Sos the Rope

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Up muscles. It's better if you walk around, get the system functioning again and all that."

Sos recovered unwillingly. He tried to open his eyes, but the darkness remained.

"Uh-uh! Leave that bandage alone. Even if you aren't snowblind, you're frostbit. Here, take my hand." A firm man's hand thrust itself against his arm.

"Did I die?" Sos asked, bracing against the proffered palm as he stood.

"Yes. In a manner of speaking. You will never be seen on the surface again."

"And-Stupid?"

"What?"

"My bird, Stupid. Did he come here too?"

The man paused. "Either there's a misunderstanding, you are insolent as hell."

Sos constricted his fingers on the man's arm, bringing a exclamation of pain. He caught at the bandage on his head with his free hand and ripped it off. There was bright pain as packed gauze came away from his eyeballs, but he could see again.

He was in a hostel room, standing before a standar bunk surrounded by unstandard equipment. He wore his pantaloons but nothing else. A thin man in an effeminat white smock winced with the continuing pressure of his grip. Sos released him, looking for the exit.

Not a hostel room, for this room was square. The standard furnishings had given him the impression. He had never seen a cabin this-shape, however.

"I must say, that's an unusual recovery!" the man remarked, rubbing his arm. He was of middle age with sparse hair and pale features: obviously long parted from sun and circle.

"Are you a crazy?"

"Most people in your situation are content to inquire 'Where am I?' or something mundane like that. You're certainly original."

"I did not come to the mountain to be mocked," Sos said, advancing on him.

The man touched a button in the wall. "We have a live one," he said.

"So I see," a feminine voice replied from nowhere. An intetcom, Sos realized. So they were crazies. "Put him in the rec room. I'll handle it."

The man touched a second button. A door slid open beside him. "Straight to the end. All your questions will be answered."

Sos rushed by him, more anxious to find the way out than to question an uncooperative stranger. But the hail did not lead out; it continued interminably, closed doors on either side. This was certainly no hostel, nor was it a building like the school run by the crazies. It was too big.

He tried a door, finding it locked. He thought about breaking it down, but was afraid that would take too much time. He had a headache, his muscles were stiff and flaccid at once, his stomach queasy. He felt quite sick, physically, and just wanted to get out before any more annoying strangers came along.

The end door was open. He stepped into a very large room filled with angular structures: horizontal bars, vertical rods, enormous boxes seemingly formed of staffs tied together at right angles. He had no idea what it all signified and was too dizzy and ill to care.

A light hand fell across his arm, making him jump. He grabbed for his rope and whirled to face the enemy.

The rope was gone, of course, and the one who touched him was a girl. Her head did not even reach to his shoulder.

She wore a baggy coverall, and her hair was bound in a close-fitting headcap, making her look boyish. Her tiny feet were bare.

Sos relaxed, embarrassed, though his head still throbbed and the place still disturbed him by its confinement. He had never been this tense before, yet inadequate. If only he could get out into the open forest.

"Let me have this," the little girl said. Her feather-gentle fingers slid across his forearm and fastened upon the bracelet. In a moment she had it off.

He grabbed for it angrily, but she eluded him. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

She fitted the golden clasp over her own wrist and squeezed it snug. "Very nice. I always wanted one of these," she said pertly. She lifted a pixie eyebrow at him. "What's your name?"

"Sos the-Sos," he said, remembering his defeat in the circle and considering himself, therefore, weaponless. He reached for her again, but she danced nimbly away. "I did not give that to you!"

"Take it back, then," she said, holding out her wrist. Her arm was slender but aesthetically rounded, and he wondered just how young she was. Certainly not old enough to be playing such games-with a grown man.

Once more he reached.. . and grasped air. "Girl, you anger me."

"If you are as slow to anger as you are to move, I have nothing to worry about, monster."

This time he leaped for her, slow neither to anger nor to motion-and missed her again.

"Come on, baby," she cooed, wriggling her upraised wrist so that the metal band glittered enticingly. "You don't like being mocked, you say, so don't let a woman get away with anything. Catch me."

He saw that she wanted him to chase her, and knew that he should not oblige; but the pain in his head and body cut short his caution and substituted naked fury. He ran after her.

She skipped fleetly beside the wail, looking back at him and giggling. She was so small and light that agility was natural to her; her body could not have weighed more than a hundred pounds including the shapeless garment. As he gained on her, she dodged to the side and swung around a vertical bar, making him stumble cumbersàmely. -

"Lucky you aren't in the circle!" she trilled. "You can't even keep your feet!"

By the time he got on her trail once more, she was in among the poles, weaving around them with a facility obviously stemming from long experience.

Sos followed, grasping the uprights and swinging his body past them with increasing dexterity. Now that he was exerting himself he felt better, as though he were throwing off the lethargy of the freezing mountains. Again he gained and again she surprised him.

She leaped into the air and caught the bottom rung of a ladder suspended from the high ceiling. She flipped athletically and hooked it with her feet, then ascended as though she had no weight at all. In moments she was far out of reach.

Sos took hold of the lowest rung, just within his range, and discovered that it was made of flexible plastic, as were the two vertical columns. He jerked experimentally.

A ripple ran up the ropes, jarring the girl. Ropes? He smiled and shook harder, forcing her to cling tightly in order not to be shaken off. Then, certain he had her trapped, he gradually hauled down until his entire weight was suspended.

It would hold him. He hoisted himself to the rung, unused to this type of exercise but able to adapt. He could handle a rope.

She peeked down, alarmed, but he climbed steadily, watching her. In a few seconds he knew he would be able to grab her foot and haul her down with him.

She threaded her legs through the top of the ladder and leaned out upside down, twisting her body and touching it with her freed hands. The coverall came away from her shoulders and to her hips-up or down, depending upon perspective-then she caught one arm in the ladder and stripped herself the rest of the way. She wore a slight, snug two-piece suit underneath that decorated little more than her bosom and buttocks. Sos revised his estimate of her age sharply upward; she was as well rounded a woman as he had seen.

She contemplated him with that elfin expression, spread out the coveralls, and dropped them neatly upon his raised face. -

He cursed and pawed it away, almost losing his grip on the ladder. She was shaking it now, perhaps in belief she could dislodge him while he was blinded, and he felt her strike his clutching hand.

By the time he had secured his position and cast off the clinging, faintly scented cloth, she was standing on the floor below him, giggling merrily. She had gone right by him!

"Don't you want your bracelet, clumsy?" she teased.

Sos handed himself down and dropped to the floor, but she was gone again. This time she mounted the boxlike structure, wriggling over and under the bars as though she were a flying snake. He ran to the base, but she was amidst it all and he could not get at her from any direction without climbing into it himself. He knew by this time that he could never catch her that way; she was a gymnast whose size and weight made her entirely at home here.

"All right," he said, disgruntled but no longer angry. He took the time to admire her lithe and healthy body.

Who would have suspected such rondure in so brief a package? "Keep it,"

A moment and several gyrations and she stood beside him. "Give up!"

He snapped his fingers over her upper arm, using the trick of his rope throw to make the motion too quick to elide. "No." -

She did not even wince at the cruel pressure. She sliced her free hand sidewise into his stomach, just below the rib cage and angling up, fingers flat and stiff.

He was astonished at the force of the blow, coming as it did with so little warning, and he was momentarily paralyzed. Still, he maintained his grip and tightened it until her firm young flesh was crushed against the bone. -

Even so, she did not shrink or exclaim. She struck him again with that peculiar flat of the hand, this time across the throat. Incredible agony blossomed there. His stomach drove its content up into his mouth and he could not even catch his breath or cry out. He let go, gagging and choking.

When he became aware of his surroundings again he was sitting on the floor and she was kneeling astride his legs and resting her hands upon his shoulders. "I'm sorry I did that, Sos. But you are very strong."

He stared dully at her, realizing that she was somewhat more talented than he had guessed. She was a woman, but her blows had been sure.

"I really would like to keep your bracelet, Sos. I know what it means."

He thought about the way Sol had given his bracelet to Sola. The initial carelessness of the act had not signified any corresponding laxity in the relationship, though its terms were strange. Was he now to present his own bracelet even more capriciously, simply because a woman asked for it? He tried to speak, but his larynx, still constricted from the knock, did not permit it.

She held out her wrist to him and did not retreat. He reached up slowly and circled it with his fingers. He remembered that he had fought for Sola and lost, while this woman had, in more than a manner of speaking challenged him for the bracelet and won.

Perhaps it had to be taken from him. Had he been ready to give it away, he should have given it to blonde Miss Smith, knowing that she wanted it. Sola, too, had forced her love upon him and made him respond. He did not like what this,seemed to indicate about his nature, but it was better to accept it than to try to deny it.

He squeezed the bracelet gently and dropped his hand.

"Thank you, Sos," she murmured, and leaned over to kiss him on the neck.