Evolution

She grabbed a couple of the flakes and crammed them into her mouth. She chewed and chewed at the bits of banana, as if extracting every bit of flavor from them, before finally swallowing them. She must never have tasted anything so sweet, he thought.

Or maybe it was just that she was starving. He had set the trap a couple of days before; she might have been here for forty-eight hours already. All the shit and piss, the way the fur on her legs was matted and stained, indicated that too.

As she ate he got a good look at the foot that had been caught in the snare. It was a simple loop snare, meant for the heads of rabbits and hares. In her efforts to get free she had pulled the snare tighter — it had worked just as it had been designed — and it had cut so deeply into her leg that it had made a grisly, bloody mess of her flesh, and he thought he could see the white of bone in the wound.

What now? He could slug her and take her back to the base camp. But this wasn’t a prey animal, a rabbit or a hare; it wasn’t some interesting specimen, like the huge half-way-flightless parakeet Sidewise had caught stalking the fringe of a stagnant pond. This was a person, no matter what she looked like. And, he reminded himself, those stretch marks told him she had at least one kid out there waiting for her.

"Did I come all this way, across a thousand fucking years, to make the same mess of your life as I’ve made of mine? I don’t bloody think so," he muttered. "Pardon me." And without hesitating he leapt on her.

It was another wrestling match. He got her pinned to the ground, face down, her arms under her, his buttocks in the small of her back. He used his Swiss Army knife to cut the snare wire, and prized the loop out of the bloody gouge it had dug. Then he used up more of his precious supplies to clean away the dirt and dried blood and pus with antiseptic fluid — he had to pick strands of brown hair out of the scabs — and to apply sealant and cream to the wound. Maybe she would leave the stuff on long enough for the wound to get itself disinfected.

The moment he released her she was gone. He glimpsed a figure, upright and lithe, shimmering through the long grass toward the trees, limping but moving fast even so.

It was already late afternoon. They weren’t supposed to be alone in the dark, away from base: Ahmed’s standing orders. He longed to follow the girl into the green mysteries of the denser forest. But he knew he must not. Regretfully he gathered up his gear and set off back to the base camp.

Snowy was the last to join the group that evening.

They had decided to settle close to a lake a few kilometers from the ruined town. The site was in the lee of a compact, cone-shaped hill — apparently artificial, maybe an Iron Age barrow, or maybe just a spoil heap of some kind.

Ahmed made them gather round the stump of a fallen tree, where he sat, a bit grandly. Snowy wanted to tell the others of his encounter, of what he had found. But the mood wasn’t right. So he just sat down.

Moon had grown increasingly withdrawn as the weeks had worn away; now she just sat cross-legged before Ahmed, her eyes averted. But she was the center of everything, as always, all the wordless maneuvering. Sidewise had his usual detached dreaminess, but he was sitting facing Moon, and Snowy saw how his gaze strayed over the curve of her hip, the centimeters of calf she showed above her boot. Ahmed himself sat beside the girl, raised up on his tree stump, as if he owned her.

Bonner was the one whose lust for Moon showed most nakedly. He sat awkwardly, muscles tensed, with a great stripe of mud splashed across his face, a hunter’s camouflage marking. He looked like an animal himself, Snowy thought, as if the last bits of his training were barely holding him together.

They were breaking up, Snowy saw, drifting apart, with great fault lines running through their intense little set of relationships. There was hardly anything left of the timid group of Navy fliers who had huddled in the ruined church that first night, chomping on their rations. They might kill each other over Moon, if Moon didn’t kill them first.

And Ahmed, their leader, was aware of none of this. Ahmed, in fact, was smiling. "I’ve been thinking about the future," he said.

Sidewise gave a muffled groan.

"I mean, the further future," Ahmed said. "Beyond the next few months, even the next few years. However we get through the next winter, times are going to be hard for our children."

At the talk of children, Snowy cast a glance at Moon. She was glaring at her hands, her nested fingers.