Coyote Horizon (31 page)

But I wasn’t counting on it.

I flipped off the rifle’s safety, switched to full-auto, then raised it to firing position, bracing the stock against my left shoulder. Activating the infrared night-vision scope, I squinted through it with my right eye. Within the eyepiece was a clear view of the river for a range of about fifty yards, a greenish grey surface that rippled beneath the bearlight. Still nothing. Maybe they had gone away . . .

“Sonar contact!” Jon had opened one of the wheelhouse windows to yell down to me. “Bearing one-seven-eight, twenty yards off port bow!”

Damn it! They’d gone under! Still watching the river through my scope, I took a deep breath, trying hard to keep my hands from trembling. If those goddamn things went under the ship, they could pop up just about anywhere . . .

“Easy, son.” Carlos’s voice, from just behind me. “I’ve got your back.”

I was so startled to hear him, I nearly looked away from the scope. “Mr. President, you shouldn’t be out . . .”

That’s when they attacked.

 

 

 

The first few years after humans arrived on Coyote, it was believed that boids were the most dangerous animals on the planet. And for good reason; they had killed Carlos’s parents, Jorge and Rita Montero, only a few days after the
Alabama
party set foot on New Florida, and over time they’d brought death to many more colonists.

But we were wrong. There were creatures on the new world far more menacing than boids. It just took a while for humans to find them . . . or rather, for them to find us.

The first time anyone encountered a river horse was in c.y. 06, when a group of fishermen from New Boston who’d wandered up the Great Equatorial River ran into a pack near a small island just off the coast of Great Dakota. According to an account written by Carlos’s sister Marie, who’d led the rescue effort from the nearby camp that would later be named Clarksburg, only two men survived the attack, with one of them dying on the way back to Great Dakota. Indeed, a member of Marie’s party was killed while they were getting the men off the island. In both instances, the river horses had come in fast and hard, and struck with neither warning nor mercy.

Even though river horses had rarely been seen since then, those who made their living on the Great Equatorial were all too aware of their existence. Every so often the half-eaten carcass of a catwhale would wash ashore, and once the crew of a schooner spotted a pack ganging up on one just north of Albion, circling the giant fish like hungry wolves. And, of course, there was the occasional disappearance of a fishing boat unwary enough to be caught out on the river after dark.

The river horses that attacked the
LeMare
probably mistook us for a catwhale. Or perhaps they knew exactly what we were and just didn’t care; they’d seen our lights, and decided that we were easy prey. Whatever the reason, it mattered little what had drawn them to us; I barely had time to prepare myself before the first one threw itself at the ship.

Within the pale glow of my scope, I saw a giant, serpentine head, vaguely resembling that of a sea horse back on Earth except many times larger, breach the surface just a dozen yards off the port bow. Like something from a nightmare, the river horse rose before me, its narrow eyes glistening within a bony skull. For a second, it seemed to hesitate, as if surprised that the
LeMare
wasn’t quite what it expected to find. Then its jaws opened, exposing a row of jagged teeth . . .

That was enough for me. I opened fire, keeping my forefinger locked down against the trigger. A loud
braaap!
as the rifle jolted against my shoulder and spent shells cascaded upon the deck next to my feet, but I wasn’t paying attention to anything except the river horse. I wanted that monster dead.

My first few bullets missed, then dark blood spurted from just above its chest. The river horse recoiled, and from its mouth came a sound like a lizard being strangled. Then its head went down again, disappearing beneath the surface so close to the
LeMare
that a spray of water hit me in the face.

Salt stung my eyes, blinding me for a moment. Wiping my hand across my face, I was about to head for the railing when I heard gunshots from behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Carlos using a rifle to fire upon another river horse that had appeared on the other side of the ship.

I don’t know which surprised me more—that the second creature was canny enough to attack from a different direction, or that Carlos was armed as well—but his aim was better than mine. A rasping scream, and I caught a brief glimpse of blood and pulpy tissue spewing from the creature’s right eye. Then it reared back, momentarily revealing one of the spadelike flippers of its forequarters, before it toppled sideways into the water.

From somewhere behind me, people began to cheer, and I glanced to my right. Despite my warnings, the sailors I’d told to go below were standing near the forward companionway . . . and right behind them, several other crew members. And damn it, one of them was Jorge. The kid had come up from below, and was clinging to a float ring hanging from the bulkhead beneath the wheelhouse windows, watching everything with fascination.

“Get back!” I yelled. “It’s not over yet!”

I didn’t wait to see whether they paid attention, but instead vaulted over the windlass to join Carlos at the starboard railing. He was still firing at the river horse he’d just hit, but if it wasn’t already dead, at least it was mortally wounded. Lying on its side, the creature angrily thrashed at the water with its tail as we continued to pump bullets into its chest and stomach . . . then, just as I thought we’d have the satisfaction of seeing it die, the monster suddenly vanished from sight, as if something below it had reached up to seize its wounded body and drag it beneath the waves.

“My god.” Carlos whispered. “They eat their own.”

Better them than us,
I wanted to say, but I couldn’t. My heart was pounding against my chest, my breath coming in gasps. How many shots had I fired in those last few seconds? I didn’t know until I raised my rifle again and, aiming it toward the last place we’d seen the second horse, experimentally squeezed the trigger. One shot, then a hollow click. I’d run through an entire magazine in less than a minute . . . Then I knew that, if Carlos hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have had a chance to reload.

So I said the only thing I could: “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He let out his breath, then gave me a wry grin. “Nice shooting there. Remind me to thank Morgan for hiring you.”

I nodded. I got a closer look at the weapon in his hands: an old Union Guard carbine, its stock pitted and well-worn. “Picked this up during the Revolution,” Carlos murmured, holding it up for me to see. “Thought I’d bring it along just in case.”

I wondered if Susan knew about it, but decided not to ask. “Glad you did,” I said as I studied the river again. Both river horses had disappeared, the live one dragging away its dead companion. The crew who’d witnessed the battle were starting to come over to us, but I wasn’t quite ready to believe that the danger had passed. “Hold on, folks,” I said, raising a hand to stop them. “Let’s make sure they’re gone.”

Carlos nodded, then turned toward the wheelhouse. “Jon?” he called out. “Anything on the scope?”

Through the windows, I saw both Jon and Barry bend over the radar and sonar screens. A moment passed, then Jon looked back at us. “All clear!” he shouted back. “They’re gone!”

I sagged against the rail, both exhausted and relieved, as the crewmen let out another cheer. Carlos clapped me on the back, then Jon turned on the floodlights again and everyone came over to congratulate us. I have to admit, I took some small pleasure at being the hero of the hour, but what I really wanted was a drink.

“I’ve got some bearshine down in my cabin,” I told Carlos, whispering in his ear. “Care to join me for a nightcap?”

He thought about it for a moment. “I’m going to stay up for a while longer,” he said quietly, “but I could use a drink, yeah. Meet me on the bridge?”

“Sure thing.” Tucking my rifle beneath my arm, I made my way through the crowd. Just before I reached the forward companionway, though, I found Jorge waiting for me, Susan right behind him. The boy’s eyes were round with awe, and I realized just then that, so far as he was concerned, I was ten feet tall and fought monsters with my bare hands.

“Can I . . . ?” He stared at the rifle beneath my arm. “Can I see that?”

For a moment, I was tempted to let him hold my weapon. With the chamber empty and its magazine spent, it was harmless. But one look at his mother’s face told me this might not be a good idea. Regardless of what her father and I had just done, she clearly didn’t approve of her son being exposed to firearms.

“Maybe another time,” I said. Jorge was disappointed, but gave me a sheepish grin as I ruffled his hair. Then I eased past the two of them and went belowdecks.

Once I was alone, I put the rifle back in my locker, then removed the spare magazines from my pocket and returned them to their hiding place beneath the mattress. Then I grabbed my flask and went topside again. Now that the excitement was over, everyone was going back to bed; I passed Jorge on the companionway and gave him a playful swat on the arm as I went by. Susan was behind him, and I figured that she’d tuck him in bed. The kid would probably be asleep by the time I returned to our cabin.

Carlos was waiting for me on the bridge, and Jon and Barry were ready for a drink, too. My flask was nearly empty, but I figured that it was as good a time as any to kill the rest of my bearshine, so I poured a shot into everyone’s coffee mug. The night was calm again, yet when I happened to glance at the chronometer, I was surprised to see that no more than fifteen minutes had gone by since the radar had alerted us of the river horses. As always, it was astonishing how slowly time passes when you’re in danger.

We’d just toasted each other’s good health, and Carlos was saying something about how shocked he’d been to see a river horse willing to cannibalize its wounded companion, when there was a muffled bang from somewhere belowdecks. My first thought was that someone had dropped a heavy object down in the crew quarters . . . but then Susan screamed, and I suddenly realized what had just happened.

I wasn’t the only one who did. Jon, Carlos, and I stared at each other for a moment . . . and then we were out of the wheelhouse, practically falling over ourselves as we scrambled down the ladder. By the time we reached the crew quarters, we found the passageway crowded with people emerging from their cabins to see what was going on. Jon impatiently shoved them aside as Carlos and I followed him, and I felt a cold chill run down my back when my worst suspicions were confirmed. The noise had come from my cabin.

We found Susan crouched on the floor, holding Jorge in her arms. For an instant, I thought the boy had been harmed, but then I saw that he was unhurt. He was clearly terrified by what had happened, though, for his face was buried against his mother’s chest, his small body quaking with fear.

My rifle lay on the floor, its spare magazine attached, its muzzle still smoking. And within the ceiling was a small, splintered hole, showing the entry point of the bullet Jorge had fired.

Susan’s arms were still wrapped around her son when she gazed up at us. When she saw me, the look in her eyes was as murderous as that of a river horse.

If I hadn’t been so intent on having a drink with Jon and Carlos, I would’ve made sure that the rifle’s safety was on and that the extra magazines were stowed away some place where Jorge couldn’t find them. At the very least, I should have realized that the boy had become curious about my weapon after seeing me use it to fight off the river horses and that he might take advantage of my absence to reload it. He’d later claim that he hadn’t intended to fire it, that his finger had slipped when he’d inserted it within the trigger guard, but that didn’t make things any better. Indeed, the fact that he hadn’t actually been aiming at the ceiling only made matters worse; the faint powder burns on his cheeks were proof that the barrel had been less than a foot away from his face when the gun had gone off.

The only thing that stopped Susan from tearing me limb from limb was Carlos. Stepping between his daughter and me, he finally managed to calm her down, reminding her that it was an accident and no one had been hurt; at her insistence, he removed the rifle from my quarters, taking it up to his cabin. I didn’t protest. I was all too aware my negligence had almost caused her son to be killed.

Susan was still angry, though, and I couldn’t blame her. Jorge spent the rest of the night in her cabin, sleeping in his father’s bed while Jon remained on watch. I presume the kid slept well, but I certainly didn’t. It was a long time before I finally dozed off, and when I awoke a few hours later, the first thing I saw was the bullet hole in the ceiling, mute testimony to my negligence.

Almost everyone was still asleep when I went topside again. The morning was cold and bleak, with low clouds to the west masking Bear as it dipped below the horizon. Cherokee still couldn’t be seen, but I knew that the
LeMare
was only a few hours away from reaching its northern coast. A couple of sailors were standing watch on the bow; neither of them wanted to talk to me, though, but instead turned their backs when I came up the companionway. Gazing up at the wheelhouse, I spotted Jon through the windows. He caught my eye for a second, then deliberately looked away. He’d already heard my apologies; forgiveness would have to come later, if ever.

With nothing else to do, I went aft to go belowdecks again to the lounge. The cook was still working on breakfast, but coffee had already been made. A couple of scientists had risen early, but they clearly didn’t want to have anything to do with me either. Whatever status I’d briefly enjoyed last night had already been negated by the near tragedy that had occurred afterward. So I poured myself a mug of coffee and, deciding that I didn’t want harsh eyes staring at my back, took it back upstairs.