“Well, what about it?”
“Please observe,” he said. “Illuminate the pit.”
I got down on my hands and knees and shone the flashlight down into the pit, bending down to see between the gratings until my face was pressed against the metal.
The pit seemed huge. The beam of light did not reach the walls. Underneath the grating, seeds lay in a massive heap- many more of them, I was certain, than the ratlike creatures had carried in the day before.
I looked for something that might explain the great importance Hoot attached to the pit, but I failed to find anything.
I got up and flicked out the light. “I don’t see anything too strange,” I told him. “It’s a cache of food. That is all it is. The rats carry the seeds and drop them through the grating.
“Is no cache of food,” Hoot contradicted me. “Is cache of permanent. I look. I stick my looker down into the space between the bars. I wiggle it around. I survey the well. I see that space is tight enclosed. Once seeds get in no way to get them out.”
“But it is dark down there.”
“Dark to you. Not dark to me. Can adjust the seeing. Can see to all sides of space. Can see through seeds to bottom. Can do more than simple eye. Can explore surface closely. No opening. No opening even closed. No way to get them out. Our little harvesters harvest seeds, but for something else.”
I had another look and there were tons of seeds down there.
“Is not only storage place,” Hoot grated at me. “There be several others.”
“What else?” I asked, irritated. “How many other things have you turned up?”
“Is piles of worn-out commodities such as one from which you obtained the wood,” he said. “Is marks upon the floor and walls where furnishings uprooted. Is place of reverence…”
“You mean an altar?”
“I know not of altar,” he said. “Place of reverence. Smell of holy. And there be a door. It leads into the back.”
“Into the back of what?”
“Into outdoors,” he said.
I yelled at him, “Why didn’t you tell me this before?’
“I tell you now,” he said. “I hesitate before in respect of missing person.”
“Let’s have a look at it.”
“But,” said Hoot, “first we search more carefully for lost comrade. We comb, however hopelessly. .”
“Hoot.”
“Yes, Mike.”
“You said he isn’t here. You are sure he isn’t here.”
“Sure, of course,” he said. “Still we look for him.”
“No, we don’t,” I said, “Your word is good enough for me.”
He could see into a darkened bin and know that it was closed. He could do more than see. He didn’t merely see; he knew. He carried each of us in his mind and one of us was gone. And that was good enough. When he said Smith wasn’t here, I was more than willing to agree he wasn’t.
“I know not,” said Hoot. “I would not have you. . .”
“I do,” I said. “Let us find that door.”
He turned about and went pattering off into the darkness and, adjusting the rifle on my shoulder, I followed close behind him. We were walking through an emptiness that boomed back at us at the slightest sound. I looked over my shoulder and saw the tiny gash of light that was the open door in front. It seemed to me that I caught a glimpse of someone moving at the edge of it, but could not be sure.
We went on into emptiness and behind us the sliver of light grew smaller, while above us it seemed that I could feel the very presence of the looming space that went up to the roof. Finally Hoot stopped. I had not seen the wall, but it was there, just a few feet ahead of us. A thin crack of light appeared and grew wider. Hoot was pushing on the door, opening it. It was small. Less than two feet wide and so low that I had to stoop to get through it.
The red and yellow landscape stretched away before me. To either side the dark-red stone of the building made a fence. There were other trees, far off, but I could not see the tree that had been shooting at us. It was blocked off by the structure.
“Can we get that door open again if we go out?” I asked.
Still holding it open, Hoot sidled around and had a look at its outside panel. “Undoubted not,” he said. “Constructed only to be opened from inside.”
I hunted for a small boulder, kicked it out of the ground and rolled it over to the door, wedging it tightly so the door would stay open.
“Come along,” I said. “We’ll have a look. But be sure to stay behind me.”
I headed to my left, walking along the wall. I reached the corner of the building and peered out. The tree was there.
It saw me or sensed me or somehow became aware of me the second I poked my head around the corner, and started shooting. Black dots detached themselves from it and came hurtling toward me, ballooning rapidly as they came.
“Down!” I yelled to Hoot. “Get down!”
I threw myself backwards and against the wall, huddled over the crouching Hoot, burying my face in my folded arms
Out beyond me the seed pods thudded. Some of them apparently struck against the corner of the building. The seeds went whizzing, with dull whistling sounds. One struck me on the shoulder and another took me in the ribs and they did no damage but they stung like fury. Others slammed against the wall above us and went ricocheting off, howling as they spun.
The first burst ended and I half stood up. Before I got straightened, the second burst came in and I threw myself on top of Hoot again. None of the seeds hit me solidly this time, but one grazed the back of my neck and it burned like fire.
“Hoot,” I yelled, “how far can you run?”
“Scramble very rapidly,” he said, “when materials at me are being hurled.”
“Then listen.”
“I hearken most attentively,” said Hoot.
“It’s firing in bursts. When the next burst ends, when I yell, try to make it to the door. Keep close to the wall. Keep low. Are you headed in the right direction?”
“In wrong direction,” said Hoot. “I turn myself around.”
He twisted underneath me.
Another salvo came in. Seeds peppered all around me. One nicked me in the leg.
“Wait,” I said to Hoot. “When you get in tell Miss Foster to get the packs on those hobbies and get them moving, We’re getting out of here.”
Another burst of pods came storming in on us. The seeds rattled on the walls and skipped along the ground. One threw a spray of sand into my face, but this time none hit me.
“Now!” I yelled. Bent low, I raced for the corner, the rifle in my hand, and intensity lever pushed to its final notch. A blizzard of seeds caught me. One banged me on the jaw, another caught me in the shin. I staggered and half went down, then caught myself and went plowing on. I wondered how Hoot was doing, but didn’t have the time to look.
Then I was at the corner of the building and there was the tree, perhaps three miles away-it was hard to judge the distance.
I brought the rifle to my shoulder. What looked like black gnats were swarming from the tree, coming at me, but I took my time. I got my sight and then I pressed the trigger and twitched the rifle downward, sidewise in a slicing motion. The laser beam blinked for a moment, then was gone, and in that instant before the seeds struck, I threw myself flat upon the ground, trying to hold the rifle high so it didn’t absorb the full impact of the fall.
A million fists were hammering at my head and shoulders and I knew what had happened-some of the pods had struck the corner of the building and exploded, showering me with seeds.
I struggled to my knees and looked toward the tree. It seemed to be reeling and, as I watched, began to topple. I wiped the dust out of my eyes and watched as it came farther and farther out of plumb. It fell slowly at first, reluctantly, as If it were fighting to stay erect. Then it picked up speed, coming down out of the sky, rushing toward the ground.
I got to my feet and wiped the back of my neck, and the hand, when it came away, was bloody.
The tree hit the ground and beneath me the earth bounced, as if it had been struck a mighty blow. Above the place where the tree had fallen a geyser of dust and other debris billowed up into the sky.