Hunters Run Page 0,49

something; made some joke or crack or comment that had driven them out to the alley. Had it been over the woman? It seemed like perhaps it had. He remembered the alley, the knife, the blood changing colors under the shifting light, but before that, things were missing and out of focus. He didn't know how to tell if that was a result of being drunk or the unformed nature of his new alien-built brain.

Why did you kill him?

The question seemed better and better all the time.

In the northern sky, great clouds gathered, piling up white and gray and yellow. Green balloons - the hydrogen-bladdered plants they called sky-lilies - dotted the clouds, moving in slow, lazy whorls where the high, thin winds caught them and made them tumble like jellyfish in the sea. They were a sure sign of coming weather. Ramon saw flashes of lightning beneath the cloudbank's belly, but it was too far to hear the thunder. It would rain, but not here. Wherever the other Ramon was now, at least he wouldn't need to worry about getting soaked. How strange it must be for the other Ramon - hurt, alone, unaware that there was someone else now who knew about the aliens and was plotting to keep him alive and free. Ramon imagined his twin out there, hiding under the leaves, possibly even watching the bone-white box make its wide arcing path through the air.

Frightened. The other Ramon would be frightened. And pissed off. Frightened not only because of what he'd found and the hunt in which he was now the prey, but also from being so alone - so isolated. There was a difference between isolation and solitude. With the van and his supplies, he'd enjoyed solitude. Thinking he was the only man north of Fiddler's Jump with no way to call for help, sleeping in improvised shelters, and fleeing an inscrutable alien civilization - that was different. He tried to imagine himself in that place. He tried to think how he would feel.

He'd want to kill the pinche alien. And he knew that was right, because sitting here next to the thing, that was exactly what he wanted. Ramon sighed. At least the other Ramon didn't have this thing stuck in his neck.

Maneck shuddered, the yunea coming to a sudden halt in midair. Ramon's attention snapped to the alien. Its quills were as agitated as grass in a high wind; its arms seemed to fidget with each other and with nothing. Ramon felt a deep sense of dread bloom in his belly. Something had happened.

"You got something?" he asked.

"The man has been nearby. Recently. You were correct in your interpretation of his flow. You are an apt tool."

"Where is he?"

Maneck didn't answer. The yunea began to sway slowly back and forth as if hung from the sky by a rope. Ramon stood up, the slats of the floor biting into the soft, uncallused soles of his feet. His heart was racing, though he couldn't say what it was he hoped or feared would happen. The sahael pulsed once and went quiet again.

"Where is he?" Ramon repeated, and this time, Maneck turned to him.

"He is not present," the alien rumbled. "You will interpret this."

The yunea shifted, sloping down through the air. Ramon stumbled and sat back down. The leafy canopy parted, and a long, wide meadow came into view. Great flat stones - granite, from the look of them - lay among the grasses and wildflowers. And at the side of one of them, something fluttered. Ramon squinted, fighting to make it out. A branch or a stick had been driven into the soil at the great stone's edge, and a rag had been tied to the top, like a banner. The cloth was dirty and pale, with darker stains. His shirt. It was the rest of Ramon's shirt, tied by its one remaining sleeve.

"What is the significance of this object?" Maneck asked.

"Fuck if I know," Ramon said. "Maybe it's a flag of surrender? Could be that he wants to talk."

"If he wishes to converse, why would he not be present?"

"You shot his finger off!"

Maneck went silent. The yunea made a slow circuit of the strange flag. Ramon sucked at his teeth. It had to have been put there to get their attention. And yet the idea of surrender fit poorly with Ramon's intuition. Ramon Espejo would not want to surrender. The yunea hovered over the stone, lowering itself slowly toward the ground. Ramon imagined