Gunther Muck's Arc

Chapter 2 of 6

Gunther crawled along the trench floor until the drop bowl was far behind. The battery inside ticked warm. The antenna poked out at an angle Gunther could not fold flat. Every scrape of metal on ceramic sounded loud. Gunther needed a new hiding place, and fast, before the scavenger came down the slope with her jar. The trench opened onto a flat stretch of packed grit. A car sat there on four fat tires. It was built from teeth — huge white molars fused together, roots showing where the wheel wells cut in. The windshield was smeared with something pink. Gunther froze behind one root and listened. A bear sat in the driver's seat. Broad shoulders, thick brown fur, one paw draped over the wheel like a man waiting on a customer. A green moon-lamp hung from the mirror and threw sick light across the dash. The bear's small eyes found Gunther at once. "Little friend," the bear said. His voice was low and patient. "You're carrying too much metal for a body that small. I can smell the strain." Gunther said nothing. Gunther could not talk yet. The knot in Gunther's middle ticked faster. The bear reached into the glove box and set six small glass bottles on the hood. Each one caught the green light. "Oils," he said. "Pressed from root and bark. Rub one in and your seams soften. Rub two and you grow smooth. A crud your size, hunted like you're hunted — you need smooth." Gunther understood then. The bear had been waiting for something exactly like Gunther. The pink smear on the windshield was juice. The same juice that had painted the scavenger's claim. "One bottle," the bear said. "Price is the battery in your gut. Fair trade. You keep the antenna, the lens, the wire. You lose the ticking thing that shows up on every scanner within a mile." Gunther weighed it. The battery was half of what Gunther had eaten. Half of tonight's growth. Without it, Gunther would shrink back toward hiding size. Without it, Gunther would be days further from a cockpit. But the ticking was loud. The scavenger had a partner somewhere, and now the bear knew where Gunther sat. Gunther rolled backward. Slow at first, then faster, back into the mouth of the trench. The bear did not chase. The bear only laughed, soft and sure. "Come back when the jar closes on you," he called. "Price goes up after dark." Gunther kept the battery. Gunther kept the ticking. Gunther pressed deep into a seam where the trench wall had cracked and waited for the sound to stop giving Gunther away. It did not stop. Somewhere above, boots crunched on ceramic, and the crunching was coming down.