Just a Little Favor for a Friend Pt. 5
And God Said, "Rar"
***
"Now that Twister's gone nuts, what about food?"
"Hang on a second." Ted held up a finger to Wash, got half out of his kneeling position by the crate, and picked up Twister's sidearm off the forest floor. "To give to him when he comes back."
"Don't trust Raleigh anymore?"
Raleigh answered. "I ain't afraid of Twister. No reason to bother with his gun."
Ted shrugged, turning the pistol over and over. He peered into the criss-crossing pine branches above them. "Aren't you supposed to be able to noose small animals on their game trails? How does that work?"
Wash tipped one shoulder up. "Here we are, surrounded by natural splendor, nourishment coursing through every... leaf, or whatever, and we're totally unprepared to take advantage of the bounty. That's not very comforting."
"I had a water survival course."
"Think we all did." Twister entered the clearing, minus the ammo crate. "Don't need to worry much about starving in deep water. Drowning and enormous, man-eating fishes are about all you need to cover. If there were a puddle around here, I could survive in it. You boys all done with this rations wrapping? Licked out all the crumbs or flavor you need?" He began to turn packages inside-out.
"Yeah Twister," Raleigh told him, "Go ahead and eat the packages if you wanna."
"Thanks. You boys gotta think like predators. Raleigh, he's soft. He could get us some good pickings from around this place. But I gotta be the one to fix it all up, thanks Ted." Twister took back his sidearm. "What about goats? There're some goats down the way we came."
"Goats?" Wash sat cross-legged on the ground and puzzled up at Twister.
Ted nodded. "The way your team came, up the canyon, is under better cover from the sky, but on the other side, the mountain side, there's a place where it looks like the terraformers put an overhang. We walked up the ridge, good thing Raleigh could help in some tough spots. Seems to me there's some fragile grass plains above an overhang, and we could see goats in a sort of rock meadow below that. Bet they can't climb past a certain point."
"Maybe we could just eat the grass, since the goats aren't allowed to," Wash suggested.
"'sall I think we'll be able to manage." Ted patted his pistol. "Not exactly a gun for hunting."
"Throw the rifle ammo at them? That might work. Or, better yet, get fish or frogs in the stream at the bottom of the canyon." As soon as he said it, Wash thought of Sink's body in the trashed rendezvous point partway down the canyon and decided he'd rather not go that direction.
"Thought of that," Twister said. "It's a ways down, as you know. Couldn't go all the way to the stream and know if the 'copter came, or get back quick. I tried the radio when we came up here and it was taking-- taking awhile with the 'copter." He looked sideways at Raleigh, who ignored him. "It's buried, and we could dig it up and carry it along, or try to, but we'd have to change the signal to indicate our changing position. All I managed to do was disable it. I turned it back on."
Wash frowned. "There's a certain poignancy to starving in a puddle. Starving on a mountainside just seems trite."
"Sharks are the only problem I remember learning about from the survival courses," Ted pondered. "And they couldn't get you in these parts."
"Toe sharks. They get you while you wade." Wash scraped at the needles until he had a slight dish on the hard ground. "Here, make a puddle with our ample water supply."
Twister finished picking through the empty rations wrappers and disappeared into the woods again. "Is he just gonna keep randomly walking in and out of the trees?" Wash asked, "Or are we gonna do something about the goats?"
Twister reappeared two minutes later, some of the rations wrappers sticking out over the top of his pocket. "I been thinking... we could mark out a nanny for pistol fire. Three of us mark her out and cut off her jump range to the flocking goats, we sort of shoot her in the eye, see?"
Wash sorted through Twister's words. "Is this some kind of slang referring to goat hunting?"
"What?"
"Is this really the right time for banter?"
Twister grinned. "Any time is the right time for banter, Chappie."
"Wash, despite the fact that Twister has already cracked, I suggest we now try his idea."
"I have not the first clue what he just proposed."
"Sort of... herd. The goats."
"Onto a pistol? Over a cliff would be easier." Wash longed for the 'copter. He began to have a wild hope that it would come back, right then, and he shoved the wishing down so it wouldn't interfere so much with his survival. Not that they had a chance, but to fling away any attention to the current predicament for the sake of a desperate wish would still be foolish.
"That'd be fine if it weren't for the goats already being at the bottom of a cliff."
"Alright, whatever you fellas say." Wash stood up. His foot, which had been itching, ached threateningly. He tried a few different angles with it until he felt he was able to walk solidly.
"Where'd Raleigh go?" Twister rubbed at his temples as though he weren't sure of his sight. "I thought he was just there."
"He must have heard where we were going and gone on ahead." Ted shuffled a few items under better cover and swished needles around with his foot so the site wouldn't be obvious. "Now we just want to leave something so if the pick-up comes, they'll know we're right in the area. We can see a 'copter from out that way if it comes down, and get back up here."
"Just leave a note that says, 'Out to lunch,'" Twister suggested.
Ted half-smiled. "I don't have my good stationery. Give me one of those rations packages."
"I need these!"
"They're empty."
"I know that." Twister rolled his eyes. "Write in the dirt there, with a knife."
Ted did that.
"Aren't you worried we'll be seen?" Wash wanted to know.
Ted shook his head. "Not up this way. The Independents will be cruising up the canyon or along its end, and that's where they know your team came down. Out here, if they didn't see us come up, no reason to be looking. They'd have to get lucky."
"Somehow I wouldn't put it past 'em."
"Just have to be careful."
They didn't find Raleigh on the way to the high ridge. Wash felt as though the open daylight were a spotlight on them, though he had loved it when he had been flying in it. The goats were visible at a distance: active, small shapes with flat backs that arched up when they jumped or butted. Ted began the climb down with obvious concern for balance. Wash wanted to help him, but he was beginning to feel, ever since watching Twister appear and disappear in amongst the tree shadows, that lights were inconsistent before his eyes, that he was woozy and not completely trustworthy. It occurred to him that he might be running a fever. Twister skidded down the cliffs fearlessly. A low, stone overhang at the bottom of the grass terrace led them just a short drop to the meadow.
The hunt did not go well. Ted's amiable spirits left him after a few hours and he rubbed his upper lip, grumbling. "Crafty little damhumpers, ain't they."
"We better get up and under cover. Don't know what's happened with Raleigh." Twister originally seemed to be at ease, as the hunt proved a failure, calling to the goats as if to puppies, but as the horizon got harder to pick out in approaching darkness he led the other two men further back toward the rendezvous point. They followed automatically, Wash flushed and glaze-eyed, Ted disgusted and hungry.
At the camp, Ted tried to decide what kinds of drugs to feed Wash. "Don't know how much this will help, without food to take it with, but we've only been without food a little while-- day or two all told, right?-- and I'm hoping it'll help knock out any infection."
Wash was disturbed by the catch his breathing had developed on the climb up. Plus, he wasn't sure Ted realistically assessed time passed without food. He felt as though he had not eaten for three days and tried to count backward to verify it. He disguised the occasional hitch in his breath with yawns, but when Ted offered him what appeared to be an antibiotic, Wash shivered and asked him, "If they don't get back soon, we run out of drugs, I develop a serious pneumonia. That about right?"
"Maybe. You want to keep warmer? Get by a heater."
Wash began to sit down, remembered the note they had left, and shone a light on the spot. "Say... Raleigh's been back. He's rubbed out the sign you left."
Ted came to look. "Where's he got off to, then?"
Wash shrugged, got close to a heater, and tried to make out the difference above him between blue night sky and black trees. "We'll have to close these heaters off quick if Independents come."
"It's been awful quiet."
"Too quiet," said Twister. "But hopefully I'll get us a snack." He ducked into the chill shadows under the trees where he had taken the ammo crate.
Ted watched the space where he had gone. "Do you suppose he means squirrels?"
Wash shrugged.
Ted glanced around. Night sounds, small, high-pitched callls, increased. Chill air pressed around the heater. Wash, probably because of the drugs, but maybe because of the thought of goats, predators, and Raleigh, started to feel more alert. Ted nervously sat up, then stood up, walked partway to where Twister had gone, came back. "Where do you suppose that Raleigh is? I'd feel safer. Not that I'm worried about us. I like him around."
"Don't see as it makes much difference." Wash stared at the heater, hugging himself.
"Why'd Raleigh take off?"
'Cause we're all dead meat and he's ditching the losers, Wash thought, but didn't say it out loud to Ted.
Twister didn't come back until the next morning. Ted wanted to go look for him overnight, but Wash protested and Ted didn't argue. After taking one watch, Wash slept in a shelter through dawn.
"Breakfast snack time." Twister waved three tiny squirrels in Wash and Ted's faces.
"One for each of us?"
"It wasn't planned that way. I miss the stupid, bold squirrels back home. This is too small a catch."
"So what's their favorite ration?"
"Well, so far I tried that strawberry toast stuff. Plus some kind of nut stir-fry. I ate some of it, when we first came up here, and couldn't figure out what it was, but the squirrels were curious. They took some bags away while we were out hunting, so I put pieces of the rest down and waited. They came alright, just not all of 'em would come in. The rest of it is what we used to do this for at home, besides eating 'em-- shooting's fine, but we used to dare each other to catch a squirrel and kill it in the box without getting bit."
"What a charming childhood you led."
"Gorram straight."
Wash found that pieces of squirrel, hacked off with knives, and roasted over chemical heaters because a fire risked drawing attention, weren't half-bad. They also were not filling. They also tended to bore one, after days of the diet. In some forays, never more than a few hours' worth and never out of range of knowing if a 'copter came down, Ted and Wash and Twister did manage to find some other items they deemed edible. The definition was questionable, but nobody involved was going to quibble. Besides, thinking and talking about physical survival kept emotions focused on practicalities, rather than on whether the Alliance space-air teams had abandoned them on Homer 63.
***
"In the Beginning, God terraformed the Earth-that-was.
"He made birds, and geese, and flying things such as bees. He also made people. He made fishes and ground-dwelling creatures such as turtles. He made chocolate cake, when He was hungry."
"Mmm."
"I could go for some chocolate cake right now."
"Yes. And God made big, scary things you don't see around anymore, such as dinosaurs."
"Dinosaurs, Wash? Did God make dinosaurs? I don't remember that from my version of the Bible."
"Who do you think made them?"
"I dunno, did dinosaurs even exist?"
Twister elbowed Ted. "Doubter! It's Wash's turn. No more doubting the plotline. Go on with your story, Wash."
Wash spread his hands. "This is a fable. A fable of dinosaurs."
Twister's and Ted's expressions clued him in a second before the whine and click of a revolver cocking sounded in his ear. Ted leaned forward and said warmly, "Aw shit, Raleigh, where ya been?"
Raleigh's pistol touched Wash's jaw. "I'm feeling angry. Back off, Ted."
Ted made as if to naturally reach for Raleigh's gun, as if there were no threat. His own gun stayed holstered. Wash tried to see Raleigh, but could only feel him breathing, behind him. Then Raleigh clamped a hand across the back of his neck. "I said back off, Ted! Look, I'll hold him up higher if it ain't clear to you I have a gun, to his face, and I will shoot him, like this."
Twister glanced away with an exasperated expression and put a hand on his sidearm.
"I could change my mind, Twister, wouldn't be hard. Could shoot you instead. It's all the same to me, ain't it." Raleigh's grip on Wash did not slacken.
Twister turned back, his gaze on the ground. "Yeah, yeah." He would not look at Wash or Raleigh.
Wash tried to gather enough breath to talk despite the angle at which his neck was lodged into Raleigh's hand. "I have-- had-- a cherry granola. Bar. For just-- for your sort of trouble."
"What do you have now?"
"Don't got it anymore."
"I asked you what do you have now, Son?"
Ted went for his gun, finally, and with the muzzle of Raleigh's pistol jammed into his cheek, Wash finally reached for his at the same time. "Ted! Sit back--" Raleigh turned the gun on Ted.
"Now Raleigh." Ted's hands went up. "Mister, if you shoot me, or Wash, I'll never trust you again."
Wash stopped with his hand held to his holster. His neck hurt like it was being burned. Raleigh was speaking to Ted.
"Are you nuts? After I almost crush your throat, you expect me to believe you'd trust me?"
"Sure. That was a stressful time. You felt stressed. It's hard, being left. See, we're all left, together."
Raleigh roared wordlessly, tipped Wash backward, jolted him up and grabbed him by the left shoulder before Wash's feet hit the ground, then kicked him under the ribs and let go so Wash slammed backwards into a tree.
Twister took that moment to draw his sidearm on Raleigh, but even as he brought it up to fire, it was clear Raleigh still had the advantage over Wash, and all the tiger had to say was, "Dumb idea, Twister."
"Well, hump it." Twister put his gun away and again averted his eyes.
Wash gagged, winced, scrambled to get to his feet, succeeded in arching his back, and felt as though something else were in control of his actions as he snatched at his sidearm. His eyes saw Raleigh's pistol definitely aimed at his face, but his own level of anger was so unfamiliar that he felt there was no possibility left outside of finishing Raleigh.
"Oh my God! I'm about to watch a man get shot!"
Raleigh stiffened and turned towards Ted. He kept his gun on Wash a split second longer, whirled and loped into the darkness.
"What was that about?" Wash coughed. His mind reeled. His shoulders, lungs, everything hurt. It was becoming clear to him that he would have gotten himself killed in his rage. This was the first that he had a coherent thought along the lines of: My gun is not drawn, and Raleigh already has his on me. A minute too late, except he was simmering down, and alive.
"No idea." Ted grinned. "Thought that yelling might divert him, somehow, bring him to his senses, no idea atall."
"I think I'm ready to go home."
"No despairing thoughts. Not allowed. Let's go find some more of that lichen tomorrow. That'll cheer you up for sure."
"Oh yeah. Once we get more of that lichen, you'll have to hold me back from romping through the forest."
Ted laughed.
Late in the cold afternoon of the next day, returning to the clearing with their haul of a few handfuls of what had proved to be arguably edible greenish blue lichen, Ted and Wash almost stumbled when Twister backed violently into them. "Don't go into the camp. Look. Gotta be a trap."
A goat carcass lay visible in the clearing. "Naw, ain't a trap." Ted walked on easily despite Twister's anxious grip on his wrist. Wash felt woozy, as he often did now after exertion, and he thought his breath whistled a bit too much; he let the others worry about whether something was wrong in the safe-place.
Ted picked up a familiar object from between the split hooves of the goat's rear foot. "It's his patch. Gorramit, he's defected. I'll hang onto this, in case it matters to his family, you know, if they don't hear back." Ted closed his hand around the patch.
Twister spat on the ground. "For what good that'll do. It wouldn't surprise me if his whole family's on a penal colony."
Wash lowered himself to sit on the ground.
Ted thought for a few seconds. "Two things. One. If you see Raleigh again, shoot him. I mean kill him. Two. We have to cover off one of these hollows and not use the shelters anymore. Help me camouflage some kind of cover. I doubt by now any of us is able to consider fighting Raleigh direct. And... well, next thing he'll do is signal a cargo ship and try to change sides. Probably sell us out."
Wash nodded. "Yeah. Hiding is better."
Twister touched the goat carcass with the scuffed toe of his boot. "Can't we eat some, first?"
A good meal made them feel more creative, but it was still a trick to cover a hollow without an obvious break in the texture of dropped needles between the trees. Ted finally figured it would be better to make individual camouflaged spots, counting on the frequent dips and shadows among the roots to complete the illusion. Wash remembered the wrecked shelters, but here there were no hatchets to try to take pieces off the roofs. "Besides, it would make Raleigh suspicious," he admitted.
"We'll have to give up our jacket linings. Wash, since you're sick, you take a heater in with you, which means you need this largest space here. And you'll be cold if you have to dive in and keep the heater closed. I'm not going to go cutting my flight suit and giving you an extra layer, because if you die, then I'm out my own warmth, good enough?"
"Good enough, Man."
The jacket linings, roots tugged loose, needles and sandy earth made individual covers against enemy sight on the ground or in the air. The next day, as Twister was taking a step across the clearing to take a look down the rock face for either threat or food, an all-too-familiar whooshing whine struck the peaceful air atop the ridge and slid down toward the rendezvous point, the noise seeming to sweep the particled air. Plants that had been lit up, distinct, blended in the vibration. Twister dove for his cover. Ted and Wash, who had not gone far, wriggled backwards and Wash closed off his heater.
A cargo ship, bronze and grey, brushing and breaking pine branches, crashed past and whined down the cliffs, then thrummed somewhere below them. Up she came again. Ted spoke out to the others. "She's seen us."
"Oh Hell yeah," Wash agreed. "What the -- they make these things maneuverable as a gorram hummingbird. No wonder they play with those tricky bombs. Wouldn't you like to have their advantage right now."
"We got a few advantages."
"Sure, good old Alliance."
"Just hold tight. We're hidden. She's seen our camp, can't possibly have an eye on us."
"There's no way they read off the heater?"
"Don't think so."
"You better pray so."
The cargo ship floated back up as if she were an animal peeking over the cliff at them. Wash had seen this before. He shook from impatience.
Then the Independent ship's belly was over them, dust swirled, and she dashed back the way she had come down. In an instant Ted threw back his camouflage and walked into the clearing.
Twister pulled back his cloak far enough to see Wash. "If Raleigh's with them, they'll know we're here. They'll come right on back."
"I'm sick, and my stupid foot aches or feels numb depending on its mood. Ted has the right idea in suicide is what I'm thinkin'." Wash shuffled off his camouflage. There was another sound of approaching aircraft, one which Wash had imagined so consistently that he couldn't be sure he was hearing it. Ted called over his shoulder, his expression soft with relief.
"They ain't coming back. Our ride's here."
***
five years later:
Zoe, First Mate on the Firefly-class transport ship Serenity, turned and looked down at a pale man with a light-blond moustache and a short-sleeved shirt silk-screened with palm tree island scenes.
"Yes, Mister? Can I do somethin' for you?"
"Perhaps you can. I'm Wash. I was asked here by Captain Malcolm Reynolds to see about a piloting job. This Serenity?"
"Yes, she is. Cap'n'll be along any minute." Zoe went back to chipping caked-in dust and grime from Serenity's cargo door teeth so they'd continue to fit smoothly. After a moment she felt eyes aimed in her direction and straightened up again.
"Mister... er, Wash. You ogling me, or the ship?"
***
"Now that Twister's gone nuts, what about food?"
"Hang on a second." Ted held up a finger to Wash, got half out of his kneeling position by the crate, and picked up Twister's sidearm off the forest floor. "To give to him when he comes back."
"Don't trust Raleigh anymore?"
Raleigh answered. "I ain't afraid of Twister. No reason to bother with his gun."
Ted shrugged, turning the pistol over and over. He peered into the criss-crossing pine branches above them. "Aren't you supposed to be able to noose small animals on their game trails? How does that work?"
Wash tipped one shoulder up. "Here we are, surrounded by natural splendor, nourishment coursing through every... leaf, or whatever, and we're totally unprepared to take advantage of the bounty. That's not very comforting."
"I had a water survival course."
"Think we all did." Twister entered the clearing, minus the ammo crate. "Don't need to worry much about starving in deep water. Drowning and enormous, man-eating fishes are about all you need to cover. If there were a puddle around here, I could survive in it. You boys all done with this rations wrapping? Licked out all the crumbs or flavor you need?" He began to turn packages inside-out.
"Yeah Twister," Raleigh told him, "Go ahead and eat the packages if you wanna."
"Thanks. You boys gotta think like predators. Raleigh, he's soft. He could get us some good pickings from around this place. But I gotta be the one to fix it all up, thanks Ted." Twister took back his sidearm. "What about goats? There're some goats down the way we came."
"Goats?" Wash sat cross-legged on the ground and puzzled up at Twister.
Ted nodded. "The way your team came, up the canyon, is under better cover from the sky, but on the other side, the mountain side, there's a place where it looks like the terraformers put an overhang. We walked up the ridge, good thing Raleigh could help in some tough spots. Seems to me there's some fragile grass plains above an overhang, and we could see goats in a sort of rock meadow below that. Bet they can't climb past a certain point."
"Maybe we could just eat the grass, since the goats aren't allowed to," Wash suggested.
"'sall I think we'll be able to manage." Ted patted his pistol. "Not exactly a gun for hunting."
"Throw the rifle ammo at them? That might work. Or, better yet, get fish or frogs in the stream at the bottom of the canyon." As soon as he said it, Wash thought of Sink's body in the trashed rendezvous point partway down the canyon and decided he'd rather not go that direction.
"Thought of that," Twister said. "It's a ways down, as you know. Couldn't go all the way to the stream and know if the 'copter came, or get back quick. I tried the radio when we came up here and it was taking-- taking awhile with the 'copter." He looked sideways at Raleigh, who ignored him. "It's buried, and we could dig it up and carry it along, or try to, but we'd have to change the signal to indicate our changing position. All I managed to do was disable it. I turned it back on."
Wash frowned. "There's a certain poignancy to starving in a puddle. Starving on a mountainside just seems trite."
"Sharks are the only problem I remember learning about from the survival courses," Ted pondered. "And they couldn't get you in these parts."
"Toe sharks. They get you while you wade." Wash scraped at the needles until he had a slight dish on the hard ground. "Here, make a puddle with our ample water supply."
Twister finished picking through the empty rations wrappers and disappeared into the woods again. "Is he just gonna keep randomly walking in and out of the trees?" Wash asked, "Or are we gonna do something about the goats?"
Twister reappeared two minutes later, some of the rations wrappers sticking out over the top of his pocket. "I been thinking... we could mark out a nanny for pistol fire. Three of us mark her out and cut off her jump range to the flocking goats, we sort of shoot her in the eye, see?"
Wash sorted through Twister's words. "Is this some kind of slang referring to goat hunting?"
"What?"
"Is this really the right time for banter?"
Twister grinned. "Any time is the right time for banter, Chappie."
"Wash, despite the fact that Twister has already cracked, I suggest we now try his idea."
"I have not the first clue what he just proposed."
"Sort of... herd. The goats."
"Onto a pistol? Over a cliff would be easier." Wash longed for the 'copter. He began to have a wild hope that it would come back, right then, and he shoved the wishing down so it wouldn't interfere so much with his survival. Not that they had a chance, but to fling away any attention to the current predicament for the sake of a desperate wish would still be foolish.
"That'd be fine if it weren't for the goats already being at the bottom of a cliff."
"Alright, whatever you fellas say." Wash stood up. His foot, which had been itching, ached threateningly. He tried a few different angles with it until he felt he was able to walk solidly.
"Where'd Raleigh go?" Twister rubbed at his temples as though he weren't sure of his sight. "I thought he was just there."
"He must have heard where we were going and gone on ahead." Ted shuffled a few items under better cover and swished needles around with his foot so the site wouldn't be obvious. "Now we just want to leave something so if the pick-up comes, they'll know we're right in the area. We can see a 'copter from out that way if it comes down, and get back up here."
"Just leave a note that says, 'Out to lunch,'" Twister suggested.
Ted half-smiled. "I don't have my good stationery. Give me one of those rations packages."
"I need these!"
"They're empty."
"I know that." Twister rolled his eyes. "Write in the dirt there, with a knife."
Ted did that.
"Aren't you worried we'll be seen?" Wash wanted to know.
Ted shook his head. "Not up this way. The Independents will be cruising up the canyon or along its end, and that's where they know your team came down. Out here, if they didn't see us come up, no reason to be looking. They'd have to get lucky."
"Somehow I wouldn't put it past 'em."
"Just have to be careful."
They didn't find Raleigh on the way to the high ridge. Wash felt as though the open daylight were a spotlight on them, though he had loved it when he had been flying in it. The goats were visible at a distance: active, small shapes with flat backs that arched up when they jumped or butted. Ted began the climb down with obvious concern for balance. Wash wanted to help him, but he was beginning to feel, ever since watching Twister appear and disappear in amongst the tree shadows, that lights were inconsistent before his eyes, that he was woozy and not completely trustworthy. It occurred to him that he might be running a fever. Twister skidded down the cliffs fearlessly. A low, stone overhang at the bottom of the grass terrace led them just a short drop to the meadow.
The hunt did not go well. Ted's amiable spirits left him after a few hours and he rubbed his upper lip, grumbling. "Crafty little damhumpers, ain't they."
"We better get up and under cover. Don't know what's happened with Raleigh." Twister originally seemed to be at ease, as the hunt proved a failure, calling to the goats as if to puppies, but as the horizon got harder to pick out in approaching darkness he led the other two men further back toward the rendezvous point. They followed automatically, Wash flushed and glaze-eyed, Ted disgusted and hungry.
At the camp, Ted tried to decide what kinds of drugs to feed Wash. "Don't know how much this will help, without food to take it with, but we've only been without food a little while-- day or two all told, right?-- and I'm hoping it'll help knock out any infection."
Wash was disturbed by the catch his breathing had developed on the climb up. Plus, he wasn't sure Ted realistically assessed time passed without food. He felt as though he had not eaten for three days and tried to count backward to verify it. He disguised the occasional hitch in his breath with yawns, but when Ted offered him what appeared to be an antibiotic, Wash shivered and asked him, "If they don't get back soon, we run out of drugs, I develop a serious pneumonia. That about right?"
"Maybe. You want to keep warmer? Get by a heater."
Wash began to sit down, remembered the note they had left, and shone a light on the spot. "Say... Raleigh's been back. He's rubbed out the sign you left."
Ted came to look. "Where's he got off to, then?"
Wash shrugged, got close to a heater, and tried to make out the difference above him between blue night sky and black trees. "We'll have to close these heaters off quick if Independents come."
"It's been awful quiet."
"Too quiet," said Twister. "But hopefully I'll get us a snack." He ducked into the chill shadows under the trees where he had taken the ammo crate.
Ted watched the space where he had gone. "Do you suppose he means squirrels?"
Wash shrugged.
Ted glanced around. Night sounds, small, high-pitched callls, increased. Chill air pressed around the heater. Wash, probably because of the drugs, but maybe because of the thought of goats, predators, and Raleigh, started to feel more alert. Ted nervously sat up, then stood up, walked partway to where Twister had gone, came back. "Where do you suppose that Raleigh is? I'd feel safer. Not that I'm worried about us. I like him around."
"Don't see as it makes much difference." Wash stared at the heater, hugging himself.
"Why'd Raleigh take off?"
'Cause we're all dead meat and he's ditching the losers, Wash thought, but didn't say it out loud to Ted.
Twister didn't come back until the next morning. Ted wanted to go look for him overnight, but Wash protested and Ted didn't argue. After taking one watch, Wash slept in a shelter through dawn.
"Breakfast snack time." Twister waved three tiny squirrels in Wash and Ted's faces.
"One for each of us?"
"It wasn't planned that way. I miss the stupid, bold squirrels back home. This is too small a catch."
"So what's their favorite ration?"
"Well, so far I tried that strawberry toast stuff. Plus some kind of nut stir-fry. I ate some of it, when we first came up here, and couldn't figure out what it was, but the squirrels were curious. They took some bags away while we were out hunting, so I put pieces of the rest down and waited. They came alright, just not all of 'em would come in. The rest of it is what we used to do this for at home, besides eating 'em-- shooting's fine, but we used to dare each other to catch a squirrel and kill it in the box without getting bit."
"What a charming childhood you led."
"Gorram straight."
Wash found that pieces of squirrel, hacked off with knives, and roasted over chemical heaters because a fire risked drawing attention, weren't half-bad. They also were not filling. They also tended to bore one, after days of the diet. In some forays, never more than a few hours' worth and never out of range of knowing if a 'copter came down, Ted and Wash and Twister did manage to find some other items they deemed edible. The definition was questionable, but nobody involved was going to quibble. Besides, thinking and talking about physical survival kept emotions focused on practicalities, rather than on whether the Alliance space-air teams had abandoned them on Homer 63.
***
"In the Beginning, God terraformed the Earth-that-was.
"He made birds, and geese, and flying things such as bees. He also made people. He made fishes and ground-dwelling creatures such as turtles. He made chocolate cake, when He was hungry."
"Mmm."
"I could go for some chocolate cake right now."
"Yes. And God made big, scary things you don't see around anymore, such as dinosaurs."
"Dinosaurs, Wash? Did God make dinosaurs? I don't remember that from my version of the Bible."
"Who do you think made them?"
"I dunno, did dinosaurs even exist?"
Twister elbowed Ted. "Doubter! It's Wash's turn. No more doubting the plotline. Go on with your story, Wash."
Wash spread his hands. "This is a fable. A fable of dinosaurs."
Twister's and Ted's expressions clued him in a second before the whine and click of a revolver cocking sounded in his ear. Ted leaned forward and said warmly, "Aw shit, Raleigh, where ya been?"
Raleigh's pistol touched Wash's jaw. "I'm feeling angry. Back off, Ted."
Ted made as if to naturally reach for Raleigh's gun, as if there were no threat. His own gun stayed holstered. Wash tried to see Raleigh, but could only feel him breathing, behind him. Then Raleigh clamped a hand across the back of his neck. "I said back off, Ted! Look, I'll hold him up higher if it ain't clear to you I have a gun, to his face, and I will shoot him, like this."
Twister glanced away with an exasperated expression and put a hand on his sidearm.
"I could change my mind, Twister, wouldn't be hard. Could shoot you instead. It's all the same to me, ain't it." Raleigh's grip on Wash did not slacken.
Twister turned back, his gaze on the ground. "Yeah, yeah." He would not look at Wash or Raleigh.
Wash tried to gather enough breath to talk despite the angle at which his neck was lodged into Raleigh's hand. "I have-- had-- a cherry granola. Bar. For just-- for your sort of trouble."
"What do you have now?"
"Don't got it anymore."
"I asked you what do you have now, Son?"
Ted went for his gun, finally, and with the muzzle of Raleigh's pistol jammed into his cheek, Wash finally reached for his at the same time. "Ted! Sit back--" Raleigh turned the gun on Ted.
"Now Raleigh." Ted's hands went up. "Mister, if you shoot me, or Wash, I'll never trust you again."
Wash stopped with his hand held to his holster. His neck hurt like it was being burned. Raleigh was speaking to Ted.
"Are you nuts? After I almost crush your throat, you expect me to believe you'd trust me?"
"Sure. That was a stressful time. You felt stressed. It's hard, being left. See, we're all left, together."
Raleigh roared wordlessly, tipped Wash backward, jolted him up and grabbed him by the left shoulder before Wash's feet hit the ground, then kicked him under the ribs and let go so Wash slammed backwards into a tree.
Twister took that moment to draw his sidearm on Raleigh, but even as he brought it up to fire, it was clear Raleigh still had the advantage over Wash, and all the tiger had to say was, "Dumb idea, Twister."
"Well, hump it." Twister put his gun away and again averted his eyes.
Wash gagged, winced, scrambled to get to his feet, succeeded in arching his back, and felt as though something else were in control of his actions as he snatched at his sidearm. His eyes saw Raleigh's pistol definitely aimed at his face, but his own level of anger was so unfamiliar that he felt there was no possibility left outside of finishing Raleigh.
"Oh my God! I'm about to watch a man get shot!"
Raleigh stiffened and turned towards Ted. He kept his gun on Wash a split second longer, whirled and loped into the darkness.
"What was that about?" Wash coughed. His mind reeled. His shoulders, lungs, everything hurt. It was becoming clear to him that he would have gotten himself killed in his rage. This was the first that he had a coherent thought along the lines of: My gun is not drawn, and Raleigh already has his on me. A minute too late, except he was simmering down, and alive.
"No idea." Ted grinned. "Thought that yelling might divert him, somehow, bring him to his senses, no idea atall."
"I think I'm ready to go home."
"No despairing thoughts. Not allowed. Let's go find some more of that lichen tomorrow. That'll cheer you up for sure."
"Oh yeah. Once we get more of that lichen, you'll have to hold me back from romping through the forest."
Ted laughed.
Late in the cold afternoon of the next day, returning to the clearing with their haul of a few handfuls of what had proved to be arguably edible greenish blue lichen, Ted and Wash almost stumbled when Twister backed violently into them. "Don't go into the camp. Look. Gotta be a trap."
A goat carcass lay visible in the clearing. "Naw, ain't a trap." Ted walked on easily despite Twister's anxious grip on his wrist. Wash felt woozy, as he often did now after exertion, and he thought his breath whistled a bit too much; he let the others worry about whether something was wrong in the safe-place.
Ted picked up a familiar object from between the split hooves of the goat's rear foot. "It's his patch. Gorramit, he's defected. I'll hang onto this, in case it matters to his family, you know, if they don't hear back." Ted closed his hand around the patch.
Twister spat on the ground. "For what good that'll do. It wouldn't surprise me if his whole family's on a penal colony."
Wash lowered himself to sit on the ground.
Ted thought for a few seconds. "Two things. One. If you see Raleigh again, shoot him. I mean kill him. Two. We have to cover off one of these hollows and not use the shelters anymore. Help me camouflage some kind of cover. I doubt by now any of us is able to consider fighting Raleigh direct. And... well, next thing he'll do is signal a cargo ship and try to change sides. Probably sell us out."
Wash nodded. "Yeah. Hiding is better."
Twister touched the goat carcass with the scuffed toe of his boot. "Can't we eat some, first?"
A good meal made them feel more creative, but it was still a trick to cover a hollow without an obvious break in the texture of dropped needles between the trees. Ted finally figured it would be better to make individual camouflaged spots, counting on the frequent dips and shadows among the roots to complete the illusion. Wash remembered the wrecked shelters, but here there were no hatchets to try to take pieces off the roofs. "Besides, it would make Raleigh suspicious," he admitted.
"We'll have to give up our jacket linings. Wash, since you're sick, you take a heater in with you, which means you need this largest space here. And you'll be cold if you have to dive in and keep the heater closed. I'm not going to go cutting my flight suit and giving you an extra layer, because if you die, then I'm out my own warmth, good enough?"
"Good enough, Man."
The jacket linings, roots tugged loose, needles and sandy earth made individual covers against enemy sight on the ground or in the air. The next day, as Twister was taking a step across the clearing to take a look down the rock face for either threat or food, an all-too-familiar whooshing whine struck the peaceful air atop the ridge and slid down toward the rendezvous point, the noise seeming to sweep the particled air. Plants that had been lit up, distinct, blended in the vibration. Twister dove for his cover. Ted and Wash, who had not gone far, wriggled backwards and Wash closed off his heater.
A cargo ship, bronze and grey, brushing and breaking pine branches, crashed past and whined down the cliffs, then thrummed somewhere below them. Up she came again. Ted spoke out to the others. "She's seen us."
"Oh Hell yeah," Wash agreed. "What the -- they make these things maneuverable as a gorram hummingbird. No wonder they play with those tricky bombs. Wouldn't you like to have their advantage right now."
"We got a few advantages."
"Sure, good old Alliance."
"Just hold tight. We're hidden. She's seen our camp, can't possibly have an eye on us."
"There's no way they read off the heater?"
"Don't think so."
"You better pray so."
The cargo ship floated back up as if she were an animal peeking over the cliff at them. Wash had seen this before. He shook from impatience.
Then the Independent ship's belly was over them, dust swirled, and she dashed back the way she had come down. In an instant Ted threw back his camouflage and walked into the clearing.
Twister pulled back his cloak far enough to see Wash. "If Raleigh's with them, they'll know we're here. They'll come right on back."
"I'm sick, and my stupid foot aches or feels numb depending on its mood. Ted has the right idea in suicide is what I'm thinkin'." Wash shuffled off his camouflage. There was another sound of approaching aircraft, one which Wash had imagined so consistently that he couldn't be sure he was hearing it. Ted called over his shoulder, his expression soft with relief.
"They ain't coming back. Our ride's here."
***
five years later:
Zoe, First Mate on the Firefly-class transport ship Serenity, turned and looked down at a pale man with a light-blond moustache and a short-sleeved shirt silk-screened with palm tree island scenes.
"Yes, Mister? Can I do somethin' for you?"
"Perhaps you can. I'm Wash. I was asked here by Captain Malcolm Reynolds to see about a piloting job. This Serenity?"
"Yes, she is. Cap'n'll be along any minute." Zoe went back to chipping caked-in dust and grime from Serenity's cargo door teeth so they'd continue to fit smoothly. After a moment she felt eyes aimed in her direction and straightened up again.
"Mister... er, Wash. You ogling me, or the ship?"