beyond its fence.
Hiyi grew there, along the row, all in leaf in this season, flowerless. He heard high voices, the closing of some door. "I'll get you," someone shrilled, but there was laughter in the voice. "I'll get you, Mon!"
51
Cuckoo's Egg
More shrieks. Thorn came closer, taking to the road. Beneath the lights, in front of the porch, two small figures ran and raced and played chase.
"Come in here!" a voice called from the open door. "Come in, it's time to eat."
They were children. They ran and shrieked and yelled—
Duun's kind. Thorn's heart stopped. He stood there in the road and looked beyond the fence and likewise the children stopped their game and stared, they on their side, he on his.
They were like Duun. Like him, in grayer, paler coats. With Duun-like ears, eyes, faces— with all that made up Duun.
"Aiiii!" one screamed. The other yelled. They hugged each other and yelled— to frighten him, he thought; he stood his ground, trembling at the sight. More of Duun's kind came out.
But children were like Duun. Children were not born hairless; he was not a child gone wrong, failed in growing—
—He was—
(Duun!)
He drew back. A man had run out onto the step. "Get in! Get inside!"
Thorn thought it meant him, and delayed. "Ili! Ili! Get the gun!"
(O gods! Guns! Duun!)
He spun on his heel and ran. He heard doors slam, more than once. Heard running come toward the fence, heard voices at his back. "Gods, it's him! "
one yelled, and others took it up. "It's that thing— that thing! "
It was a trap. Duun had made it. Duun had snared all his paths, all the world: there was no way, nothing, anywhere, that Duun had not seen and set up to trap him—
52
Cuckoo's Egg
(Got you, minnow, got you again—)
Thorn snatched breath and left the road, darted into the undergrowth, hearing the howl of animals at his back, hearing shouts raised— "The thing on the mountain! — It's him, it's come!"
(O gods , Duun— gods—) Breath split his side. Branches tore at him. He ran and something in him had broken, ached, swelled in his throat—
They hunted him. They all did. There was no help.
No quarter.
Leaves burst into flames near him. Beamer. He heard the whine of projectiles.
Splinters burst into his face. He flung his hands up, hit a tree or some such thing: impact numbed his arm and spun him. The ground came up. He felt twigs stab his hand, earth and leaves abrade the heel of it. He scrambled to turn over and get his knees, his legs under him, eyes pouring tears; the numbed arm flopped at his side. He heard more shots whine.
"There he is!"
He dived and dodged and stumbled to his knees again, aware of shock.
Once he had fallen from the rocks and been like this, numb from head to foot, and scared and breathless— had risen and walked and run again and known only later where he was, to find Duun gazing down at him from the high rocks.
To find Duun coming down to him, game abandoned, to take his face in his maimed hand, jaw pinched between thumb and forefinger, and look into his eyes—
"You hear me, little fish? You hear me?
Duun!
53
Cuckoo's Egg
Thorn slipped to one knee and got up again, turned, his shoulder to rough bark. There were lights, the howl of beasts, there were shapes behind the lights, people shining lights wildly this way and that into the brush, over him.
"Get it! There it goes!"
He put the tree between them and him and ran again, left arm swinging like a dead thing at his side. (I was hit. It was a shot that knocked me down. They shot me. Am I allowed to use my knife?) He ran and ran, sliding on the slopes, tearing himself on brambles. (Is this real? Is it game?
Duun— Did you set this up? Am I supposed to kill? Duun. I'm scared! ) He came down the slope, skidded at the bottom, spun on one foot and ran left along the streamcourse.
A shadow rose up in his path. He flung himself aside to escape it, but it was there, shonun-smelling, blocking the strike of his right arm,
Hiyi grew there, along the row, all in leaf in this season, flowerless. He heard high voices, the closing of some door. "I'll get you," someone shrilled, but there was laughter in the voice. "I'll get you, Mon!"
51
Cuckoo's Egg
More shrieks. Thorn came closer, taking to the road. Beneath the lights, in front of the porch, two small figures ran and raced and played chase.
"Come in here!" a voice called from the open door. "Come in, it's time to eat."
They were children. They ran and shrieked and yelled—
Duun's kind. Thorn's heart stopped. He stood there in the road and looked beyond the fence and likewise the children stopped their game and stared, they on their side, he on his.
They were like Duun. Like him, in grayer, paler coats. With Duun-like ears, eyes, faces— with all that made up Duun.
"Aiiii!" one screamed. The other yelled. They hugged each other and yelled— to frighten him, he thought; he stood his ground, trembling at the sight. More of Duun's kind came out.
But children were like Duun. Children were not born hairless; he was not a child gone wrong, failed in growing—
—He was—
(Duun!)
He drew back. A man had run out onto the step. "Get in! Get inside!"
Thorn thought it meant him, and delayed. "Ili! Ili! Get the gun!"
(O gods! Guns! Duun!)
He spun on his heel and ran. He heard doors slam, more than once. Heard running come toward the fence, heard voices at his back. "Gods, it's him! "
one yelled, and others took it up. "It's that thing— that thing! "
It was a trap. Duun had made it. Duun had snared all his paths, all the world: there was no way, nothing, anywhere, that Duun had not seen and set up to trap him—
52
Cuckoo's Egg
(Got you, minnow, got you again—)
Thorn snatched breath and left the road, darted into the undergrowth, hearing the howl of animals at his back, hearing shouts raised— "The thing on the mountain! — It's him, it's come!"
(O gods , Duun— gods—) Breath split his side. Branches tore at him. He ran and something in him had broken, ached, swelled in his throat—
They hunted him. They all did. There was no help.
No quarter.
Leaves burst into flames near him. Beamer. He heard the whine of projectiles.
Splinters burst into his face. He flung his hands up, hit a tree or some such thing: impact numbed his arm and spun him. The ground came up. He felt twigs stab his hand, earth and leaves abrade the heel of it. He scrambled to turn over and get his knees, his legs under him, eyes pouring tears; the numbed arm flopped at his side. He heard more shots whine.
"There he is!"
He dived and dodged and stumbled to his knees again, aware of shock.
Once he had fallen from the rocks and been like this, numb from head to foot, and scared and breathless— had risen and walked and run again and known only later where he was, to find Duun gazing down at him from the high rocks.
To find Duun coming down to him, game abandoned, to take his face in his maimed hand, jaw pinched between thumb and forefinger, and look into his eyes—
"You hear me, little fish? You hear me?
Duun!
53
Cuckoo's Egg
Thorn slipped to one knee and got up again, turned, his shoulder to rough bark. There were lights, the howl of beasts, there were shapes behind the lights, people shining lights wildly this way and that into the brush, over him.
"Get it! There it goes!"
He put the tree between them and him and ran again, left arm swinging like a dead thing at his side. (I was hit. It was a shot that knocked me down. They shot me. Am I allowed to use my knife?) He ran and ran, sliding on the slopes, tearing himself on brambles. (Is this real? Is it game?
Duun— Did you set this up? Am I supposed to kill? Duun. I'm scared! ) He came down the slope, skidded at the bottom, spun on one foot and ran left along the streamcourse.
A shadow rose up in his path. He flung himself aside to escape it, but it was there, shonun-smelling, blocking the strike of his right arm,
Similar Books
