Free The Klaatu Terminus by Pete Hautman Page A

dead, or she was alive. He would find her, or he would not. He did not think God could help him.
    A new sensation radiated from his belly into his awareness. At first, he did not know what he was feeling, then he recognized it as hunger. He crawled over to the cloth bag. Inside was a glass bottle half full of water, and two leaf-wrapped packets. Tucker uncapped the bottle and drank. He unwrapped the packets. One held strips of dried meat, the other contained what looked like a yellow compressed sponge. Tucker sniffed, then tasted it. Like dense, stale angel food cake, but not so sweet. He washed it down with another gulp of water, then went to work chewing on the dried meat, trying not to think what sort of animal it might be. He ate all the meat, then finished the spongy, dry mystery cake. The food settled comfortably inside him. He examined the wound under his rib cage, which had nearly closed and was not bleeding at all. He sat back against the tree trunk and waited.
    It was getting dark when the man finally stirred. His fingers twitched, he moaned, then tried to move. His eyes popped open and rolled around in sudden panic.
    “I don’t want to hurt you,” Tucker said. He stood up. The numbness and discomfort in his abdomen had subsided — he felt almost normal.
    The man struggled frantically against his bonds.
    “I want you to take me to Lia. The girl.”
    The man shook his head, his shoulder and arm muscles stood out as he strained to break the cord around his wrists. Tucker braced himself in case the man broke loose, but the rope held. The man glared at him and muttered something that sounded like a curse.
    Tucker pointed the machete at the man’s feet. “I’m going to cut your feet loose. If you run, I will catch you. You know I can.” He hoped it was true. He was feeling much better, but chasing this man through an unfamiliar jungle in the dark might be beyond him. “I am a
bruja
,” he said. “I will catch you with magic.”
    The man stopped struggling. Tucker could see in his eyes that the man believed him.
    “If my friend is okay, I’ll let you go. But you have to promise not to run.”
    The man licked his lips and nodded. Tucker sawed through the rope with the machete and stepped back. The man held out his bound wrists. “Cut?”
    “No,” Tucker said. “First, you take me to the girl.”
    The man lowered his hands and climbed to his feet.
    “What is your name?” Tucker asked.
    The man frowned and shook his head.
    Tucker pointed at himself. “I’m Tucker. What is your name?”
    “Yaca,” the man said.
    “Yaca. Okay, let’s go, Yaca.”
    Tucker expected the man to follow the trail, but instead Yaca walked straight into the brush, sliding through and around obstacles with graceful familiarity. Tucker followed, staying a few feet behind him. He hoped that his talk of being a
bruja
and knowing magic had terrified the young man into obedience. If Yaca chose to run off in the darkening forest, there was no way he’d catch him.
    They came to a well-trodden path. The path followed the side of a hill, then zigzagged down to the bank of the river. Without hesitating, Yaca stepped into the water. He picked his way across the river, his feet finding stepping stones just below the surface — a submerged bridge. Tucker followed, mimicking Yaca’s footfalls. They reached the far side safely. The path continued on the other side, heading east. The surrounding forest had become a jumble of shadows. Tucker could barely make out the shape of the man ahead of him.
    Yaca stopped.
    “How much farther?” Tucker asked.
    Yaca looked over his shoulder and Tucker saw a flash of white teeth — a smile.
    “We are here.”
    Two shadows detached themselves from the underbrush and stood to either side of Yaca. Tucker took a step back. He heard a faint sound and turned. Two more figures were behind him on the trail. He could see the glint of their machetes.
    Yaca spat out a string of words. The only one Tucker