They continued their game while I lay there thinking. I was beginning to feel the slightest bit better, but decided to continue the malingering act. After about ten minutes I sat up.
"I have to take a piss," I announced.
Another argument ensued. Geof allowed that he didn't care if I wet my breeches. Chubby protested that it was his cot, and he damned well wasn't going to lose a perfectly good mattress. They bickered back and forth.
Finally Geof slammed the deck of cards down on the tabletop. "All right, you take him out if you want to play nursemaid!"
Chubby rose from the table and withdrew a small biolume torch from his hip pocket.
"Wait'" Geof said. "I'll do it. When he asks you to shake it for him, you'll probably give him the gun so you can use both hands."
He got up and pointed the slug-thrower at me.
"All right, you. Out the door, stand on the porch and let fly"
"I gotta do more than that," I said.
Geof scowled, thinking it over. You can't argue with nature. "Right," he grumbled. He took the torch from Chubby, crossed to the front door, opened it and gestured me through with the gun. "March," he said.
I made it seem quite an effort to get up, which it was to a degree. I hobbled to the door and went out.
Outside, he illuminated a path through the trees. I took it; Geof followed at a close distance. Perhaps a little too close for his own good. The path ended in a little grove wherein stood an outdoor facility of the kind I had not seen since we knocked down the one on our farm on Vishnu. This specimen was even more primitive. Ours had been designed so that the stored biomass could be easily retrieved for use as fertilizer and energy.
I stopped short, feigning indignation. "I gotta use that?"
"So sorry, Your Royal Highness. Get moving." He shoved me, then edged up until he was walking at my side, holding the.gun on me as we drew up to the door.
Geof was a tough guy, but not very bright. In fact, it seemed as though he were making it too easy for me. He stood at an angle to the door such that… Well, I'd give it a try.
He held the barrel of the gun almost to my head. "I want the door wide open, now."
I took hold of the crudely carved wooden handle and pulled. The door swung easily. "Right," I said, and yanked the door back hard. It hit his other hand and knocked the torch from it.
The momentary distraction was all I needed. I reached out with my left hand, ducking to the right, and twisted the gun from his hand, almost taking his trigger finger with it. Luckily, the weapon didn't discharge. There had been no scuffle. In the space of a second or two, I owned the gun and Geof stood there in shock, nursing his reddened index finger. I stopped, picked up the torch and played the beam on his face.
"Well, Geof, who are you working for?"
He said nothing, shielding his eyes.
"I want to know who you're working for, and if you don't tell me, I'll shoot you dead now."
"Moore," he said quickly. "Zack Moore. I didn't―"
"That's all I wanted to know."
"Please don't shoot me."
"I'll consider it. I've met your type… Christ, I don't know how many times." I shook my head and clucked. "Why do you exist? It's always baffled me."
He declined to answer.
"At the heart of great mysteries," I said, "silence, always silence." I sighed. "Okay, Geof, inside."
He didn't move.
"Inside."
He entered the shack and turned around.
"Down the hole."
"What!"
"Another mystery, Geof. Always wanted to know if it could be done."
"You're insane."
"Possibly. Get down that hole. Now."
"I'll never fit down that"
"Try."
"I won't!"
"Geof, remember what I said in the cabin? I'll kill you right now, and then stuff you down. Climb down, and I might not shoot you."
"You'll have to shoot me."
"Suit yourself." I stepped nearer, to make sure of my aim. "Wait" He looked. "It's too small."
"Do your best."
He did his best. After perhaps five minutes, he was hung up around his rib cage.
"I'm stuck!"
"You're skinny enough. Try harder. Exhale."
The shoulders presented a real problem, but with a few suggestions as to how to maneuver and a little brute force applied with my hoot, he managed to slide his left arm down between his side and the rim of the hole.
"Uh!… Uh!… God!"
"A little more. C'mon, inhale and force it. You can do it, Geof."
After an agonizing minute or so, his left shoulder popped through the hole. I put my hand on top of his head, splayed my fingers, and pushed.
It was a surprisingly long drop. The splash echoed hollowly.
"Geof?
No answer.
I took a different path back to the cabin.
Peering through the small rear window, I saw Chubby making tea, standing by the rusty wood stove. I circled to the front porch and waited by the door.
It didn't take long. He came out the creaky front door and stood on the edge of the porch, looking out into the night.
"Hi, Chubby."
He yelped and jumped a half-meter straight up. Then he turned slowly.
"Look, mate―" he began.
I leveled the gun at him. "I want the truth from you."
He swallowed. "You've got it."
"How long were you supposed to keep me here?"
"Until Zack sent somebody for you."
"How long would that be?"
"I don't know. He just said to keep you quiet for now."
"Okay. How far are we from the Bandersnatch?"
"Not far. Two kilometers, a bit more."
"Which direction?"
He pointed directly opposite the outhouse. "Take that path. When you come to the road, turn left and go about half a kilometer to the fork. Then bear right. It'll take you straight to the Bandersnatch."
"How far from here is the road?"
"About ten minutes at a good pace."
"You two carried me all that way?"
He shook his head. "No, one of the bigger lads slung you over his shoulder."
I stepped toward him.
"Are you sure about the directions?"
He nodded emphatically.
"I won't kill you now," I said coolly, "but if I've found you've steered me wrong, I'll be back."
"I swear it!"'
"By the way, thanks for the water. It was mildly decent of you."
Relief made his face sag. "Well, it's all right, really. Geof is a bit harsh sometimes. He's not" He glanced toward the outhouse worriedly. "What did you do with him?"
"He's having dinner. Tell me, is that huge purple creature standing behind you usually dangerous?"
He laughed, turning around to look. "Don't let that worry you. You'll see all sorts―"
I clipped him with the gun butt and sent him sprawling in the dirt. Then I dragged him back inside. This done, my head was throbbing so violently I thought I was hemorrhaging. I wasn't. That tea sounded like a good idea. I wanted to get moving as soon as possible, but I needed to recover a bit more. I poured boiling water from a rusty saucepan into the teapot and put the lid on. A cross-country trek at night through an alien wilderness would be dangerous, not to say foolish, in my present condition, but I had to get back to the Bandersnatch soon. I was worried about Darla and the others. While it was hard to believe that Moore could, with impunity, detain or abduct six people and an alien, it was possible that he owned this planet and had free rein.
No. I knew whose unseen hand was at work here. Pendergast. The master of the Laputa was a force to be reckoned with in the Outworlds. The ship must have limped into port. Messengers in high-speed roadsters would have been dispatched to get word out that I must be found and my "map" confiscated. Moore must have nabbed Winnie, poor thing. She must be frightened to death. And they'd need Darla to translate. Maybe they'd round everyone else up for good measure.