Jungle Of Steel And Stone (12 page)

He has only gone a few steps when he slips on wet stones and plunges into the water. His mind screams in panic as foul-smelling water closes over his head, blinding him, filling his nose and mouth. He stretches his legs, frantically searching for a bottom that isn't there. Now he will die, Veil thinks; he will sink forever and be buried beneath this depthless
Newyorkcity river.

However, despite his panic, Veil has never lost his grip on the Nal-toon. Now God slowly begins to carry him back to the surface.

Veil is choking, but he manages to control his cough reflex and hold his breath as he clings to the
clothes
in which he has wrapped the Nal-toon. After a few moments his head pops above the surface. Coughing and choking, swallowing water, he heaves his body across the Nal-toon, wraps his arms around God, and holds on. The choking spasms pass, and Veil frantically gulps air while he breathes a prayer of thanks to God, Who is now transporting him across the
river
on His back.

But then Veil realizes that a great effort on his part is still required; there is fantastic power in the movement of the
river's
great, wet body, and that movement is carrying him to the south. If he does not fight that power, Veil thinks, he will be carried past the land and helplessly swept down the middle of the
river,
where the
Newyorkcities
will easily kill him with their bang-sticks.

Ignoring the pain in his left arm, Veil uses it alone to grip the Nal-toon. He lashes out with his feet and beats at the water with his free hand, struggling with all his might against the force of the
river.
The muscles in his arms and legs begin to burn, but he struggles even harder; he closes his eyes and increases the tempo of his thrashing. When he opens his eyes and glances up, he finds he is only a short distance from the land.

Suddenly he is caught in a small tidal whirlpool and spun around. He reaches out with his hand—and his fingers catch in a crevice between two large rocks. With his last strength he pulls himself in to the land. He clambers up over rocks, then falls, gasping for breath, on dewy grass.

He is cold and thirsty. He does not want to drink any more of the foul-smelling water, for he fears that it may be poisoned. However, he feels that he has no choice but to slake his thirst now, while he has the chance, for he has not passed a single spring and he has no idea where the
Newyorkcities
draw their water. Having caught his breath, he lies on his belly on the rocks and drinks; the water tastes terrible, but it dulls his thirst.

Veil rises, turns, and starts to walk toward the nearest
building.
He has gone only a few steps when he stops and tenses as a sleepy-looking
Newyorkcity
emerges from one of the
buildings
and begins walking almost directly toward him on one of the stone paths. Veil grips the shaft of his spear but does not draw the head from its wrapping of
clothes.

The man barely glances at Veil.
"Good morning,"
he says, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

Veil senses no threat in the man's tone or bearing, and he allows him to pass by. "Go in peace," he says softly.

It is growing lighter. Veil puts his bundle under his arm and moves toward a space between two
buildings.

"Hey, you! Where the hell do you think you're going?"

This voice, coming from Veil's left, is definitely threatening. Veil quickly places his bundle on the ground, pulls the spear free, and wheels to find a
Newyorkcity
warrior, dressed in blue
clothes
and carrying a bang-stick, running toward him. Knowing that his spear is useless against a bang-stick, Veil picks up the bundle and sprints in the opposite direction, along the side of the
building.

"Stop, you son of a bitch, or I'll shoot your black ass!"

Veil rounds the
building,
races to the end, turns left, and runs down a lane of grass bounded by the
river
and the
building.
He sees a narrow opening, ducks into it. The passageway reeks of rotting, unburied scraps of food, but there are piles of battered metal objects behind which he can hide. He crouches down behind three of the objects and waits, spear held ready, certain that he can kill his attacker at close range.

The enemy warrior appears at the entrance to the passageway a few seconds later. The man's face is flushed, and Veil can hear the breath rasping in his lungs. The hand holding the bang-stick is shaking as the man moves slowly into the passageway.

Veil is about to leap out and hurl his spear when the warrior suddenly stops. He wipes a glistening sheen of sweat from his face, then begins to back away.

"Shit. I'm not about to risk my ass on a part-time job. Fuck him."

Veil smiles grimly and allows himself to relax as the
Newyorkcity
disappears from sight. He rearranges his bundle into a sling that he can once again carry around his neck, then looks up and squints into the bright sunlight at the end of the passageway. The light makes his head ache and his eyes burn. He is beginning to feel sick and dizzy, and he knows that he must quickly find a place to go to ground.

Directly above his head is a metal structure with small platforms that project from the side of the
building.
He might be able to go to ground on top of the
building,
he thinks. He leaps for the bottom of the metal structure, grips it, and is pleasantly surprised when a portion of the structure swings down, making it simple for him to climb; as he does so, the bottom portion of the structure swings back into its original position.

Veil lies down on the sticky, pebbled surface on top of the
building
and stares out over
Newyorkcity.
This land is so vast, he thinks, so strange. In all directions,
buildings
thrust toward the sky; countless
cars
speed along on countless
streets,
which crisscross and stretch into the distance as far as he can see. . . .

Suddenly, without warning, his entire body spews sweat, and he feels his insides begin to churn. Something is terribly wrong with him, Veil thinks, and he quickly removes his cloak and loincloth so as not to soil himself. Then he vomits, and he continues retching long after there is nothing left in his stomach. He collapses on his right side, gasping for breath—and then the process begins all over again.

At last, exhausted and barely able to see, Veil drags himself away from the soiled area, then collapses in a pool of his own sweat and passes out.

* * *

In Veil's dream, his Toby awakens groggy and disoriented. Then he remembers: The
Newyorkcities
are after him and he is sick—probably from poisoned water. But he must go on.

Veil tries to stand but cannot. He loses track of time as he lies sprawled on the hot surface, only half conscious. His flesh burns, and he cannot remember ever being so thirsty; he is so thirsty, Veil thinks, that he would even drink more of the poisoned water—if only he could get to it.

He must go on. If he remains where he is, the
Newyorkcities
will eventually find and kill him. He must go on. Suddenly it is night, although Veil's Toby does not remember sleeping. He does not know how much time has passed since he climbed to the top of the
building,
and his fever-thirst is now so great that his swollen tongue fills the back of his throat, making it difficult for him to swallow and breathe.

He stinks of sickness.

"Give me strength, Nal-toon," he murmurs.

He struggles to his knees, then laboriously rises to his feet. Sweat oozes in great drops from his pores, rolls and gathers into a shining film; his flesh steams in the cool night air. He sways, but manages to remain standing, leaning on his spear for support, he hitches the sling over his shoulder and staggers across the top of the
building
to the metal structure. Slowly he descends, concentrating intently on each hand- and foothold.

On the ground he moves unsteadily off to his left, then crosses a narrow
bridge
that spans this arm of the
river.
The sight and sound of the water playing against his jagged thirst is almost overwhelming, but Veil now has second thoughts about drinking it; the Nal-toon will not reward him for stupidity or weakness, he thinks, and he must search for sweet water to cool his fever and purge his body. He manages to align himself with a chosen landmark, staggers on.

Eventually he staggers into a small clearing surrounded by trees. However, the area is too small to offer sanctuary—most of it is open, in full view of
Newyorkcities
in
cars
on the
bridge
overhead.

Veil moves around the perimeter of the clearing, then stops and begins to tremble with hope and anticipation when he hears the sound of splashing water. He moves quickly toward the sound and discovers, near a tree, a strange structure of stone and metal. Water spouts from the center of the structure. He has no idea where the water comes from, for he can see no spring anywhere nearby. He assumes it is but another example of the
Newyorkcities'
magic, a place where
Newyorkcities
drink. This water will be sweet.

When he has looked around and satisfied himself that there are no
Newyorkcities
in the area, Veil moans and runs to the water. Supporting himself with his hands against the stone base, he thrusts his face into the cool, cascading water and drinks.

He drinks until he vomits, then repeats the process again and again; he knows that he must purge his body of as much of the poison
river
water as possible. Eventually he begins to drink more sparingly. When he has finally slaked his thirst, he uses handfuls of the clear water to wash his body.

For a few moments his head clears and his vision snaps back into sharp focus—but then his vision again blurs, his head throbs, and his body breaks into a sweat. He leans against the stone-and-metal water structure until a spell of dizziness passes. He drinks again, then starts off on a line of march parallel to the
bridge
overhead. He knows that he must find sanctuary before the sun rises, or he will be finished.

Veil passes out of the clearing and finds himself in a maze of metal
buildings,
much smaller than those on the other side of the
river.
In agony, he struggles on, moving in a pain-blurred, staggering, slow-motion race against the glow of approaching dawn.

Finally he comes to a barrier of woven metal strands stretching north and south as far as he can see. On the other side of the barrier are long, rectangular, wooden objects that sit on metal
wheels
but are not
cars
or
Land-Rovers;
there are more of the objects than Veil can count, and all of them rest on twin strands of thick metal that weave and crisscross one another like the sand-tracks of many desert snakes.

He has found his sanctuary, Veil thinks. He can hide inside one of the wooden structures. But first he must find a way to get past the barrier, which has countless little knives running along its top.