Early Byrd by Phil Geusz Page B

Linda interrupted. "I'm so damned sick of your kind giving orders to decent human-type folks!"
Then, aiming carefully, she kicked his wounded arm.
    "Aaaah!" he cried out, hunching over and
cradling his arm in agony. "Aaaaaaah!" Then he passed out
altogether.
    "He's still bleeding," Li observed, staring
submissively at the floor. "Worse than ever, in fact. He's worth a
lot more to you alive than dead, I'd guess. Or don't you know who
he is?"
    "We know," the Canadian replied from the
front seat. "Oh, how well we know!" He hesitated a moment,
then turned around in his seat. "Do you know how to take care of
him, traitor?"
    "I can make a good guess."
    "Then do so, if you wish." He passed a
first-aid kit over the seat to Linda, who in turn handed it to Li.
"You're right. We can always make him dead later. That's never any
problem at all."

13
     
    We changed vehicles twice on that long trip. Once we
switched to a bright red minivan parked inside an abandoned gas
station covered in so much dust that no one must have been inside
in years, and the second time a couple hundred yards up a rural
driveway that snaked around through the underbrush on a long
journey to nowhere. The kidnappers let Tim and I go to the bathroom
at both places and even had warm pizza and ice-cold soda waiting
for us at the gas station. But they didn't offer Mr. Li anything,
nor so much as checked the odd-looking splint he'd made for Rapput.
When we came back from the bathroom, however, Rapput's arm bones
weren't sticking out anymore and Mr. Li's face was all pale and
sweaty. I was glad—it didn't seem right to leave the bones sticking
out like that.
    Our final vehicle was a Land Rover, which
not long after dawn jounced us along what might optimistically have
been called a logging road for perhaps an hour until we came to a
wide river with a squat, tough-looking boat on it. We had to walk
across a plank to get aboard and that was scary; the water was
absolutely racing past underneath our sneakers, and it was probably
awfully cold since it was still spring and we were so far north.
But everyone made it okay except the driver, who was left behind.
Again, no one helped Mr. Li with Rapput—they didn't even offer. Our
uncle moaned once and blinked; it was still pretty dark, and we
learned Artemu eyes reflect light just like a cat's. But he didn't
hold out long, not with the pain being so bad and him having lost
so much blood.
    Normally Tim and I would've enjoyed the boat
ride. We'd never been aboard anything that floated except an
aircraft carrier before, and that was so big I didn't think it
really counted. The American, who we’d learned was named Sam,
noticed right away how impressed we were and explained that it was
a jet boat and didn’t have a propeller. I didn't really understand
what that was all about, except that it quit being so scary when we
hit rocks after he told us the hull was designed for exactly
that.
    The boat was equipped with several thermoses
full of hot coffee, and Linda seemed genuinely sorry that no one
had considered how unlikely it was that either Tim or I would care
for the stuff. "It's okay," she said from behind the smile that
reminded me so much of Mom's. Or at least it had until she'd kicked
Uncle Rapput in the shattered arm. "We'll cook you up some oatmeal
and flapjacks with real maple syrup once we get to the cabin. And
that's just for breakfast. Fat boys, you'll soon be! Tell me, do
you guys like poutine?"
    "Mr. Li is probably getting pretty hungry by
now," I pointed out. "Thirsty, too. And someone should at least
offer water to U—To Rapput."
    "They'll be just fine as they are," Sam, the
American, assured us. "The longer they go without, the easier
they'll be to handle." His eyes narrowed. "I know you probably
think these two care about you, But they don't. It was a lie, I'm
afraid. A huge lie, just like this whole Treaty business is
a lie. We won every battle, so how could we have lost the war?" He
looked at Li as if expecting