Hunters Run Page 0,69

something - knocked him out, drugged him. He didn't remember much about that part. Then he'd been imprisoned in a tank until they pulled him out and told him to go hunting. It was a simple enough story to remember, and not so far from the truth that he'd be likely to get caught flatfooted. And the other Ramon would likely sympathize. He talked about the explosion that had ruined the yunea, the forced march, the attack by the chupacabra, and his own escape. He pretended to be amazed when the man explained the strategy behind the flatfur corpses. The delight the other took in his own cleverness started to become annoying. If Ramon didn't nod or make appreciative noises at the right moment, his twin glared at him.

The whole thing was a manipulation from start to finish. And it seemed to work. When Ramon explained how he needed to be away from civilization, that the comfort offered by friends was as painful and humiliating as being mocked, the man nodded to himself. And when the tale was finished, he didn't comment on it. He wouldn't. It wasn't the sort of thing men did.

"Sleep in shifts?" the man asked.

"Sure," Ramon said. "Probably better that way. I'll take first. I'm not tired."

It was a lie. He was deeply weary, but he'd had the period of unconsciousness that was almost like sleep after he'd pulled himself from the river. The other Ramon hadn't even had that. And anyway, it was best to do the sorts of things that a banker from Amadora would do to ingratiate himself to his rescuer.

The man shrugged and held out his field knife. Ramon hesitated for a moment, then took it. The slightly sticky feel of the leather grip, the balanced weight. It was familiar, and yet different than he remembered it. A moment's consideration told him that it was his body that had changed; he'd never held it without calluses on his hands. The other man misread his expression.

"It's not much," the man said. "It's all that we've got. Won't fight off a chupacabra or redjackets, but ..."

"No trouble," Ramon said. "Thanks."

The man grunted, lay down, and turned his back to the fire. Ramon tested the heft of the knife again, growing used to it in his new hands. These unlikely companions he traveled with - men and aliens - seemed to be pretty comfortable handing him knives. Maneck had done it because it knew it was safe. The man had done it because he assumed Ramon was an ally. It was a mistake he would have made himself. Obviously.

Ramon peered into the darkness, careful not to let the light of their modest cook fire blind him to the shadows, and considered his options. The man had accepted him, for the time being. But it was a long way to Fiddler's Jump, and if what Maneck had said was true, Ramon would grow to more closely resemble his old self before they got there. Sooner or later, the man would figure out that something was wrong. And even if he didn't, Ramon didn't know what he'd do when they got back to the colony. A judge would be hard-pressed to accept that he was the real, legal Ramon Espejo. And the Enye might well decide that he should die along with Maneck's people. Nothing good would come from two Ramons walking out of the bush together.

The smart thing to do would be to kill the man. He had a knife, his twin was snoring and wounded. One quick slice to the neck, and the problem would be gone. He'd make his way south, resume his life, and the other man's bones would never be found. It was what needed to happen.

And yet, he couldn't do it.

Under what circumstances do you kill? Maneck's question echoed in his memory. Ramon settled down for the long, slow hours of his watch and found himself less and less able to answer the question.

At first light, they went back to the work of building the raft. Ramon retied the cane floats, his two hands cinching them tighter than his twin could manage. They considered how many branches they'd need to finish the structure. It was a quick, easy negotiation. Ramon and the other man approached the problem the same way, came to the same conclusions. The only real difference was in his twin's refusal to give over a larger share of the work. It made sense that the uninjured man