Dinosaur World Omnibus Page 28

  It was true, and she could see in Valentine’s eyes that he understood this. He was a man afraid though, and Honeywood knew why. This whole place was kept together so precariously that something like the disappearance of the café was liable to tip people over the edge. If Valentine wasn’t careful in how he handled things there would be another riot, and this time it would end with Valentine lying face down in the swamp.

  “All right,” he said, moistening his nervous lips. “But I need to make an announcement.”

  Honeywood shrugged as she continued to shove things into her bag. “Do whatever you want, Valentine. But I’m heading for the door right now.”

  Valentine knew better than to argue with her and hastened away. Honeywood wondered what he was up to, but put it from her mind. She supposed she would find out sooner or later. Performing a final check of her equipment, Honeywood finished strapping armaments to her body before hefting the pack onto her back and heading for the swamp once more. She passed through several empty corridors before coming to the door which led to the main atrium. It was this room which was the easiest route to the outside, especially with all the fences up, and it was also the room which was fed by several doors and staircases. As she entered she could sense a lot of activity and saw a dozen people standing to her left doing very little. There were more to the right and for a moment she thought Valentine had got them to stop her from leaving. She tensed her muscles for a fight, but kept her head low and walked through them. They made no move to stop her.

  “The hero of the hour!”

  Honeywood stopped. The voice had come from behind her, and above, and had belonged to Valentine. She turned very slowly to see him standing on the landing a level above her, surrounded by a score or more people. Others were gathered on the stairs, or by the doors on the ground level, and Honeywood counted at least sixty bodies in the large area. Valentine was beaming, and she decided whatever he was trying to pull this was going to be it.

  She kept her mouth shut and let him speak.

  “The staple of our lives,” Valentine was continuing, “is the fights. Human against dinosaur, brain against brawn. It upholds our laws and creates order. Ashley Honeywood is the greatest scrapper we have ever known; but she is a hero for more than that this day.”

  Honeywood had never been called a hero before and wasn’t so sure she liked it. She shifted uncomfortably as her skin crawled, but continued to hold her peace.

  “There is one other pleasure which makes our lives bearable,” Valentine said, “and this is the establishment in the bayou. Seward’s eatery. You may have been hearing rumours of Seward, and I am sorry to inform you these are true. The café has been destroyed, and Seward is gone.” He paused to allow the requisite gasp to flow through the crowd. It didn’t actually happen, so far as Honeywood could determine, but Valentine continued regardless. “Honeywood has volunteered to venture forth to locate Seward and bring him back alive. The café shall reopen, we shall have order.”

  Honeywood already knew all of this, had told Valentine herself in fact, and wondered whether he had a point to make.

  “But the swamp is a large place,” Valentine said, “and who knows whether there is anything which exists beyond? Honeywood, hero that she is, cannot do this alone. Who shall answer the call to accompany her on this arduous mission?”

  So that was it. Honeywood rolled her eyes, wishing Valentine would just leave her the hell alone. She preferred her own company, moved at her own speed, and the last thing she wanted was a couple of guys hanging around telling her how to track someone. She opened her mouth to speak, but someone beat her to it.

  “I volunteer.”

  She looked at the man who had spoken. His name was Stiggs, and if he had another name Honeywood did not know it. Nor did she know whether Stiggs was his forename or surname. Stiggs was a wretched thin man with shifty eyes. He was always grinning, in an unnerving leering way, and bobbed his head when he spoke as though he was a duck diving for fish. He tended to agree a lot with people, trying to curry their favour, wanting to get them to fight his own battles for him. She could not imagine Stiggs had ever been in a fight in his whole life, and as someone who valued strength over everything else, Honeywood despised the man. He was also a known lackey of Dexter Valentine, always eager to please his master. Honeywood had no doubt at all that Valentine had put Stiggs up to this, so his could be the voice to gather others to her side.

  “I really don’t need anyone,” she said before Valentine could respond to Stiggs’s volunteering. “I can move faster alone.”

  “And such modesty is worthy of fine praise,” Valentine said theatrically. “But come, is there no one here as brave as Stiggs?”

  Honeywood groaned inwardly. That was his plan then. To shame people into stepping forward by claiming anyone who didn’t was weaker or more cowardly than Stiggs.

  “I’m going too.”

  Honeywood appraised her next volunteered companion. Abe Garza stood three heads taller than Honeywood and was built like an ankylosaur. Broad-shouldered did not cover it with him, for his chest was an oozing powerhouse of muscle. His arms were thicker than an average man’s skull and his thighs were like tree trunks. Honeywood had no doubt he would be able to outrun even a dromaeosaurid, which would make him useful to her. It would be interesting to see him wrestle one as well. Garza had yet to compete in the bouts, although he was eager to prove himself, and was scheduled for a match sometime next month if her memory served. He was likely taking this to be a preliminary test then, and to garner support to his name.

  In a couple of years he could be stealing her crowd, but at least here she could keep an eye on him, get to know him perhaps. And if he could indeed wrestle a dromaeosaurid perhaps she would even consider retiring.

  “I’ll take Garza,” Honeywood said. “Stiggs you can keep.”

  “Your party shall be made of four,” Valentine said, and Honeywood knew he had already selected the fourth member. Garza was someone he could not refuse, now the offer had been made, but Honeywood doubted Garza was someone Valentine had selected for her. She had no idea why he wanted to keep such a close eye upon her, but she wasn’t liking it.

  “I’m in.”

  Valentine’s face fell at the sound of the voice, and Honeywood realised whoever had just volunteered it had not been who he had expected. Indeed there was someone already calling his own response, but it was too late, for someone had beaten him to it.

  Honeywood regarded the young woman stepping forward, the one who had spoken before Valentine’s man could manage to. She was young, probably no more than twenty, which was too damn young to be in this place. She seemed physically capable, but far from brawny. Athletic might have been a good term for her, and Honeywood reflected that perhaps athleticism was the one sure way of dealing with a dinosaur anyway. Only an idiot charged them head-on, and this young woman had the air of someone who was clearly not an idiot. She met Honeywood’s gaze and projected a calm stoicism beneath which Honeywood could see fear and trepidation.

  Honeywood shrugged. She had no idea who the girl was, but she was certainly better than Valentine’s choice.

  “What’s your name, girl?”

  “Cassie, ma’am.”

  “Well, Cassie Ma’am,” Honeywood said, extending a hand, “you’re on the team.”

  Relief flowed through the girl as she accepted the hand.

  “My party’s formed,” Honeywood said. “Stiggs, Garza, gather some stuff and be ready to move in ten. Cassie, I’ll help you pack. Come on, people, we have a way of life to save here!”

  Everyone departed in high spirits. Honeywood had no intention of helping Cassie to pack, but nor did she want Valentine to get to her. If he could convince the girl to back out he could still get his man inside. Sticking close to Cassie meant Valentine would have to try his luck with Garza, and there was no way Valentine was a brave enough man for that.

  Cassie tried to make small talk while she packed, but Honeywood grunted it all a
way. The girl even at last understood, and stopped asking stupid questions after about the dozenth. Once the girl was ready Honeywood noticed Valentine heading their way. Cassie went to leave them alone, but Honeywood stopped with her with a simple hand gesture.

  “Well, Ashley,” Valentine said, “this is good luck then.”

  “And to you, Dex. God knows how you’re going to cope without me.”

  “Oh I’ll manage, I’m sure.”

  “Any particular reason you want me surrounded by your people?”

  “To the point as ever, Ashley.”

  “Evasive as ever, Dexter.”

  Valentine lost some of his smile. “I’m looking out for you, Honeywood. Seward … There may be more to this than meets the eye and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  “I’m touched.”

  “I need you back here, Ashley. I can’t have people like Seward ruining that for us.”

  “You make him sound like a gooseberry.”

  Valentine shrugged.

  “You know anything about what happened to his café, Dex?”

  “Know anything? No, of course not. I … You think I did it?”

  Honeywood shrugged in mockery of his own action.

  “This is a tight ship I run, Ashley,” Valentine said, and she could see the fear to his eyes now. “But I would never dare do anything to that man. God, I’d be lynched.”

  And Honeywood knew then precisely what his fears were. They had already lost Seward; Valentine didn’t want to lose her as well. If he lost them both in one day he would lose control over everything. The only difference then was that Honeywood hadn’t yet given up.

  “Keeps the coffee hot, Dex,” she said, “and prepare a feast fit for a hero’s welcome.” She signalled Cassie to trot after her and the girl obeyed. She might prove a useful pack animal after all.

  “You really think you’re going to find him don’t you?” Valentine called after her.

  “The most impossible thing I’ve ever done, Dex, is walk into a pit with a gorgosaurus and still be here talking to you. Finding a guy in a swamp pales beside that.” Valentine did not reply and Honeywood wished she felt as confident as she sounded. But she could not accept Seward was already dead. She did not know what she would do then. Lose herself to the fights probably. It would be all she would have left; she would have nothing to remind her she was even still human.

  She had to find Seward for herself. Otherwise she was lost.

  Valentine and his precious institution be damned.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It turned out that Cassie, whose surname was actually Aubin, proved to be a very handy woman to have around. As the group entered the swampland just beyond Seward’s shack it was to bathe themselves in the oppressive humidity which stuck their clothes uncomfortably to their bodies and generally slowed their progress. Honeywood and Garza had been out in the swamps many times before and knew to wear as little as possible; consequently they were dressed in thin trousers and boots, but wore very little above the waist; Honeywood wore a durable lightweight brassiere while Garza himself wore only his scars. The trousers were necessary in order to affix knives, pouches and a firearm or two, while the boots were needed in order to trudge through the marsh. If neither had been necessary, modesty be damned they would likely both have opted to slosh through the swamp naked.

  For Stiggs and Cassie Aubin, however, this was not an obvious thing. Stiggs had come wearing light armour, as though the stab vest would actually prove able to deter a dinosaur’s teeth. The girl had come dressed in a hardy travelling top and trousers which offered her no protection at all. She was even wearing shoes, which had no doubt let the water in by now and were only adding to her discomfort. Stiggs was someone Honeywood cared nothing about, but the girl was carrying Honeywood’s backpack so she had to feel a little sorry for her.

  “We’ll stop here a while,” Honeywood declared after only a few minutes into the swamp. She needed to get her bearings and check the tracks, and she also needed to have a talk with Cassie Aubin about what the hell she thought she was wearing and how she intended to act whilst on this expedition.

  Garza grunted his agreement and set down his pack while he went to check the perimeter of their camp. Stiggs collapsed, overheated and already exhausted. Honeywood watched Aubin set down one pack before struggling out of her own, and approached the girl.

  “Your first time out of the institution?”

  “It’s not an institution, ma’am, why does everyone keep calling it that?”

  Honeywood could tell the girl was hot and bothered, and likely regretting her choice of attire. It wouldn’t cost them much time to head back for her to change, but it would cost them face. “Your first time in the swamp then?” Honeywood rephrased.

  Aubin nodded as she sank to the ground. The damp immediately soaked through her trousers to her backside, but it was so humid she likely didn’t even realise. Her short blonde fringe was already plastered to her forehead and her long pristine hair was matted with sweat and dirt. She certainly looked a little more lived-in now, Honeywood reflected, if lived-in was a term which could actually be applied to people.

  Aubin produced her canteen and Honeywood reached out as it touched the girl’s lips.

  “We’re in this for the long haul,” Honeywood reminded her. “And no one’s going to be sharing their water with you when you run out.”

  She could see the girl considering her words, then she stoppered the flask of tepid water and refastened it to her belt. It was the first smart thing Honeywood had seen her do.

  “So,” Honeywood said, “tell me something about yourself. I’ve never seen you around the institution.”

  “I don’t watch the fights, why would you have noticed me?”

  “There’s more to me than dinosaur wrestling, Cassie.”

  “Really?” she asked dryly. “What do you do with your spare time?”

  “Push-ups.”

  Aubin raised her eyebrows and pulled a face.

  Honeywood smiled. For a woman who valued strength over everything else, Honeywood was actually starting to like this girl. “So what do you do that’s so different then?”

  “I like to read.”

  “You seem the type.”

  “Which means?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, you clearly meant something, ma’am.”

  Honeywood cast a look about their position, but could see no trouble. “Just never saw the point in books, Cassie.”

  “Escapism mainly. God, we could do with some of that here.”

  “Why are you here, Cassie?”

  “Because I volunteered.”

  “I meant why are you on this world. But if you want to talk about why you volunteered, I’m good with that.”

  “I volunteered because I was curious about life outside the prison. Sorry: institution. Sort of regretting my curiosity now.”

  “And why are you in the prison?”

  Aubin met her eyes and asked casually, “Why are you? How many people did you kill to be resigned to this place?”

  It was a subject Honeywood did not like to speak of and she looked away again. “What makes you think I killed anyone?” she asked casually.

  “Because you’re a killer?”

  “Maybe this place made me a killer.”

  “You enjoy it too much. I’ve seen your eyes after a kill, ma’am. No one without the killer instinct enjoys death that much.”

  “Thought you’d never been to any of my bouts?”

  It was Aubin’s turn to look away. “Maybe I’m here for lying then.”

  It was as good as Honeywood was going to get, and if she wasn’t prepared to have the girl pry into her own affairs it was somewhat hypocritical of her to press her further. “I’d advise you to lose your top as soon as you wise up,” Honeywood told her, stretching her legs to head over to where Garza was pretending to rest but had never stopped being alert to their surroundings. She entirely ignored Stiggs, who was greedily g
ulping his water as though he expected a monsoon in the morning.

  “How’s the kid?” Garza asked flatly. He didn’t care about her welfare, only that she would slow them down.

  “Eager to get this over with. Anything out there?”

  “Of course there’s nothing out there. But the tracks lead further in.”

  Yes, Honeywood thought. The tracks. When she had first set out upon this search she was certain she would find nothing beyond the edges of the marsh. The swamp tended to look after its own, and if something had indeed dragged Seward away it would not be leaving any visible tracks for them to follow. If she had found nothing by the time she reached the edge she knew it would never reveal its secrets. Instead they had found a spoor; an indication that someone had passed through here recently. Not that something had been dragged, but that someone had most likely walked of their own volition.

  It gave her further hope that Seward had just gone out hunting. If that was the case then all this was for nothing. Except that whatever had attacked his café would likely now have Seward’s scent, and could well be tracking him just as they were.

  “Any chance we could drown Stiggs and get away with it?” Honeywood asked.

  Garza grunted. “Don’t give me ideas.” He turned away from his observations in order to get his pack ready, leaving Honeywood staring through the bog. It was dark in the swamp, with overhanging weeping willows blocking out almost all light as they reached down with snaky tendrils at the travellers. The ground underfoot was deceptively moist, and Honeywood was debating whether to construct a canoe to get them across the worst of it. A million insects buzzed just above the water’s surface, feeding or performing whatever mating dances were native to their individual species. From somewhere nearby Honeywood heard the tinny chirp of a frog, but she could see no sign of it in the vastness that was the swamp.