Read Online A Handful of Darkness by Philip K. Dick - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Philip K. Dick
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is it?” Trent asked.
“Nothing.” They started on. “For a moment—”
A flash. The bugs ahead on the trail winked out of existence. A dull roar of light rolled over them.
Trent sprawled. He struggled, caught in the vines and sappy weeds. Around him bugs twisted and fought wildly. Tangling with small furry creatures that fired rapidly and efficiently with band weapons and, when they got close, kicked and gouged with immense hind legs.
Runners.
The bugs were losing. They retreated back down the trail, scattering into the jungle. The runners hopped after them, springing on their powerful hind legs like kangaroos. The last bug departed. The noise died down.
“Okay,” a runner ordered. He gasped for breath, straightening up. “Where’s the human?”
Trent got slowly to his feet. “Here.”
The runners helped him up. They were small, not over four feet high. Fat and round, covered with thick pelts. Little good-natured faces peered up at him with concern. Beady eyes, quivering noses and great kangaroo legs.
“You all right?” one asked. He offered Trent his water canteen.
“I’m all right.” Trent pushed the canteen away. “They got my blaster.”
The runners searched around. The blaster was nowhere to be seen.
“Let it go.” Trent shook his head dully, trying to collect himself. “What happened? The light.”
“A grenade.” The runners puffed with pride. “We stretched a wire across the trail, attached to the pin.”
“The bugs control most of this area,” another said. “We have to fight our way through.” Around his neck hung a pair of binoculars. The runners were armed with slug-pistols and knives.
“Are you really a human being?” a runner asked. “The original stock?”
“That’s right,” Trent muttered in unsteady tones.
The runners were awed. Their beady eyes grew wide. They touched his metal suit, his viewplate. His oxygen tank and pack. One squatted down and expertly traced the circuit of his transmitter apparatus.
“Where are you from?” the leader asked in his deep purr-like voice. “You’re the first human we’ve seen in months.”
Trent spun, choking. “Months? Then…”
“None around here. We’re from Canada. Up around Montreal. There’s a human settlement up there.”
Trent’s breath came fast. “Walking distance?”
“Well, we made it in a couple of days. But we go fairly fast.”
The runner eyed Trent’s metal-clad legs doubtfully. “I don’t know. For you it would take longer.”
Humans. A human settlement. “How many? A big settlement? Advanced?”
“It’s hard to remember. I saw their settlement once. Down underground—levels, cells. We traded some cold plants for salt. That was a long time ago.”
“They’re operating successfully? They have tools—machinery—compressors? Food tanks to keep going?”
The runner twisted uneasily. “As a matter of fact they may not be there any more.”
Trent froze. Fear cut through him like a knife. “Not there?
What do you mean?”
“They may be gone.”
“Gone where?” Trent’s voice was bleak. “What happened to them?”
“I don’t know,” the runner said. “I don’t know what happened to them. Nobody knows.”
He pushed on, hurrying frantically north. The jungle gave way to a bitterly cold fern-like forest. Great silent trees on all sides. The air was thin and brittle.
He was exhausted. And only one tube of oxygen remained in the tank. After that he would have to open his helmet. How long would he last? The first rain cloud would bring lethal particles sweeping into his lungs. Or the first strong wind, blowing from the ocean.
He halted. gasping for breath. He had reached the top of a long slope. At the bottom a plain stretched out—tree-covered—a dark green expanse, almost brown. Here and there a spot of White gleamed. Ruins of some kind. A human city had been here three centuries ago.
Nothing stirred—no sign of life. No sign anywhere.
Trent made his way down the
“Nothing.” They started on. “For a moment—”
A flash. The bugs ahead on the trail winked out of existence. A dull roar of light rolled over them.
Trent sprawled. He struggled, caught in the vines and sappy weeds. Around him bugs twisted and fought wildly. Tangling with small furry creatures that fired rapidly and efficiently with band weapons and, when they got close, kicked and gouged with immense hind legs.
Runners.
The bugs were losing. They retreated back down the trail, scattering into the jungle. The runners hopped after them, springing on their powerful hind legs like kangaroos. The last bug departed. The noise died down.
“Okay,” a runner ordered. He gasped for breath, straightening up. “Where’s the human?”
Trent got slowly to his feet. “Here.”
The runners helped him up. They were small, not over four feet high. Fat and round, covered with thick pelts. Little good-natured faces peered up at him with concern. Beady eyes, quivering noses and great kangaroo legs.
“You all right?” one asked. He offered Trent his water canteen.
“I’m all right.” Trent pushed the canteen away. “They got my blaster.”
The runners searched around. The blaster was nowhere to be seen.
“Let it go.” Trent shook his head dully, trying to collect himself. “What happened? The light.”
“A grenade.” The runners puffed with pride. “We stretched a wire across the trail, attached to the pin.”
“The bugs control most of this area,” another said. “We have to fight our way through.” Around his neck hung a pair of binoculars. The runners were armed with slug-pistols and knives.
“Are you really a human being?” a runner asked. “The original stock?”
“That’s right,” Trent muttered in unsteady tones.
The runners were awed. Their beady eyes grew wide. They touched his metal suit, his viewplate. His oxygen tank and pack. One squatted down and expertly traced the circuit of his transmitter apparatus.
“Where are you from?” the leader asked in his deep purr-like voice. “You’re the first human we’ve seen in months.”
Trent spun, choking. “Months? Then…”
“None around here. We’re from Canada. Up around Montreal. There’s a human settlement up there.”
Trent’s breath came fast. “Walking distance?”
“Well, we made it in a couple of days. But we go fairly fast.”
The runner eyed Trent’s metal-clad legs doubtfully. “I don’t know. For you it would take longer.”
Humans. A human settlement. “How many? A big settlement? Advanced?”
“It’s hard to remember. I saw their settlement once. Down underground—levels, cells. We traded some cold plants for salt. That was a long time ago.”
“They’re operating successfully? They have tools—machinery—compressors? Food tanks to keep going?”
The runner twisted uneasily. “As a matter of fact they may not be there any more.”
Trent froze. Fear cut through him like a knife. “Not there?
What do you mean?”
“They may be gone.”
“Gone where?” Trent’s voice was bleak. “What happened to them?”
“I don’t know,” the runner said. “I don’t know what happened to them. Nobody knows.”
He pushed on, hurrying frantically north. The jungle gave way to a bitterly cold fern-like forest. Great silent trees on all sides. The air was thin and brittle.
He was exhausted. And only one tube of oxygen remained in the tank. After that he would have to open his helmet. How long would he last? The first rain cloud would bring lethal particles sweeping into his lungs. Or the first strong wind, blowing from the ocean.
He halted. gasping for breath. He had reached the top of a long slope. At the bottom a plain stretched out—tree-covered—a dark green expanse, almost brown. Here and there a spot of White gleamed. Ruins of some kind. A human city had been here three centuries ago.
Nothing stirred—no sign of life. No sign anywhere.
Trent made his way down the
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