Free The Unkillables by J. Boyett Page A

cutting her face and fathering the boy upon her. And later, as the boy had grown, even if he had not been a half-breed, it would not have been Chert’s way to wish the child to fawn at his heels, and far less to fawn at his. But over the winters, Chert had developed an unorthodox interest in his son. He knew the boy hated him sometimes. But he didn’t always hate him, because he appreciated how Chert included him in the band, instead of leaving him to be the mere slave he’d been destined to be. Now that they’d been thrown together this way, Chert was surprised to find there was something pleasant about the easy familiarity that was developing between them. Even considering the circumstances.
    Chert looked into the dark forest and listened. He was willing to admit that he wished they’d had Gash-Eye with them now, with her freakish Big-Brow eyesight. Also, it would have been good for the Jaw. It was natural that he should miss her. The Jaws were always left alone with their Gash-Eye mothers more than the People’s children were with theirs; fostering a closer, more loving bond between mother and child made the Jaw a more effective hostage.
    The nut screamed—it wailed like a spirit being murdered. Chert jumped so high he nearly fell over, then stared at the thing in shock. Surely the little man who lived inside it must have been killed by the noise.
    The Jaw was on his feet, staring wild-eyed. Veela leaped up and grabbed the nut; it stopped screaming with an abruptness even more shocking than the noise had been. She said something to Chert in her own language and then, seeing his incomprehension, remembered herself and said, “No-die, you see?”
    Mouth gaping stupidly, Chert shook his head.
    Now the little man in the nut was talking to Veela, sounding unfazed. Veela spoke to him in their language. Chert and the Jaw stood and stared at them during their exchange. Veela was upset about something—as she and the little man talked, she got angrier and angrier, while Chert and the Jaw could tell from the little man’s calm tone that he retained the upper hand.
    At last she flung down the nut, and picked up the Jaw’s spear. Chert snatched it away from her. She said, “Must fight. Come, no-die comes.”
    “Then use your strong tight fire, damn you.”
    “Tired, the fire is,” she said bitterly, and glared down at the nut.
    “Well, I’m tired too. Too tired to fight a band of things that don’t die. Now just tell me where the no-dies are so the Jaw and I can slip past them....”
    He trailed off, because he could see by the approaching green glow where the undead were.
    One of them, at least. He hoped that was all there was. It was still too distant to make out clearly through the trees.
    “Green is,” said Veela. “Means eated. Means strong.”
    “Then get your damn strong tight fire.”
    “No can. But together. Together, fight. Together, survive.”
    The thing came closer. Chert realized it was not a reanimated person, but a deer. It stumbled through the trees clumsily, but it definitely knew they were there and was closing in. If it had been an undead in a human body Chert would have tried to persuade the Jaw to run away, but he figured a deer, even an undead one, would be able to catch up with them.
    He looked over his shoulder and saw the Jaw had his spear ready, looking grim and prepared. “The woman says we have to destroy the head,” Chert reminded him. “So that’s what we’ll do and we’ll hope she’s right.” And then we’ll leave her behind and go our own way, if this is all the help she is, he silently added. The Jaw nodded at him, then turned his eyes back to the glowing green deer.
    The dead animal made more noise thrashing through the underbrush than it ever had done in life. Once there were not too many trees blocking the way between it and them, Chert saw his son’s spear go flying past his shoulder and into the thing’s neck.
    The spear didn’t stop the thing. But it gave it