The Descent

Later  Ali  would  say  her  contrition.  For  the  moment  she  was  too  full  of  fury  at  him and just wanted to knock him over.  It  took an effort to  turn  away  from  him.  She  went over  to the beheaded animal. Surprisingly little blood came out of the neck  stem.  Next to it, the other one was bucking wildly, curved  claws grabbing at the air.

The  group's protest  was mild. 'You're a wart,  Montgomery,' one said.

'Get  on  with  it,'  Shoat  said.  'Open  the  thing  up.  Take  your  pictures.  Boil  the  skull. Get  your  answers. Then pack.' He started  humming Willie Nelson: '"We're on  the  road again."'

'Barbaric,' someone muttered.

'Spare  me,'  said  Shoat.  He  pointed  his  knife  at  Ali.  'Our  Good  Samaritan  said  it herself. They're  not house pets. We can't bring them with us.'

'You knew what  I  meant,'  Ali  said  to  Shoat.  'We  have  to  let  them  go.  The  one  that's left.'

The  remaining  creature  had  quit  struggling.  It  lifted  its  head  and  was  attentively smelling them and listening to their voices. The  concentration was unsettling.

Ali waited for the group to ratify  her. No one did. It  was her show alone.

All at once, Ali felt  powerfully  isolated  from  these  people,  estranged  and  peculiar.  It was not a new feeling. She had always  been  a  little  different,  from  her  classmates  as  a child,  from  the  novitiates  at  St.  Mary's,  from  the  world.  For  some  reason,  she  hadn't expected  it here, though.

She  felt  foolish.  Then  it  came  to  her.  They  had  separated  themselves  from  her because they  thought it was her business. The  business  of  a  nun.  Of  course  she  would champion mercy.  It  made her ridiculous.

Now  what?  she  asked  herself.  Apologize?  Walk  away?  She  glanced  over  at  Shoat, who was standing beside Walker, grinning. Damned if she was going to lose to him.

Ali took out her Swiss Army  knife and tried picking open a blade.

'What are you doing?' a biologist asked.

She cleared her throat. 'I'm letting her go,' she said.

'Ah,  Ali,  I  don't  think  that's  the  best  thing  right  now.  I  mean,  the  animal's  got  a broken wing.'

'We  shouldn't  have  caught  it  in  the  first  place,'  she  said,  and  went  on  picking  at  the knife.  But  the  blade  was  stuck.  Her  fingernail  broke  on  the  little  slot.  This  was  going completely against her. She felt the tears  welling in her eyes,  and  lowered  her  head  so the hair would at least curtain out their view.

'You're  in  my  way,'  a  voice  said  behind  the  crowd.  There  was  an  initial  jostling,  and then  the  circle  abruptly  opened  up.  Ali  was  even  more  surprised  than  the  rest  of them. It  was Ike  who stepped  up beside her.

They  had  not  seen  him  in  over  three  weeks.  He  had  changed.  His  hair  was  getting shaggy  and  the  clean  white  shirt  was  gone,  replaced  with  a  filthy  gray  camo  top.  A half-healed wound marked  one  arm,  and  he  had  packed  the  ugly  tear  with  red  ochre. Ali stared  at his arms, both of  them  covered  with  scars  and  markings  and  –  along  the inside of one forearm – printed text,  like cheat notes.

He had lost or hidden his pack, but the shotgun and knife were  in  place,  along  with  a pistol  that  had  a  silencer  on  it.  He  was  wearing  the  bug-eyed  glacier  glasses,  and smelled  like  a  hunter.  His  shoulder  came  against  her,  and  the  skin  was  cool.  In  her relief, ever  so slightly, Ali leaned against that sureness.

'We were  starting to wonder if you'd gone country again,' Colonel Walker said.

Ike  didn't answer him. He took the pocketknife from Ali's hand and flipped the  blade open. 'She's right,' he said.

He bent over  the remaining animal and, in an undertone  that  only  Ali  could  hear,  he said  something  soothing,  but  also  formal,  an  address  of  some  sort.  Almost  a  prayer. The  animal grew  still, and Ali pried up a piece of the cord for Ike  to cut.

Someone said, 'Now we'll see if these  things can really  fly.'

But Ike  didn't cut the cord. He gave  a quick nick to the animal's jugular vein.  Gagged with wire, the small mouth gulped for air. Then it was dead.

Ike  straightened and faced the group. 'No live catches.'

Without a second thought, Ali balled her  fist  and  clipped  him  on  the  shoulder,  for  all the good it did. It  was like  slugging  a  horse,  he  was  so  hard.  The  tears  were  streaking her face. 'Why?' she demanded.

He folded her knife and solemnly returned  it. 'I'm sorry,'  she heard him whisper, but not  to  her.  To  Ali's  astonishment,  he  was  speaking  to  what  he'd  just  killed.  Then  he straightened and faced the group.

'That was a waste  of life,' he said to them.

'Spare me,' said Walker.

Ike  looked directly  at him. 'I thought you knew some things.'