Guns of Mars 78
A Martian action-adventure by The Legend Chuck Dixon
CHAPTER 24.1
The fascii trooped away from the rim of the basin as the first milky rays of sunlight beamed down to touch the water.
The bounty man lay prone to spy over the lip of the terrace, watching as the last of the hideous plants shambled its way out through the gap and into the daylight of the crater beyond. Only when they were all gone to root under the baking sun did he descend the stairs to the ground level.
There he found his goods, his rifle and waterskin, where he left them on the tiles of the entry chamber. By some miracle the plant men had not sensed his last hunk of thoat beef bundled in rags inside his saddle pouch. He took a long drink from the pool before filling his skin. After that he allowed himself two hearty bites of meat.
If he couldn’t find some solid nourishment in the next few days, he would die with an empty belly and full bladder.
He wondered what the meat of the fascii might taste like until he dimly recalled that their flesh was toxic. Even boiling would not remove the poisons. It was just as well as he could not imagine a way in which he might cull one of the monster plants without bringing the entire crop down upon him.
The edge of his hunger dulled for now, he decided to deal with his other pressing issue. Lack of sleep was as sure a way to death as lack of sustenance. He would need to secure a safe sleeping quarters, barricaded from the fascii or any other predator who might sniff him out in the night.
By the light of full morning coming down through the apertures, he did a more determined search of the rooms that lined the terrace all around. In one of them he found what had probably been a tabletop in its day. It was a rectangular slab of malachite that lay half buried in a heap of moldering detritus. He dragged it to a room deeper in the warren of dwellings and chose a room with an entrance only a bit more narrow than the tabletop was wide. After shifting it inside he set it in upright in place and found that it covered the opening securely.
This was to be his home, his fortress through the night. He saw that it even had what amounted to a natural chimney in its high ceiling, a natural flue that would allow him to have a fire to warm his quarters against the cold desert nights.
He spent the remainder of the morning clearing the debris from the room. After tossing the bulkier rubbish into a neighboring room, he did his best to sweep out the corners with an improvised mop of bundled cloth tied to the end of his carbine butt. He found what might have been a standing ceramic basin or commode in one of the rooms. This he brought to his chamber and filled it with stones until it was weighted but not so heavy that he could not shift it. This would secure the door against the jamb at night. It would not hold against a determined assault but would give him time to awaken.
His most fervant hope was that the malachite door would appear to be only another section of wall to any dull-witted fascii that might wander up here. And the plant creatures were really the only threat he could foresee. Their presence had long ago scared off any other marauders that might sniff him out.
As he completed his labor he felt his stomach growl. There was a pinching sensation, a twinge, that told him he was moving past mere hunger and into the realm of starvation. He need to find a source of meat and soon.
Special Note: GUNS OF MARS is now available in a hardcover edition. It is available at Amazon and at NDM Express.
