I didn’t flatter myself that it saw four boys as a threat, but all Many-Eyed fear fire, and Harry’s torch was a good size for threatening. Harry moved to my right side while Nod and Fog stayed behind.
If it seemed like the creature would get around Harry and me, I wasn’t going to wait until Nod and Fog took out its eyes with slingshots. I was going to grab that torch and chase it off the cliff, Peter’s rules be damned. A giant monster wasn’t going to eat all the boys even if Peter did think one was as good as another.
The Many-Eyed took some tentative steps toward us, hissing through its long fangs all the while. I judged that it was a juvenile, not fully grown for all that it seemed so big on the rock shelf. The moonlight showed clearly that it didn’t have the silvery-grey fur that developed in adulthood; nor did it have the extensive scarring that resulted from the merciless fighting for food. There were always more Many-Eyed than could possibly be fed, given the astounding number of babies that spilled out of their egg sacs.
Only a young one, I reasoned, would have strayed so far from the rest of the pack, or been so foolish as to climb a cliff. Really, it could have fallen off a precipice and died before it ever reached us. I wondered what had pushed it on to even try.
And a juvenile would be distracted by the deer meat, and frightened by the fire. Or so I told myself.
I tossed the offal at the Many-Eyed, as far as I could throw, and as I’d hoped the deer guts skidded past its legs, close to the edge of the cliff.
It clicked its fangs together, and a little venom dripped off the edge of one, sizzling on the ground. You didn’t want to get that poison on you. It burned right through to your bone. I knew—I had several small round scars on my left arm where a Many-Eyed had splattered me years before.
The Many-Eyed looked toward the pile of blood and guts. I waited, hoping it would accept the offal as an offering and leave. That’s what an adult would do.
Its dozens of pupilless eyes rolled back and forth above its fangs, almost like it was considering. Harry raised the torch threateningly and the beast took two or three steps backward, resuming its hissing.
The creatures didn’t have any kind of noses that we could see, but they seemed to smell things all the same. It turned its bloated body toward the offal. I blew out my breath, only half aware that I’d been holding it.
When I was on my own there was no fear, only the sure sense of what needed to be done. But when the other boys were around—especially new ones
(especially Charlie)
I found myself worried on their behalf, and part of my brain always taken up in their safety. Which, I suppose, was one of the reasons why Peter told me to stop babying them. He never worried about them, not for a minute. Nor about me, come to think of it.
Suddenly the Many-Eyed turned back toward us, having ignored our offering, and made a high-pitched sound like a scream.
Fog gasped behind me and swallowed it just as fast, and I knew he wanted to scream too.
I stepped forward with my left foot and jabbed the knife in my left hand toward the Many-Eyed. I wasn’t trying to hurt it yet, only to make my intentions clear. It reared back, front legs in the air, and screamed again.
Far away, far, far across the plains, came an answering cry, so faint I almost thought I imagined it.
It’s calling for help, I thought.
And then I imagined dozens of Many-Eyed crossing the plains, climbing the cliff, surrounding the boys and wrapping them in silk and dragging them back to their colony to feed their babies.
“No,” I said, and charged it.
I hadn’t given any indication to the others what I would do, and Nod or Fog (sometimes it’s hard to tell who is who) shouted after me to stop.
His voice barely penetrated the tidal roar of blood in my ears. I knew the belly was the most vulnerable part, and I didn’t want to be within biting distance of those fangs.
The Many-Eyed’s shape made them seem awkward—that fat body balanced on all those legs—but they were quick as hell and could turn faster than you could blink. They couldn’t twist, though, so if I got behind it I might be able to slide under it before it realized what was happening. At least, that was what I intended.
“Harry, get that fire as close to it as you can!” I shouted.
And as I said that the Many-Eyed charged at Harry, right at the fire, screeching all the way.
For a moment we all froze, for none of us had ever seen a Many-Eyed run toward fire before.
I thought, This one is broken. It goes to fire instead of away from it. It climbs mountains.
I needed it to be broken, to be different from all the others, because if it wasn’t, then the Many-Eyed were developing new and frightening behaviors—and those behaviors didn’t bode well for us boys.
Then it knocked the torch aside with its leg and bit down on Harry’s shoulder, sinking its fangs into his chest. Harry screamed, screamed and screamed, and his scream unfroze my brain.
Blood spurted and venom poured, burning his skin wherever it splashed and spilling into his muscles and bones.
The belly, the belly, I thought, and knew I wouldn’t have another chance. It was distracted by Harry but it wouldn’t be for long. Maybe, maybe, I could still save him despite all the blood and the poison and the way his scream was fading away like he was waving good-bye.
I ran behind it, skidded to a stop near its stinger and leapt forward with my arms in front of me, belly down, sliding underneath its body.
It smelled of foul death there, so rank I nearly choked on it. I flipped to my back so I could see the bloated mass shaking above me as it killed Harry.
I slid the blade into the Many-Eyed’s belly, jerking the blade parallel to its legs to make a long slice in the thick hairy skin just like I did when I slid down a pirate ship’s sail holding on to the handle of my knife.
The Many-Eyed reared back on its legs and there was a terrible rending noise as its fangs tore free from Harry’s body. I rolled free just as hot liquid poured out of the slash I’d made. It stung where it touched my hand and arm and shoulder—I wasn’t quite quick enough to escape without getting burned.
The thing screamed again, that terrible high-pitched, inhuman sound. I thought I’d finished it, but it wasn’t quite done yet.
I rolled up to my feet, my knife in front of me, dimly aware that one of the twins had run to Harry and was dragging him toward the cave.
The Many-Eyed turned to me now—all of those red eyes mad and rolling, Harry’s blood coating its venom-spitting fangs, and its own blood running in angry rivers all over the rock shelf.
If I lunged for it, my moccasins would slide in the mess. They might even slide me straight under those sharp, sharp teeth.
The creature pounded all its legs on the ground again and I knew it was going to charge me. I’d gotten turned about while underneath it and now I was essentially in a corner with the cave wall on one side and the cliff face on the other.
There was a little jutting bit of rock shelf about waist high in front of me that made a kind of momentary shield, but it wasn’t enough to stop the Many-Eyed; nor was there enough of it for me to crawl into and hide.
Besides, I’d never hide while it went for the rest of the boys.
The Many-Eyed ran at me, though I don’t know how with its guts spilling everywhere like that. I didn’t have much space, but I got a running start and leapt onto the rock shelf. I lost the temporary protection of the shelf and was completely exposed atop it, but I was only there for a moment before leaping again.