C j cherryh, p.10
C J Cherryh, page 10
“You look in the sky today?” he asked her. That’s why I stay late.”
“Does killing yourself help?”
“Let be, Meg,” he said, sharper than he had intended, and was instantly sorry.
He reached over and took her hand. “Meg, I am tired. Forget it.”
“You were more than tired when you came through that door.”
“Let be.”
“Did something happen out there?”
He considered a moment, weighed how effective a lie would be with Meg. “Sazhje’sback,” he said quietly. “But don’t tell it.”
“You saw her?”
“I talked with her a moment-at least for what little she can say. I don’t know what she wanted-only that maybe I crossed that odd little mind of hers today and she waited for me this evening.”
“After being gone three weeks?”
“I don’t know why she came, or what she wanted.Truthfully.”
Meg gave a short and humorless laugh. “Maybe it was you.”
“Meg-“
She smiled a little. I’m sorry, Sam. That was mean.” “You know the truth about what there ever was with her; and I’m sorry it ever touched you. That’s the main reason I don’t want you to mentionSazhje’s coming around this evening. I don’t want to start it all over again. I have enough on my mind without that.”
“You don’t have to explain to me. I know you too well.”
“Good or ill?”
Her hand closed on his, tightened. “Enough so you can’t lie to me; enough to be sure why you do most things, and to know you’re worried sick over the work out there. If you think I’ll add to your problems, you’re wrong.” It was a true shot, well-aimed. He looked into her eyes and believed her. “There were things I said some time ago,”he said, “that I’ve daily wished I hadn’t. I’m mortally sorry for that, Meg; I wish you could understand me then and now... but there are things that must hit too hard to ever completely forget.” “Do you want me to forget?” she asked, which was the terrible direct-question manner Meg always had, cutting to the heart of things. “Do you have to ask like that?”
She smiled one-sidedly and shrugged.“Only when the answer’s plain. What was true then still is.”
“Less so.Less so.Meg, I’d be off this wretched world at the first chance sometimes; and ten minutes after, I don’t know. And I’m less and less sure you couldn’t leave it if you had to; but I’m not sure you’d be happy outside it.” “I know what you think,” she said.
He started to ask what that was, but there was a stamping and an opening of the front door, and Amos Selby and Jim were there with a great deal of commotion. Meg sprang up to welcome them and to take their wraps; and Amos came over after to take Merritt’s offered hand.
“I didn’t know you were back,” Merritt said. “Or did you just get in?” “About three hours back,” said Amos, stepping over the bench to sit down; Jim took the other side, and Meg sat down next to Amos. “We’ve been unloading,” said Jim. “We-thanks, Hannah,” he interjected as Hannah Burns put a bowl of stew and a cup of tea in front of him. Another woman gave the same to Amos. “We got a lot of supplies and a few new workers, most of them kids. And food for the next few weeks, anyway.” “How are things downriver?”
“Not much changed,” said Amos, “butit’s tight rations in a few areas. They’re willing to suffer to make sure we eat. Anything so long as they know we’re at work up there and the dam is rising.”
“You-“ Merrittbegan to ask further of that.
And then an alarm began ringing. Steps thundered to the door; the door flew open with a thunderous crash and Ken Porter filled the doorway. “We got a fire!” he shouted into the silence.
Benches scattered and men rushed for the doorway, for the tool storage and shovels, and women shouted for sacking and buckets. Children began to cry. “Watch it!” Amos shouted at everyone. “You know what started it” But no one was paying attention, and he looked at Merritt. “Better double the sentries,” Merritt said. “Meg-you and the women lock that front door after us and be careful what you open it to.” He ran, then, after the rest, snatching his coat that held his gun; and Amos and Jim were at his heels.
It was a warehouse: it was going fast, the entire yard lit by the fire that had involved the roof and at least a portion of the adjoining one. Men were carrying supplies out of it, ignoring the danger of collapse, for the supplies, the food, were life itself.
Merritt collared several men and sent them to the guard posts himself, to be
sureevery point was covered; and then he seized up a shovel and dropped it
again, for in his fatigue the third warehouse only then occurred to him. Men had
lostthe first building, vainly trying to smother the fire with buckets of
earth: there was no water on the hill... it must be carried up from the river; and
stingingsmoke and wind scattering the dust made the effort impossible. “Never mind!” he shouted, running. “Get the supplies out of the other one. The explosives... get them out!”
Dazed men dropped shovels and stared, some moving, others wiping at eyes and simply trying to see and breathe. It was very hard to hear over the roar of the fire and wind. Merritt shouted at them again and finally went from one to the other, pushing and shoving them into action; then he went to the door of the third storehouse, blind in the dark and the smoke, trying to locate the boxes of caps and the explosives, trying to remember how many there were in all: fifteen, he thought-two on the site already, the rest, the most part-in the warehouse. Heat numbed the air, deadly heat.
He found the boxes, heaved up a double load, started for the door.
“Sam?” Burns’ great voice bellowed out of the dark. “You found it?” “Give me some help,” Merritt called back, staggering with what he carried. He looked up as the light of fire showed between the shingles of the roof and swore without breath. “We’re afire,” he gasped as he struggled past Burns and toward the door.
Men were ready there, relieving him of his burden, taking it far from the fire, gingerly.
“Never mind that stuff,” Merritt said of the supplies they were rescuing. “Get back in here and help us before the whole shed blows.” Burns staggered out again, discharged his load to waiting hands, though there were few enough willing to go into that overheated building. There was no time to argue with them.
Twice more he and Burns each made the trip from the inside to thedoor, and by this time the roof was showering sparks, fire raining down in a roiling smoke. They worked their way back and forth through the tangle of boxes and sacks, sweating and gasping under that heat-sensitized load. A last time Merritt handed over the explosives to one of the men waiting, and staggered out free into the clearer air, coughing and wiping his eyes. Then there was a wash of air and pressure and sound too deep to hear. He was on something hard, and on his face, stripped to the waist, a pain in his upper back that seemed to run through his bones and down his spine. He made a frantic effort to move his hands, but someone leaned on his back and held him down. The pain grew worse and he grayed out briefly. When the thickness cleared from his senses he was still lying on his face... he knew the main room of the house, and Jim Selby was kneeling by him, a gentle hand on his brow.
“Sam?” he kept saying.
“It blew,” Merritt murmured thickly, and tried again to move. “It blew, Frank-It’s blown-“ Jim’ssteady, hard grip on his arm pulled him back to present time. “Mr. Burns was inside. Five others got it too. We don’t know what happened. No one knows why he went back in; they saw him clear the doorway, and then he went back in.” There were some boxes left,” Merritt recalled. “We couldn’t tell for sure which was-we-Meg. Where’s Meg?”
“With her mother.Easy, Sam.You took a big sliver of wood in the back and a blow on the head, by the feel of it. Stay down.”“Who else, who else, Jim?”
“Frank Burns: in the building when it blew. George Remington; Len Andrews; we still haven’t accounted forTod Miller and the Hansford brothers; we think they’re in there. And we have some injuries, lesser ones-we were afraid you’d die on us. You stay quiet.”
“What supplies lost?”
“A lot.”
A knee came into Merrill’s field of vision, and he turned his head painfully to see Amos Selby.
“I’m all right,” he croaked. “Amos-“
“We got the fire stopped,” said Amos. “It cost us plenty. We’re moving what supplies we got left into the house itself, except the explosives. They want ourfood, they’ll have to get us to get it.”
“They might next time.” Merritt tried to rise. Jim and Amos stopped him forcibly.
“There’s nothing you can do,” Jim said.
“How’s Meg taking it?And Hannah?”
“They’ll be all right; they’ll be all right, Sam. Lie still.”
“Why did he go back?”
“I don’t know. No one could see in there.”
“Maybe he thought I didn’t makeit.Maybe -“
“Keep itquiet.There’s not a thing in the world you can do now for anyone. Just stay stilltil we can get time to move you upstairs.” “I can walk.”
“You’re not going to.”
“There’s no time-“
“There’s no time to replace you. Stay down and listen. We can get more supplies from downriver. We got that planned already. It’ll take some time; it’s going to hurt folks some; but this isn’t the end of us, not this time.” “Force-ought to go out and check on the men out at the bridge. If-“ “Well take care of it, Sam. Well see to it.
The lower room still showed the scars of the night before, the disarranged tables and benches, the stacks of goods, the reek of smoke. But regular as life itself there was Meg Burns trying to put things to rights, pulling the heavy tables around, moving crates.
Merritt descended as far as the warped tread on the stairs before she heard him and looked up; and she brushed her hands on her coveralls and rushed toward him. “I’m all right,” he said, and continued his way down, holding the rail for steadiness. She waited tensely until he had come to the bottom of the steps and then led him to a bench at the nearest table.
“You oughtn’t to be on your feet.”
“Where is everyone?”
“Mother’s resting. Everyone else is out in the yard trying to clean things up and take inventory of the damage. We-“ hervoice quavered. “We read the burial service this morning.”
“Meg, if only-“
“Don’t give me if only.” She sank down opposite him and rested her head on her hands a moment, then lifted tear-filmed eyes to his. “You were in there with him. You tried.”
“Others did too, Meg. And they’re dead. They just-“ Therewas nothing to say, nothing that would make it reasonable, even to himself. He shook his head and stared at her helplessly. “I don’t know why I’m alive. I didn’t know he wasn’t behind me, Meg. I didn’t know.”
She took his hand and curved her fingers about it as if he were the one who needed comfort “There’s no way you could have done more,” she said. “Go back upstairs. Go back to bed, Sam. You don’t need to be down here.” He shook his head. “I’d better find out what has to be done.” “Leave it to Amos and Mr. Porter. They’re doing all right for now. Amos is leaving in about an hour, on his way for more supplies. He’ll beg or threaten them upriver. It’s going to be all right, Sam.” “What about the men at the site? Were they all right?” “They’re fine.” She stared at him a moment, thinking, and at last spoke it. “She was trying to tell you something, wasn’t she? She knew what was going to happen.”
Merritt nodded slowly. “I suppose,” he said, “that she did.”
Chapter 9
Merritt paused a moment to catch his breath, within view of the dam area, and continued uphill. Andrews saw him first and hurried downhill to meet him, offered his hand to help him. Merritt shook him off and walked beside him up to his usual vantage point.
“It wasn’t necessary, sir.”
“You know it was,” Merritt said shortly, and sat down on a log they had long since dragged up for that purpose. From where he was he had a view of much of the canyon, and of the facing wall in particular. Most of that rock beyond it on the upper slope was supposed to be gone. It was not. “We have men over there now trying to find out what went wrong,” Andrews said. “It sure didn’t do what it was supposed to do,” said Merritt “Maybe,” said a voice from behind him, “it had something to do with the instructions we were given.”
Merritt did not need to look around to know it was Tom Porter. The voice was unmistakable. He swung round slowly and carefully, and looked up at the man. “That’s one possibility among others,” said Merritt. “I suppose it’s a very good one.”
Porter had tried for an argument with a witness present. Now he folded his arms and stared down at Merritt. “You think you can do something out here you couldn’t do from the house, then? Or have you got any good ideas at the moment?” Merritt gathered himself to his feet slowly, looked at Andrews. “Go see if there’s any news from across the canyon,” he said, and George Andrews wisely took himself off in a hurry. Merritt turned with dead calm and looked at Porter, eye to eye.
“Porter, I’m not in the mood to argue with you or anyone else right now. If you want things your way, I’ll just walk back to the house and let you settle your own problems. But otherwise, stay out of my way.” “We’ve wasted a week already, and we look like we’re going to lose more than that. I haven’t insisted you be out here, knowing well enough you couldn’t, but now that you are here-“ “Porter,” said Merritt, with as much calm as he could muster, “you don’t insist anything where I’m concerned. If you think you can finish this project, you go right ahead.”
“All right, bad choice of words.But you’ve been out a week and nothing you’ve left me has worked. The blast didn’t go as planned. Reynolds went down on the slide and near went over the edge; he was lucky to get off with a broken leg. We’ve had two of the oxen slaughtered last night on thefarside and we can’t expect to get replacements inside a week. The way you want to build that extension of the road out to the dike isn’t working: it caved in and hurt a man. I haven’t bothered you with such details. Do you want a further list?” Merritt drew a long breath and wiped the cold sweat from his face. Not in a communicative mood, he turned from Porter and walked to the rim of the gorge. “Answers?”Porter prodded him.
Merritt shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.Looks as if I misjudged. Or-I don’t know. If I’d been here, I’d have taken a last check; maybe someone didn’t understand my charts. I’d better go over there and look it over.” “I’ve got a lot of men standing around idle while you’re thinking.” “There’s no need of that. Put them to work cutting timber. Do they need instruction for that? And for the other, I don’t know yet. I don’t know. Best too many not go prodding around until we do know. There could be a charge that didn’t go.Could be a lot of things. I’ll give you answers after I’ve had a chance to look around. Just stay clear of me.”
Meg was standing in the door when the crew came in at evening, warned, no doubt, by the creaking of the outer gate. There was dinner waiting as it always was, Hannah Burns there to welcome them with hot meals, the other women and the children of the household under her direction.
Merritt lowered himself to table very carefully: the walk back had proven almost too much for him. He let his weight to his elbows, settled, gave Meg a tired smile.
“How did it go?” she asked, pausing in the serving. “We were terribly worried when we heard a second blast go off.”
“It was planned. It went the way it should.”
“You look terrible.”
I’m all right.”
“Surely you’re not going back out there tomorrow.” “I fairly well have to. Besides, it’s not so hard for most of the day. It’s the walking that does for me.”
The dinner was stew again: it frequently was, due to the large number of men who must eat at uncertain hours. Merritt looked at what Meg ladled into his bowl, stirred it about, swallowed what of it he could tolerate and then excused himself to go upstairs. One of the Burns lads offered to help him; he waved him off and walked up slowly, reached the safety of his room and shut the door. He would gladly have lain down clothed, but he made himself strip out of the clothing all the same, poured water, washed, eased gingerly into bed. There was a concentrated misery in his back, between his shoulders, where there was a scarcely healed injury the length of his hand: nothing, for a starship’s medical facilities; serious enough asHestians practiced medicine. More than once since his injury he had thought of Adam Jones with longing. To be onHestia under the best of circumstances was a trial of patience. To be hurt and depending onHestian medicine, to be reduced to receiving messages by runner, to lie for hours on this sagging feather mattress-was another matter entirely. He slept finally; he did not know how long, but the last of the wick had burned in the lamp and the room was dark. He recognized the lowing of cattle that had wakened him... ordinarily sooner than it had; and people were moving about downstairs.
