, after helping gather wood.

“A fine sight to return to,” Raven remarked.

Pel eyed the half-skinned, slightly scorched opossum.

“Well,” he said, “it could certainly be worse.”

* * * *

Amy awoke shortly before sunrise, her back stiff from sleeping on the hard, dewy ground and her feet still sore from the long day’s hike; she felt chilled, and her stomach was churning. The overripe scent of decay was in her nostrils. She sat up slowly, then suddenly sprang to her feet-or tried to. She got as far as her knees before the remains of her share of the roast opossum came up.

She retched several more times after her stomach was emptied.

When at last she was able to stop heaving and straighten up, she found the rest of the party awake and staring at her in the dim predawn light.

“I never ate ’possum before, okay?” she said, glaring around at them.

No one answered; embarrassed, most of them turned away and set about getting themselves up, since there was obviously no point in going back to sleep.

Susan, however, took the three steps necessary to reach Amy’s side and knelt beside her.

“Are you all right, Amy?” she asked.

Amy nodded. “I’m okay. Really.”

“It’s just the food, you think?”

“What else could it be?” Amy asked, hopelessly. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve had anything decent to eat in months, now.” She laughed unhappily. “It’s hard to believe I’m looking back on that cheap pizza we ate at Pel’s house as the last good meal I had.”

“Some of the food hasn’t been bad, just different,” Susan said. “You’d get used to it.”

“I don’t want to get used to it,” Amy said. “I want to go home.”

“I know,” Susan said quietly. “Me, too.”

“Everything’s tasted weird. Even when I know what it is, and it’s something normal, like chicken, it’ll taste funny. The whole time we were in the Empire, everything tasted funny. And here in Faerie, what do I get to eat, after an entire day of running around being chased by monsters? Dirty water and one-twelfth of a possum. What kind of a meal is that?”

“An improvised one,” Susan said. “It’ll get better. When we get to civilization, or whatever passes for it here, we’ll have real food again.”

“If it doesn’t poison us,” Amy muttered.

“It won’t poison us,” Susan said. “We’re all human beings, even if we do come from three different worlds. Anything they can eat here, we can eat.” She smiled. “Did I ever tell you about when I first came to the U.S., and they gave me a cheeseburger? I’d never eaten cheese before, my mother called it rotten milk. I couldn’t imagine how anyone could eat that stuff. But I had to, if I wanted the beef it was on, so I peeled off what I could, and ate the rest, and then I waited to get sick from eating spoiled food. And nothing happened to me, of course.”

Amy gestured unhappily at the mess on the dead leaves. “I wasn’t so lucky,” she said.

“It’s probably just strain,” Susan said. “It’s rough on everybody, getting stranded here all over again, and worrying about Shadow sending more monsters after us. And you’d hardly even recovered from what happened on Zeta Leo III when they sent us here.”

At the mention of her enslavement Amy lost control again, and bent over, retching. She brought up a thin stream of clear fluid, nothing else.

Susan put a reassuring hand on her back, and with the other scrabbled in her purse and came up with a somewhat used tissue, which she offered.

Amy accepted the crumpled paper and wiped her mouth, then stared at the result distastefully.

“I’ve ruined your Kleenex,” she said. “And you probably don’t have any more.”

“I still have a couple of others,” Susan said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry, anyway,” Amy said. “And I’ve got to find the little girls’ bush.” She got to her feet. “Thanks, Susan,” she said.

“All part of the service,” Susan said, smiling. She, too, stood.

* * * *

As Amy ducked behind a tree in search of privacy, Susan noticed Prossie, standing quietly a few feet away, watching. The men were going about their own affairs-many of them undoubtedly doing the same thing Amy was, while others were fetching water or clearing away the campsite.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Prossie asked uncertainly.

Susan glanced after Amy, then shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said.

“I didn’t want to intrude,” Prossie explained, a little ashamed that she hadn’t done anything for their stricken companion.

“Oh, go ahead and intrude,” Susan said. “After all, there’s just the three of us with all these men.”

Prossie hesitated.

She wasn’t from the same universe as Susan and Amy. Besides, she was a telepath, a mutant, unfit for the company of normal humans. But right now Carrie wasn’t communicating, and this world of Faerie was so silent and strange with her telepathy cut off.

“Thanks,” she said.

* * * *

“No breakfast,” Pel remarked, as he splashed his face at the stream and wished the water was cleaner and warmer.

“Not unless you can spot us another ’possum or something,” Wilkins replied.

“I was hoping to see a fish or two, maybe, now that there’s better light,” Pel said.

Wilkins considered the stream, then shook his head. “Doesn’t look too likely,” he said.

“No,” Pel agreed. He shivered, and wished he still had a shirt.

“The sooner we get moving, the better,” Wilkins said, seeing Pel’s actions. “Let’s fill these helmets and get up there.” He was holding his own helmet as he spoke, and gestured toward the other with it.

Pel picked it up. “Whose is this?” he asked.

“Bill Marks’,” Wilkins answered. “Al keeps hold of his, and Sawyer’s is missing.”

“Right.” Pel scooped water from the stream, and together the two men headed back up the slope.

* * * *

The entire party was regrouped and moving by the time the sun was a hand’s breadth above the horizon.

“I’m hungry,” Ted said. “I wish I could wake up and get myself a snack.”

No one bothered to hush him this time; Sawyer remarked, “I’m hungry, too.”

“I don’t think I could keep anything down if we had it,” Amy said. Susan eyed her uneasily, but said nothing.

They walked on; Amy could hear someone’s stomach growling, while her own seemed to be tying itself in painful knots. She felt tired and ill.

Of course, she hadn’t felt good since Emerald Princess was captured by pirates. They’d starved their captives on the journey to Zeta Leo III, and then after the one meal there everyone had been hurried through the showers and put on the stage for auction, all nervous, even terrified. She’d been tired and scared, and Walter had bought her and taken her back to his farm, and then he’d raped her, and beaten her, and for all the weeks she lived with Walter and Beth she had been abused, over and over.

And then she’d been rescued, and flown to Base One aboard Emperor Edward VII, and she’d mostly recovered there, the bruises were healing, she was sleeping better, but she still felt tired all the time, still felt sour and irritable-and then, before she could get over it, they’d sent her off to Faerie.

She hoped it was just strain and fatigue.

But as she walked through the forests of Faerie she remembered poor little Alella, and Grummetty, the little people from Hrumph who didn’t like to be called gnomes, the little people who had died because their bodies didn’t work right in Imperial space.

What if her body didn’t work right in Faerie? What if she had been uncomfortable in the Empire as much because the nature of space itself was wrong, as anything else?

Susan had said, that morning, that they were all human beings, regardless of which universe they came from-but what if she was wrong, and they weren’t the same at all?

That was a terrifying idea. She hadn’t watched Grummetty and Alella fade away, she hadn’t had the nerve to face it, and had left all the nursing to Nancy Brown and little Rachel-she felt guilty about that now, especially since Nancy and Rachel were dead, and she also selfishly regretted that she didn’t know more about how it had worked. How could she tell if the same thing was happening to her?

None of the other Earthpeople seemed to be troubled by any such effect, though.

At least, not yet.

* * * *

“I wonder what Lieutenant Dibbs and his men have to eat,” Susan said, stepping neatly over a tree root that, a moment before, Ted had stubbed his toe on.

“There are supplies in the ship,” Prossie said. “Maybe we should have taken our share before we left.”

“We couldn’t get at them,” Singer pointed out. “That monster’s wing covered the door.”

“By now Dibbs probably has that thing propped up like a front porch,” Wilkins said. “They’ll be fine.”

“They’ve no water within a hundred yards or more,” Stoddard pointed out.

“There’s some water in the ship, too,” Sawyer said. “At least, I think there is.”

“They’ll be fine,” Wilkins repeated.

“Then why the hell are we here, instead of there?” Marks demanded.

Wilkins glared at him. “Oh, shut up,” he said.