I was halfway to my feet when something exploded just above my head, not a loud explosion, but rather a muffled thump, and dark red pellets went whizzing through the air and bouncing on the ground.
I didn’t know what was going on, but it was quite apparent that this was not a place to stay. The hobbies might know what was happening and they had headed for the ramp and I was more than willing to do my best to follow. I jerked Sara to her feet and we started running for the ramp.
Off to the right was another thump and more of the dark-red pellets went skittering across the ground, raising little puffs of dust as they bounced along.
“It’s the tree!” cried Sara, gasping for breath. “The tree is throwing things at us!”
I jerked up my head and saw that a number of dark balls were flying through the air above us and they certainly did seem to be coming from the tree.
“Look out!” I yelled at Sara and gave her a push that sent her staggering to the ground, falling there myself. Above us the dark balls were going thump! thump! thump! and the air seemed to be filled with the pellets, whizzing wickedly. One caught me in the ribs and it felt as if a mule had kicked me and another clipped me on the cheek.
“Now!” I yelled at Sara and jerked her to her feet She broke free of my clutching hand and beat me to the ramp. All around us the dull thumps were exploding and the floor of the ramp danced with the bouncing pellets, but ‘we made it up the ramp without being hit and stumbled through the door.
The others all were there, the hobbies huddled in a frightened group and Hoot scurrying up and down in front of them, like a worried sheepdog. Tuck was slumped in his saddle and Smith had quit his crooning, but instead of slumping, he was sitting straight or as straight as his tubbiness would let him, and his face was glowing with a silly sort of happiness that was downright frightening.
Outside the door the dark balls still were plunging in and exploding with their muffled crumps, throwing out sprays of the whizzing pellets that struck and bounced in dancing frenzy all along the ramp.
I took a look at Sara and she was - somewhat mussed. Her natty explorer outfit was wrinkled and dusty and she had a dark smudge across one cheek.
I grinned at her. Through it all, I saw, she’d hung onto her rifle. I wondered if she had it glued to her.
Something small and running very fast went past me and then another one and as the tiny runners burst out onto the ramp I saw they were ratlike creatures. Each of them grabbed one of the bouncing pellets in their mouth, grabbing them even as they bounced, and then they were coming back, with their rodent teeth locked about the pellets.
From the darkness behind us came a rustling sound, interspersed with squeaks, and a second later hundreds of those ratlike creatures were pouring past us, running between our feet, bumping against our legs in their maddened haste, all heading for the ramp and the bouncing pellets.
With the coming of the ratlike horde, the hobbies had scurried to one side, beyond the doorway, to get out of the way. We followed the hobbies. The little scurrying animals paid us no attention. Their only interest were the pellets and they dashed back and forth, fetching and carrying as if their lives depended on it, running into one another, leaping over one another, each one for itself.
Outside the dark balls kept coming in, bursting with dull thumps, continuing to scatter pellets.
Hoot came over beside me, pulled up his feet and collapsed upon his belly. He let his tentacles down upon the floor.
“They harvest food,” he said, “against the coming of the great hunger.”
I nodded. It made sense, of course. The dark balls were pods filled with seeds and this broadcasting of them was the method by which the trees could give them distribution. But they likewise were something more than pods of seed. They could be used as weapons and they had been used on us. As if the tree had been aware of us and once we’d come in range, had opened fire. If the range had been a little shorter and if we’d been trapped out in the open, they could have done us damage. My ribs still ached from the hit I’d taken and there was a little scratch along one cheek that was very tender. We had been extremely lucky that the building had been close.
Sara sat down upon the floor and laid her rifle in her lap.
“You all right?” I asked.
“Tired is all,” she said. “I suppose there is no reason we can’t camp right here.”
I looked around and saw that Tuck had gotten off his hobby, but Smith still was sitting in the saddle, bolt upright, as straight as he could sit, with his head held tall and rigid, twisted a little to one side, as if he were listening. On his face he still wore that idiotic, terrifying happiness.
“Tuck,” I said, “would you and George unload the hobbies. I’ll look around for wood.”
We had a camp stove with us, but there was no sense in using up the fuel if we could rustle wood. And there is, as well, something to be said in favor of a campfire as a thing to sit around and talk.
“I can’t get him down,” said Tuck, almost weeping. “He won’t listen to me. He won’t pay attention.”
“What’s the matter with him? Was he hit?”
“I don’t think so, captain. I think he has arrived.”
“You mean the voice...”
“Right here in this building,” said Tuck. “At one time it might have been a temple. It has a religious look to it.”
From the outside, come to think of it, it had had a churchy look but you couldn’t get much idea of how it looked inside. By the door, with the sunlight slanting from the west, there was plenty of light, but other than that the interior was dark.
“We can’t leave him sitting there all night,” I said. “We’ve got to get him down. You and I together can pull him from the saddle.”
“Then what?” asked Tuck.
“What do you mean then what?”
“We take him down tonight. What do we do tomorrow?”
“Why, hell,” I said, “that’s simple. If he doesn’t snap out of it, we boost him in the saddle. Tie him on so he can’t fall off.”
“You mean you’d cart him off again when be finally had arrived? When he had finally reached the place he’s been yearning toward for a great part of his life?”
“What are you trying to say?” I yelled. “That we should hunker down and squat right here and never leave because this blubbering idiot. . .”
“I must remind you, captain,” Tuck said, nastily, “that it was this blubbering idiot who charted the way for us. If it had not been for him. . .”
“Gentlemen,” said Sara, getting to her feet, “please lower your voices. I don’t know if you realize it, captain, but we may not be leaving here as soon as you might think.”
“Not leaving here,” I said, between my teeth. “What is there to stop us?”
She gestured toward the doorway. “Our friend, the tree,” she said, “has us zeroed in. I’ve been watching. All the stuff he’s throwing at us is landing on the ramp. There aren’t any misses. It would be worth your life to step outside that door. Fast as they are moving and little as they are, those seed-gathering animals are taking casualties,”
I saw that the ramp still seemed alive with the bouncing, dancing seeds and here and there upon it lay tiny bodies, limp and motionless.
“The tree will get tired of it,” I said. “It will run out of energy or out of ammunition.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so, captain. How tall would you say that tree might be. Four miles? Five miles? With foliage from a few hundred feet off the ground to its very top. The spread of the foliage at its widest point close to a mile, perhaps. How many seed pods do you think a tree like that might bear?”