Ben Dover's Arc

Chapter 20 of 150

They walked south through low hills. Ben carried the split crate against his chest. The broken creature inside had stopped closing its eye. Small pieces of it kept working loose. A claw fell out at the first stream. A scale the size of a coin dropped near a fallen log. Each time, Ben stopped and put the piece back in the crate. Each time, the creature weighed a little less. By midday the crate rattled with loose parts. The creature's chest ground softer. Ben set the crate on a stump. "You're coming apart." "I know," it said. Its voice was a scrape now. Anita looked in. "If it crumbles before we reach the others, it doesn't count. We carried nothing." Justin pressed his ear to the crate. "No hum. It never had one. It's not a relic. It's just what's left of the guard." Ben's stomach dropped. He had been carrying it like a piece. He had told himself the count was safe. It was not. "I need to hold together for one more day," the creature said. "After that I am dust. Get me somewhere the set can hold me." They were still hours from any place with walls. Ben looked at the crate. The boards were split. Every step shook another chip loose. A figure dropped from a rock shelf above the path and landed in a crouch three feet from Justin. Tape ran up one leg from ankle to thigh. She stood without a sound and looked at the crate. Ben had never seen her before. "Crystal," she said. "I saw you from the ridge. Your box is leaking." "Pieces," Ben said. "Not sound." She looked in the crate. "It won't last the hill." "We know." She unwrapped a strip of tape from her calf. Then another. She held them out. "Wrap the crate. Then wrap it. Tight. It stops falling apart if nothing can fall." Anita took the tape. She and Ben bound the crate top to bottom, then across, then across again. The creature shifted inside and went still. Ben lifted it. The rattle was gone. "Which way are you going," Crystal said. Not a question. "South. Three more to find." "There's a gap two ridges down. A jump. Save you a day." She looked at his boots. "You won't make it. Go around." She turned and climbed back up the rock without waiting. Ben held the taped crate against his ribs. It felt solid. The creature's voice came through the boards, thin. "Still here." "Still here," Ben said. He looked at Anita. "Three relics left. And this." He tapped the crate. "It counts if it lasts." "Then it has to last," Anita said. They moved south again, slower now, Ben carrying the taped bundle like a child. The count held at twelve. For one more day.