Child's Play: 4/?
by Linda Garrick
Edited and Revised by Nancy Smith
Chapter 4
At some level, Alan was aware that he was dreaming.
He seemed to see a face somewhere in the deep woods, watching him. The eyes followed his every move, but without menace. The person behind those eyes was quietly curious, but not dangerous. Alan tried to move toward him, but the being retreated swiftly and silently, giving him no chance to catch up with him. It was frustrating. He tried to advance again, and again the being retreated. There was no catching him. He was as much at home in these woods as the forest denizens.
Alan opened his eyes. The sun was up and birds called everywhere. He sat up.
Marky's eyes met his and the little boy grinned. His smile was Lyn's, winning and sweet, with a hint of mischief. Alan grinned at him and motioned to the opening of the tent. Together, they crawled out, taking pains not to awaken the others.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves and everywhere was the smell of fresh air and growing things. Birds flitted overhead and a small creature skittered away from the campfire as they appeared. Alan could hear the gurgle of the rushing stream a short distance away.
"Did you hear something last night, Dad?" Marky asked.
He nodded. "Somebody came into out camp and took one of the medical kits and some food."
Marky didn't appear perturbed. "I saw you and Uncle Mark come back in, but I was so tired that I just went back to sleep. Did you sense the guy?"
"Not his mind. Just his ... well, that he was there. You know."
"Sure. You think he was a tramp?"
"Whoever he was, he wasn't out to hurt us." Alan set about assembling wood on the ashes of last night's fire.
Marky watched the flames fingering the dry stuff and then stream upward. "Well, whoever he was, I hope he's okay. Since he took the medical kit, maybe he's hurt."
"Or maybe someone he's with is hurt. I don't think *he* is. He moved too quietly."
"Yeah, and with four psychics in the tent, not one of us sensed his mind. The guy must have been a natural shielder."
"Maybe. Or he could be a psychic who had to teach himself. It'd be nice if we could find out."
Marky nodded soberly and glanced around as one of the twins crawled from the tent, looking very sleepy. Alan frowned, trying to decide which one it was. Was it Jill who had worn the pink pajamas, or Jennifer?
"Hi, Jen," Marky said.
"Hi." She rubbed her eyes and stood up, her hair tousled and fair skin flushed. There was more movement inside the tent and a moment later Mark emerged, trailed by Jill. His partner stretched enormously and yawned.
He grinned across at Marky and Alan. "Morning."
"Good morning, Mark." Alan put the coffeepot on and removed camping mugs from the pack.
"No sign of our nocturnal visitor, huh?"
"No."
"What visitor?" Jennifer asked.
Alan explained as he prepared breakfast. Neither of the girls appeared particularly worried, either. They ate ravenously, chattering excitedly about the day's activities and the planet's wildlife. Marky frowned thoughtfully, however, scowling at the crackling campfire.
"I don't think so," he said suddenly.
The two little girls stopped, looking at them. "What don't you think so?" Jennifer demanded.
"I don't think we're going swimming today. I think something's going to happen so we have to leave."
Mark glanced at Alan. He leaned forward. "What's going to happen, Marky?"
The little boy shrugged, taking a bite of the pancake that Alan had grilled for him. "Dunno."
"Are we in danger?" Alan asked.
"Nope." Marky looked unhappy. "I hope I'm wrong. I want to stay."
"So do I!" Jill's lower lip began to quiver. "I hate your old medium range precog stuff!"
"Now honey, we don't *know*," Mark said. He glanced at his daughter. "Marky isn't sure."
"No, but he's usually right, darn it!" The little girl kicked at a tree, then abruptly looked up at the branches of another tree. "Oh, look!" She stood up and went over to the trunk, looking upward into the branches. She spoke softly and encouragingly.
A small head appeared from the greenery and a furry body followed. The creature, a miniature version of the squirrel-like things that they had seen yesterday, came cautiously down the tree trunk toward her. Jill spoke softly again, and the small denizen of the forest descended another meter, its eyes fixed on the girl. Jill extended her hand, a small piece of pancake held between her fingers. The creature, with a sudden burst of speed, dashed down the tree, snatched the tidbit and vanished once again into the foliage above.
Jill smiled delightedly, and Alan watched her with sudden understanding. Jill and Jennifer both loved animals and, back at the base, were friends with every household pet in the vicinity. It was possible, from what he had just observed, that the girls might be animal handlers. It was a rare psychic talent. Alan had it, and was still developing it. It was a very useful ability to have under certain circumstances.
Jill came back and sat down to finish her pancake. Mark sighed. "Well, I guess there's nothing to do but go on, right? I mean, we can't do much about what's gonna happen until it happens."
"Maybe I'm wrong," Marky repeated unhappily. "I hope so."
After breakfast, they stowed their supplies and started off, lighthearted and full of energy, following the stream. Alan tried to tell himself that his son's gloomy prediction was imagination. After all, with the strange surroundings, it was quite understandable. The sun shone down brilliantly, filtered by the leafy greenery above, and the air grew rapidly warmer. By noon, they were ready for a rest. The stream led them to a lake, shining cool and serene in the sunlight, and stopped. Alan opened his pack and removed the lunchmeat and bread that they had packed. Mark picked up his fishing pole.
"C'mon, Marky. Let's go and see what the lake's got in it."
"Okay, Uncle Mark."
They took their packs and headed for the lake. Alan prepared the sandwiches while the two of them fished. The little boy was looking even more uneasy. "I think something's about to happen, Dad."
Alan agreed. He, too, was feeling ill at ease, as though something was brewing -- something that didn't directly concern them, but which soon might.
Jill looked up, her small, pretty face troubled. "Something's going on."
"Yeah," Jennifer agreed, taking a bite from her sandwich. "I can feel it, too."
"What is it?" Mark demanded, watching his four psychic companions searchingly. "*What's* going on?"
"I don't know." Alan put his sandwich down. "I feel strange."
"Me too!" Marky jerked his fishing line from the water.
Then Alan heard the scream, loud and terrified in his mind. Both girls screamed at the same time and Marky came to his feet with a shrill cry of alarm. Linley surged upright, grabbing the two girls. "What is it? What's happened?"
"Someone screamed." Alan spoke tersely, aware now of a psychic mind near at hand, crying out in panic. He moved instinctively toward it, the three children following. Mark, blaster in hand, came up beside him.
"It's a psychic, right?"
Alan nodded. "He's coming right toward us -- from that direction." He pointed. "He's got a bunch of guys chasing him."
"'Trols. Okay, you lead." He spoke to the children. "Stay behind us."
The children obeyed instantly. Alan sprinted forward toward the call.
It was coming closer rapidly -- a psychic call from a mind that smacked undeniably of youth. Alan ran, Linley close beside him, the three children panting along in the rear. They plunged recklessly through the undergrowth as the mind drew nearer with surprising rapidity. The call was awful -- a cry of mindless terror, and behind him he heard one of the twins sobbing in sympathy.
"Quiet!" Alan stopped, grabbing Linley's arm. "He's close -- right over there, about 300 meters."
"I hear 'em," his partner said. "How many chasin' him?" Mark's accent had clearly been forgotten for the moment.
"About six or seven, I think. They'll pass us in a minute."
"Gotcha. Kids, get over there an' hide."
Again the children obeyed without question. Children of the Terran Underground were taught from babyhood to obey orders and ask no questions when an emergency arose. Mark and Alan concealed themselves behind a clump of bushes, blasters in hand.
"It's the Patrol, all right," Alan whispered.
"Figured it was. Any Jils?"
"I'm not sensing any. Of course, he might --" Alan extended his mind probe farther and then withdrew it quickly. "Yeah, I sense him now. Quite a ways off, though."
"Here comes our psychic."
The runner passed them. It was a boy. Alan saw that much but made out no details. The child moved like a wraith on swift, soundless feet, and close behind him came the crash of boots in the underbrush. The patrolmen thundered past an instant later. Alan counted six. As the last one passed, he stepped from the underbrush, Mark beside him. Linley's weapon cracked. One of the men fell with a scream, clutching his shoulder. The others halted in mid-flight, spinning back to face their attacker, their hands reaching for their weapons.
"Freeze it!" Linley barked.
Hands froze with weapons half-drawn as the men saw the two blasters centered on them.
"You," Mark said, "pull out that blaster and drop it. Now you, buddy ... an' now you --"
One by one, the blasters thumped to the ground, then lifted and floated toward Alan, settling to the ground at his feet.
"Now, toss the helmets over here," Mark directed, his blaster never wavering. "You first, Sarge."
One by one, the helmets followed the blasters. Alan switched off the communicators with telekinesis, continuing to cover the men as Mark stunned them methodically.
"Okay, that does it," he said. "You take care of cuffing them while I go get the boy. Better put a bandage on that guy's arm."
Mark didn't make the obvious comment. "Hurry up before he gets away," was all he said.
The boy was still running and his mind still cried out for help but he was tiring now, beginning to stumble, and after a few minutes Alan came up with him. The boy looked back, despair written on his features, and turned, at bay. In one hand he clutched a knife.
Alan stopped, panting a little. "It's okay. I won't hurt you."
Raw waves of terror, combined with the wordless cry for help, continued to issue from the boy. He gave no indication that he had even heard Alan's attempt at reassurance. He clutched the knife and his grip on it, coupled with his half-crouch, made it plain that he was someone who was not only familiar with the weapon but quite prepared to use it.
"Take it easy," Alan tried again. "My partner and I took care of the 'trols. I'm Alan Westover. Do you understand? Alan Westover, of the Terran Underground. I'm not going to hurt you."
For the slow count of ten, there was no response. Then the boy's tense face quivered and the knife hand dropped to his side. His shields went up.
"Terran Underground?" he whispered. "You're Alan Westover?"
"Yes," he said. "You're safe now. Come here."
The boy hesitated, clearly unsure. He was probably about nine or ten, Alan thought, although given that he was a psychic, he might be a little older than he looked, slender and wiry with an unruly mop of reddish-blond hair, bright blue eyes and a generous sprinkling of freckles. He was clad in what appeared to be animal skins, stitched tightly together to form crude breeches and shirt. His feet were bare.
Alan tried again. "What's your name?"
"Scotty."
"Scotty. And your last name?"
"Pinks." Abruptly the boy's chin quivered and he began to cry -- no sound, but tears welled from his eyes to trace their way slowly down his cheeks, leaving streaks in the dirt.
Alan went toward him, speaking soothingly. "It's okay, Scotty. You're safe now."
The boy shook his head but made no move to retreat. Alan put a hand on his shoulder, carefully removed the knife from his hand and then put an arm around him. "Where are your parents?" he asked.
The boy drew a long, sobbing breath. "They got 'em."
"The 'trols?"
"Those guys that were chasing me. And a ... it must have been a Jilectan. I've never seen one before, but it sure wasn't a Terran!"
"Big, tall, slender guy with blond hair?"
"Yes! And six fingers on his hands, and all covered with jewels and fancy clothes, like a *woman*!"
"Okay," Alan said. "Are your parents psychics, Scotty?"
"Dad is!" the boy sobbed. "And Mama's wanted. They almost got her once -- they almost got both of 'em once, and this time they'll --" He broke down. "An' Mama's gonna have a baby, too!"
"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
"No."
"Okay," Alan said. "I want you to come with me. If more 'trols come around, we don't want you anywhere nearby." He took the boy's hand and began to lead him back toward the spot where he had left Mark and the children. "My friends and I are going to try to rescue your mom and dad. How long ago did the Jil pick them up?"
"About -- about twenty minutes, I think."
"How did you get away?"
"I'd been fishing. I ... felt funny and headed back home, and I saw the 'trols and the Jilectan go into the cabin. I heard Mama scream and Dad went running in. The Jil saw me an' told his 'trols to go get me. I ran, and they chased me."
Twenty minutes, Alan thought. The prisoners would have been whisked away by now. "Look, we'll find out where they are. The Underground has connections. Here's Mark."
Linley was coming toward them out of the underbrush. Scotty flinched at the sight of him. Alan put an arm around the boy's shoulders. "It's okay, Scotty. This is my partner, Mark Linley."
The three children appeared behind Mark, staring at the newcomer.
"And this," Alan continued, " is my son, Marky, and Mark's daughters, Jill and Jennifer. Guys, this is Scotty Pinks. His parents were just taken by the Jils."
"Let's get out of here," Mark said. "I'll call for transport." He glanced meaningfully at young Marky. "Looks like our camping trip's going to have to be postponed to a little later date." He pressed the button on his chronometer. "Lawson to Eldridge."
"Eldridge to Lawson!" The response was immediate. "We're coming for you. Are you all right?"
"Yes. Do you know our situation?"
"No, but we have an emergency here, and we need you.
"We have an emergency, too. Do you have out location?"
"Yessir. Go back to the lake. ETA seven minutes."
"Got it." Mark cut transmission. "Come on; let's move."
**********
tbc
