Read Online Logan Trilogy by William F Nolan, George Clayton Johnson - Free Book Online
Authors: William F Nolan, George Clayton Johnson
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"Living's better than dying."
"You could cooperate," she said. "You could work together instead of slaughtering each other."
"Work for what?"
"Food, clothing, tools…"
"There's damn little food, less clothing and no tools. It takes wood and stone and metal to build something, and the only metal around here is—in Box."
A man loped up to drop a soggy bundle at their feet. "Here's your cut," the man said to Logan.
He picked up the bundle—and unwrapped the liver and heart of Harry 7! Jess stepped back with a look of horror. Logan dropped the bundle; it stained the snow.
"We don't waste food here," snapped Warden. "This ain't a threemile complex in Nebraska. Now pick up your share. When you get hungry enough you'll eat."
"There must be other food," said Logan.
"Out there." Warden swept the lifeless horizon with his hand. "Maybe a mile, maybe a hundred. If you're lucky you'll stumble across a seal whelp, which ain't very likely. Black Tom killed a polar bear once with an ice spear. We lost three men last month, tryin' to pull down a bull seal—and Redding lost all his fingers. Ice too thick to reach the fish if there is any. And if you don't have luck in the first hour there ain't a second. Shackleford made himself a slingshot outa hide strips, but he froze solid before he could use it. Sure, there's food. There's polar bear and ptarmigan, seal and otter, and you're welcome to hunt 'em down, if you can find 'em. And when you do they can hide better, run faster and jump quicker than you can. I tell you this—go join Box out there if you don't care for the table we set"
"Box? Who's he?"
"Box ain't a he. He's a what."
Logan looked curiously at Warden.
"Maybe he's got a name, but I don't know it," said Warden. "He got chewed up in a belt jump after a torture jig with a ten-year-old. The gears scattered him some. He was half dead then, but the system don't let go that easy. They sewed him back together, and what they couldn't find they made. After
they was done they put him on a Hellcar. He lit out soon as he got here, and he's a hard one to find.
"One thing I'll say for him. He must know where the food is and how to get it. If you can catch him maybe you can make him show you. You might try up north, about two miles, near the cliffs." He grinned wolfishly. "But you can bet he won't be waitin' there for you."
"We'll risk it," said Logan.
"Then go," said Warden. "You won't be comin' back."
When they stepped from the shelter of the berg, the wind took them.
Box lived in a white world. He moved in storms of dusted ice and loneliness. He did not tire; he was never cold; a part of him never slept. His world was porcelain and pale marble, alabaster and bone ivory. He made castles of bergs and palaces of glacier cliffs. He cloud-wandered the frozen immensities.
And was content.
Box saw them coming: two staggering figures, bent against the wind. He vanished.
Logan fought the clogging exhaustion in his body. The wind leaped in to snatch his breath, battered his face and hands, ripsawed through his furred clothing. The dreaming cliffs on the ice-dazzled plain were no closer. They would never be closer. They were ten thousand miles away. They were an illusion which stung him forward, one leaden foot after the other leaden foot after the other leaden foot after the other leaden foot after the other leaden foot…
Jessica toppled and fell.
He pulled at her, tugging at an arm. No going forward. No going back. No more steps. The cliffs were dream and dream; they had never existed. Logan slipped down beside Jess. Her eyes were closed. She should open her eyes, he thought lazily. She'll die. If she does not open her eyes she'll die and that would be too bad. Too bad.
If I close my eyes, he thought, I can open them again immediately. There will be no problem in this.
Close. Open. No problem. I would tell her to open her eyes, but I will save this for later and show her how easy it is to open and close your eyes.
Logan
"You could cooperate," she said. "You could work together instead of slaughtering each other."
"Work for what?"
"Food, clothing, tools…"
"There's damn little food, less clothing and no tools. It takes wood and stone and metal to build something, and the only metal around here is—in Box."
A man loped up to drop a soggy bundle at their feet. "Here's your cut," the man said to Logan.
He picked up the bundle—and unwrapped the liver and heart of Harry 7! Jess stepped back with a look of horror. Logan dropped the bundle; it stained the snow.
"We don't waste food here," snapped Warden. "This ain't a threemile complex in Nebraska. Now pick up your share. When you get hungry enough you'll eat."
"There must be other food," said Logan.
"Out there." Warden swept the lifeless horizon with his hand. "Maybe a mile, maybe a hundred. If you're lucky you'll stumble across a seal whelp, which ain't very likely. Black Tom killed a polar bear once with an ice spear. We lost three men last month, tryin' to pull down a bull seal—and Redding lost all his fingers. Ice too thick to reach the fish if there is any. And if you don't have luck in the first hour there ain't a second. Shackleford made himself a slingshot outa hide strips, but he froze solid before he could use it. Sure, there's food. There's polar bear and ptarmigan, seal and otter, and you're welcome to hunt 'em down, if you can find 'em. And when you do they can hide better, run faster and jump quicker than you can. I tell you this—go join Box out there if you don't care for the table we set"
"Box? Who's he?"
"Box ain't a he. He's a what."
Logan looked curiously at Warden.
"Maybe he's got a name, but I don't know it," said Warden. "He got chewed up in a belt jump after a torture jig with a ten-year-old. The gears scattered him some. He was half dead then, but the system don't let go that easy. They sewed him back together, and what they couldn't find they made. After
they was done they put him on a Hellcar. He lit out soon as he got here, and he's a hard one to find.
"One thing I'll say for him. He must know where the food is and how to get it. If you can catch him maybe you can make him show you. You might try up north, about two miles, near the cliffs." He grinned wolfishly. "But you can bet he won't be waitin' there for you."
"We'll risk it," said Logan.
"Then go," said Warden. "You won't be comin' back."
When they stepped from the shelter of the berg, the wind took them.
Box lived in a white world. He moved in storms of dusted ice and loneliness. He did not tire; he was never cold; a part of him never slept. His world was porcelain and pale marble, alabaster and bone ivory. He made castles of bergs and palaces of glacier cliffs. He cloud-wandered the frozen immensities.
And was content.
Box saw them coming: two staggering figures, bent against the wind. He vanished.
Logan fought the clogging exhaustion in his body. The wind leaped in to snatch his breath, battered his face and hands, ripsawed through his furred clothing. The dreaming cliffs on the ice-dazzled plain were no closer. They would never be closer. They were ten thousand miles away. They were an illusion which stung him forward, one leaden foot after the other leaden foot after the other leaden foot after the other leaden foot after the other leaden foot…
Jessica toppled and fell.
He pulled at her, tugging at an arm. No going forward. No going back. No more steps. The cliffs were dream and dream; they had never existed. Logan slipped down beside Jess. Her eyes were closed. She should open her eyes, he thought lazily. She'll die. If she does not open her eyes she'll die and that would be too bad. Too bad.
If I close my eyes, he thought, I can open them again immediately. There will be no problem in this.
Close. Open. No problem. I would tell her to open her eyes, but I will save this for later and show her how easy it is to open and close your eyes.
Logan
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