Hunters Run Page 0,86

enough bodies were thrown out into the void, some few would survive; like seeds strewn over rocks, a handful might find a soil-filled niche. It didn't matter if a thousand died so long as a hundred lived. That must have been what Maneck and its people had felt, throwing themselves at the sky.

Fish putting their faith in the river.

When at last his twin reappeared at the river's edge, he had to shout and wave his arms to wake Ramon from his half drowse. He carried a coil of vine wound over one shoulder, thick as his thigh. Ramon didn't know if this was some plant the man had known of, the knowledge of which simply hadn't returned to his own mind yet, or if it was a lucky discovery - and he didn't care deeply. After a long series of gestures, Ramon understood the man's intentions: he would cast the vine out to Ramon, tied around a small branch. Ramon was then to haul enough of the vine onto the raft to throw the original branch back. When they'd made the double-strand fast to the raft and a tree near the shore, Ramon was to dislodge the raft and let the force of the river work against the constraint of the vines to swing the injured craft to shore. An ideal plan, so long as the vines were strong enough. It occurred to Ramon that the man's standards for the risk might be more forgiving than his own, but there was no better plan.

It took three tries to get the vine across to Ramon and five more to return it to his twin on the riverbank. The man was grinning as he made their improvised rope fast to a tree. Ramon was less sure. But even if the plan only got him nearer the shore, he'd be able to swim the shorter distance. When the man gave the high sign, Ramon began rocking the raft from one side to the other, catching the flowing water from one direction, then another, searching for the combination that would dislodge the float. For long minutes, it seemed the raft was stuck faster than he'd imagined, and then, with a lurch, it came free. Ramon lost his footing as the vine pulled taut, the raft shuddering and tipping. The pile of firewood broke free, branches and twigs spilling into the river and bobbing away into the mist. On his knees, Ramon waited as the raft swung slowly in an arc, the lashed wood groaning and creaking under the unfamiliar strain. The man whooped as the raft touched the muddy ground. Ramon leaped off the side, and together they hauled it up and out of the water.

"Good fucking work, pendejo!" the man said, clapping Ramon's shoulder with his uninjured hand and grinning like an idiot. The roar of the cataract was so loud the man had to shout to be heard. Ramon, half against his will, found himself grinning back.

"I thought there weren't any falls on this river," Ramon shouted.

"There aren't supposed to be," the man agreed. "But this far north, who checks the mapping programs? They missed one."

"Hope they didn't miss any others," Ramon said. "Did you get to scout it out? How bad does it look?"

The man had. The roar and the mist were the products of two drop-offs, one a little more than three meters, the second not quite half again as much. The raft would have been torn to kindling. But after the cataract, the river seemed to be smooth and relatively placid again. The trick would be to carry the raft to the lower river and launch it again from there.

They took the vine and cinched the raft to a tree nearer where it had come to rest, hoping to keep it safe in case of an unexpected rise in the river. Then, together, Ramon and his twin set out into the bush. There were game paths where animals had pushed through to the fresh water, but none of the animals had been hauling a two-man raft. Ramon began to regret they'd made the thing as large as they had. Night fell before they'd discovered a good path, and they set up a makeshift camp.

"It's going to be a real sonofabitch getting that thing down," the man said.

"Yeah," Ramon agreed. "Better than trying to make another one, though. Not much cane this far south."

"Think we can do it? Move the fucking thing?"

In the distance, something howled. It was a fluting,