(eng) Mike Resnick by A Hunger in the Soul

Author:A Hunger in the Soul [Soul, A Hunger in the]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

13

KENNY VAUGHN’S DEATH seemed to mark a turning point in our journey.

The rains grew even worse, and progress was almost nil. There was no game to be found, at least by Kip and his trackers. More than two dozen of our Orange Eyes came down with some debilitating disease that Rashid couldn’t even name, let alone cure, and we actually lost four of them before it had run its course.

I don’t think we made five miles a day, and we were constantly on guard against another attack. We saw frequent signs that we were not alone, but for whatever reason, the local tribe kept its distance. At first we were grateful, but as the days passed and we realized just how vulnerable we were, crippled with illness and ankle-deep in mud, their absence began to bother us even more. We knew they were going to attack again sooner or later, and we couldn’t understand why they held off.

“How large an area can they control?” asked Markham during one rest break. “Is it possible we’re through it already?”

“I doubt it,” I said. “We can’t be thirty miles from the spot where they killed Kenny. A tribe as numerous as this one could control a hundred or more miles in each direction.”

“Each direction from where ?” persisted Markham. “Maybe we were on the outskirts of their territory when they attacked, and we’re out of it now.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But we keep coming across somebody’s tracks.”

“Why should they be made by the same tribe that attacked us?”

“Because it’s the only tribe in this area that knows how powerful our weapons are,” I answered. “They’re the only ones who have good reason to keep their distance.”

“I don’t like it,” he muttered. “We’ve got to do something about them.”

“If I were you,” I countered, “I’d be more concerned about the weather. At the rate we’re going, it could take a couple of lifetimes just to find out if Michael Drake is on Bushveld.”

“He’s here, all right,” said Markham. “I feel it in my bones.”

“All I feel is wet,” I said.

“Could be worse,” said Markham.

“Yeah? How?”

“Could be snow,” he said. “I spent a year on Snowball. Ever hear of it?”

“Nope.”

“It’s in the Willowby Cluster, about the same size as Bushveld. Except that the entire world is one giant glacier. The whole time I was there the temperature never once got above minus-20 degrees Celsius.”

“What the hell were you doing there for a whole year?” I asked.

“I spent the first half year living with Snowmen, and—”

“Snowmen?” I interrupted. “What are they ?”

“Mutated men,” he answered. “Well, mutated is probably the wrong word, since it implies a natural change. These are Men three and four generations removed from the original colonists, whose genes have been rearranged to help them adapt to Snowball. Their bones and muscles are able to withstand the heavier gravity, their fur protects them from the bitter cold, they can metabolize the food they find on the world…”

“What food?” I said. “I thought you said it was all a glacier.

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