"Don't get friendly with it!" Flint cautioned.
"I'm not!" Jason snapped, still annoyed at Flint's general carelessness. Running and shouting on a hostile alien planet, all for a stupid hat, was generally unwise.
"You're not? Well, now that you're on a first-name basis with a space fox-thing, I don't think you can say you're not pals."
"I'm the one who got your precious hat back," Jason said pointedly.
Jason watched F'faron out of the corner of his eye. The humanoid fox looked back and forth earnestly from one speaker to another, trying to decipher the unknown words.
"Well, if we aren't eating it—" Flint started.
"It has a name," Jason interjected, primarily to prod at Flint's unrelenting enmity towards everything.
"Whatever," Flint said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "If it's not dinner, and I have my hat back, then let's get out of here before something with teeth or a gun finds us."
"Now you're cautious?" Jason said. "Wait a minute."
"What?"
"We are talking to an alien. Aren't you at least a little bit curious?"
"Oh, yeah, good idea, we’ll just talk to him. Do you speak fox?" Flint asked, his voice sardonic. "What does a fox even say?" he muttered, mostly to himself.
"Obviously, I don’t speak fox," Jason said, irritated.
"Then we have bigger problems—Hey!"
While the brothers had been bickering, F'faron had stolen up from behind and was now sniffing Flint's backpack.
"Get back!" Flint spat, and F'faron shied away, scuttling to hide behind Jason. Flint saw its pointed ears just barely peeking around Jason's arm.
"He clearly likes you, Flint," Jason said sarcastically, pushing F'faron from behind him.
"A little space?" Jason requested.
"See just now! All it wants is our food."
"And whose fault is that? Mister, Give Him the Last of Our Rations? I thought you were supposed to be the survivalist."
Flint's jaw bulged, and eyes widened in indignation. "I am," he insisted. "But I've been a little too busy babysitting my older brother."
A pair of gunshots rang out faintly in the distance, but the boys didn’t even flinch anymore. Based on F'faron's indifference, Jason assumed that gunfire was commonplace.
Flint folded his arms, his lips pinching into a tight line. Jason hadn’t realized how important being a survivalist was to him. Jason sighed. "You may think I'm a thorn in your side, but I'm older. Dad trained me, and I think I have more experience with this kind of thing, so you'll survive longer with me. Plus, I just saved this guy's life from my psychopath little brother."
"You mean, your hungry little brother," Flint corrected.
“Whatever. The point is, this guy could be helpful. Nothing like having a native to scout ahead."
"No," Flint started. "No, no, no. I see where you're going with this, and the answer is no. We are not keeping him."
"But—"
"Keep one, and by the end of the day, you have a whole pack begging."
"But—"
"No!"
Jason's fist tightened by his side. "I'm older, so that makes me in charge."
"In what sick world does that make you in charge?" Flint demanded.
"In every world! Earth, here!"
"I can cut loose and leave you in a second," Flint threatened.
"You wouldn't."
"You don't know me; I'm not the little kid you left with mom."
Jason studied Flint's eyes as though searching for the truth behind the threat. "I'm not going to let you get yourself killed," he said. “So don't run off."
"Then he goes," Flint motioned to F'faron. “We don't know enough about him to trust him suddenly. For all we know, he could be sent to lead us back to his pack, where they plan to eat us."
"Okay, but—"
"Having a pet alien would be awesome," Flint admitted, "but it would be just that. We just have no way of knowing it's trustworthy."
"Stop interrupting," Jason growled. "You have no respect."
F'faron doubled back discreetly, making a second attempt to get into Flint's backpack unnoticed.
"Get away!" Flint hissed, and F'faron scampered back. "This thing is really annoying. I'm still on Team Eat-It," Flint growled.
"No, not an option," Jason said decidedly.
Flint groaned in exaggerated frustration.
"Plus," Jason continued, building on Flint's submission. “We have other priorities. Did you find water?"
Flint grimaced. He looked down reluctantly. "No."
"What do you mean, no?" Jason asked." There wasn't a river?"
"There is," Flint said. "But the water is bad."
"What do you mean, bad?" Jason asked. “Saltwater?"
"No, it stinks. It's disgusting."
"Well, what's wrong? Don't you have a water filter?"
Flint shook his head. "I’ve been thinking about it and don't want to risk the filter with poisoned water. It might ruin my filter or might not work at all.
"Why did it stink?" Jason asked.
"I can't tell," Flint confessed. "We're just going to have to find it elsewhere."
Jason looked towards the direction of the river mournfully.
"We're not doing so well so far."
"We're alive," Flint said.
Jason nodded, "Let's stay that way. I want to see the river myself."
"If we go upstream, we should pass whatever makes the river stink," Flint explained.
"If this is the only nearby water source, we will pass other people and other things." Jason looked at F'faron.
"That's why I have you, child soldier," Flint nudged Jason.
Jason sneered at Flint in protest, "Don't call me that."
Flint shrugged apologetically as the two started back towards the river.
F'faron fell in pace right behind them.
"No, no, no!" Flint chided as he saw it. "Get!" He jerked his finger, pointing away.
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F'faron flinched and got down on all fours, growling loudly as he eyed Flint. F’faron seemed equally comfortable on hands and feet or walking like a man.
"You are not coming; go!" Flint feigned a strike at the beast, but it easily dodged to safety.
"Oh, this is going to be annoying." Flint lamented, and he scooped up a smooth stone that matched the color of the cracked dirt. He wound up and threatened to throw it.
"Scat, rat! I will throw this."
F'faron scooped his own stone and wound up ready to return the favor. “Nok dul chow ve, se ve cho e dul!” it hissed.
Flint blinked in surprise, and Jason snickered. Despite F'faron looking like an animal, and to Flint's surprise, it acted very much like a person.
Expecting it to fear him and run away, its distinct offense had caught Flint off guard. There was no denying the beast was easily offended.
"Don't get in a rock fight, Flint. I might side with F'faron," Jason said.
"Traitor," Flint glared at Jason but reluctantly dropped the stone.
Jason chuckled.
"Is something funny?" Flint demanded.
"You just got out-chickened by a foxman!" Jason grinned. "You tell me."
"Shut up," Flint snapped. "I don't see you doing anything."
"That's because I'm ready to pass out," Jason said. "Give me a sip of our water."
"There is only a sip left!"
"Okay, half a sip then." Jason reasoned.
"Jason, rations," Flint tried to explain.
"Rations work differently when you need the energy to fight," Jason said.
Flint protested but reluctantly pulled the clear plastic water bottle out of his backpack. About an inch of water caught the light at the bottom. "Just enough to get your throat wet," Flint cautioned as he looked at it in despair.
Jason accepted the bottle and tipped it back. He coughed as he screwed the cap back on,
"Okay, that made it worse." He groaned as his thirst intensified.
Flint chuckled and began to unscrew the cap.
"Bune!" F'faron cried as he jabbed a clawed finger at the bottle.
"You get away," Flint spat. "This is strictly for the Vance brothers. We can't spare any for rats."
"Bune, bune!" he cried again, motioning for the boys to follow.
Jason regarded F'faron's curious expression but sat up alert. "Flint. I think he may know where we can find water." He tugged the bottle out of Flint's hand.
"Bune?" he asked, giving the bottle a little jiggle.
"Core! Bune!" he grinned.
"Take us!" Jason commanded.
"Bune, Bune," F'faron cried and scampered ahead. Jason started after him, moving as quietly as he could.
"You're going after him?" Flint cried. "You idiot, it's obviously a trap."
"Pardon where I put my trust, brother," Jason said flatly, "but the last guy I sent to get water came back empty-handed. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm thirsty." Jason followed after F'faron, leaving Flint speechless. Flint growled in exasperation and followed.
Jason quickly recognized where they were. They had come down this way before. He was sure of it. In addition to some prominent landmarks, some of the tan-orange clay mounds in the area looked strikingly familiar.
Flint skulked as he fell behind, but Jason pressed forward eagerly, almost forgetting to advance cautiously. Flint followed with a more watchful air, waiting for the moment fifty more F'farons jumped out to roast them on a spit.
"Cha!" F'faron cried as he scampered past a few clay mounds and pointed to a sagging surface of twigs and pine needles. Jason recognized it as the pitfall he identified before.
"Ah-ha!" Flint cried, "We have been here before!"
"Right." Jason agreed. "That's the last pitfall we passed. But what does he want us to do with it?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Flint asked. "He wants us to fall in it."
"Why would he want that?" Jason asked.
"I don't know. To eat us?"
"You really think he dug these pits?"
"Not by himself. But maybe there is a pack of them."
"Bune!" F'faron chirped, pointing down.
"That's it," Flint said. "I'm throwing him in."
"Flint, wait!" Jason snapped. "Let's at least take a look."
"This is literally a trap," Flint said. "You know what, fine, don't listen to me. No sense in starting now."
Jason rolled his eyes and made his way over to the edge. "Bune?" He asked F'faron, and Flint snorted at Jason's use of F'faron's dialect.
"Bune!" F'faron promised eagerly.
Jason got on all fours, surveyed F'faron cautiously, and pushed back some branches.
Flint braced himself as if waiting to see a volley of blow-gun darts or a barrage of furry creatures engulf Jason, but nothing came.
"Well, I'll be." Jason mused.
"What is it?"
"It's not a deadfall. It's a well!"
"What?" Flint surged forward, dismissing his previous paranoia, and joined the other two at the pit's edge.
Jason grinned at the light reflected from the bottom of the pit.
"This one isn't sour!" Flint cried joyfully. "Hey, Ratface." Flint turned to F'faron. "Fill this up, yeah?" He handed the water bottle to the confused F'faron, who attacked the lid with his teeth, trying to open it.
"Hey!" Flint barked, snatching it back. "That's gross. No, like this." He showed F'faron how to unscrew the cap and put it back on again.
F'faron scrutinized the bottle as though it were a heaven-sent relic as he successfully screwed it on and took it off again.
"Good," Flint praised. "Now go fill it up."
F'faron looked at him, perplexed.
Flint sighed, "I can't believe I'm doing this. Bune!" he said, pointing down, his face brightening a little as he was, in fact, trying to speak to an oversized rodent child.
F'faron nodded in understanding, and without hesitation, he scampered down the steep side of the pit into the darkness below.
"Well." Flint muttered as he slumped back onto one of the mounds, "Maybe he does have his uses after all."
"You're horrible," Jason said, appalled at Flint's treatment of their new acquaintance.
Flint shrugged. "Maybe. But I'm still alive." He glanced around, only half convinced that this wasn't a trap.
"So am I," Jason said. “I promise I've survived worse than you, and I try not to be a jerk about it." Jason instinctively scanned their surroundings.
The pitfall, or well, whatever it was, was built in an opening, but the tan clay took on a more orange hue near the trees here.
Flint examined the ground curiously. Several more of those small mounds protruding slightly from the ground here than in other places. They stuck up six to ten inches. They resembled the lumps left by gopher tunnels, but their shape was inconsistent. They all seemed to have a bigger portion and four or so smaller runoffs going in different directions.
At least a half dozen mounds, including the one he was sitting on, were scattered nearby. They also seemed to be made out of hardened mud. Now that he had thought of it, he had seen thousands of them everywhere. As he had been fairly busy trying not to get eaten or find water, Flint had ignored them up to that point.
"Jason," Flint said as he also studied the mounds.
"Yeah?"
"What do you think these are?" Flint asked, pointing to one of the banks.
Jason shrugged. "Rock formations?"
"Not rock," Flint said. "Clay."
"And?"
"I think they might be animal burrows," Flint said.
"That means—"
"Food," Flint said eagerly.
Scraping sounded from below as F'faron clambered up the side of the pit. Pinning the full water bottle between his chin and chest looked tedious. He climbed two steps up, then slid one step back. He used his clawed hands to make handholds and grab any roots or stones he could use to hoist himself.
After F'faron had gotten about halfway up, Flint opened his backpack and produced a wound-up paracord spool. "I don't know why we didn't use this to start."
He looped the end and tossed it down to F'faron, who gratefully stepped into the loop.
"A little help," Flint grunted. "He's heavier than he looks."
Jason joined him, and the two of them hoisted F'faron up. The thin cord dug painfully into their hands.
Once at the top, F'faron eagerly handed the bottle to Jason and glared back at Flint.
"Way to hold a grudge," Flint threw up his hands defensively. "It's not like I'm the one who gave you the bottle or anything.”
"Thank you!" Jason said as he opened the cap and removed Flint's water purifier from his backpack. Pumping the filter, he drank directly from the straw, gulping it until it was about half empty. "Here," he offered it to Flint.
"Finish it," Flint said.
"Wow." Jason marveled. "Is Flint Vance acting selflessly? What day is it? Surely, this day will go down in history."
"No," Flint insisted. "It's called being efficient. I'll get the next one."
Jason returned to his task, downed the rest of the bottle, and handed it empty back to F'faron.
F'faron looked at it in dismay. Seriously? His look seemed to say. Again?
"We'll help out this time," Flint handed the rope to F'faron.
Several trips later left the boys hydrated with a full bottle for the road.
"Well, I'm glad we figured that out," Flint sighed.
"Flint," Jason said.
"What?"
"We need to find this light ice."
"Yeah."
"Are you sure you don't know where to get it? We need to get home, and we're no closer to that than when we got here. What's our plan? How do we find ice? How do we get back?"
Flint looked around as if seeking refuge from the inquiries. They were necessary questions, but Jason knew Flint couldn't answer them. They were questions that Flint felt responsible for and issues he couldn't hide from.
"We need to find Dad," Flint said.
"Yes, but how?"
Flint nodded several times, "The same way I've tracked him so far: we ask around and look for the right signs. We know there are Jericho and Manticore Inc. agents here. If we find them, we can find Dad." Then, seeing Jason's look of trouble again, he added, "Stay focused. If we give up, we won't survive."
"What about Rachel?" Jason asked, a little harsher than he intended.
"What do you mean?"
"We left Jericho agents at my house. What if they hurt her?"
"They won't do anything to her," Flint assured him.
"Do you really know that Flint?" Jason asked with furrowed brows.
Flint paused. "No, I don't."
Jason tried to push aside his annoyance and fear. "Flint—"
A reverbing earthshaking crack sounded, and a shaft of yellow light shot down from the sky nearby.
Both boys bolted upright, and F'faron shot up, his ears twitching.
"What was that?" Jason cried.
"I think someone just arrived on Ash!" Flint said.
"Someone from Earth, like us, and they're close."
"Let's get to them," Jason suggested. "If we can find people like us, we might have a better chance of making it home!"
"No," Flint interjected. "If we saw it, then others surely have too. Remember, we had a welcome party when we arrived."
Jason nodded in agreement. Realizing they were in the open, he turned to Flint. "Let's get back to the cover of the trees."
"First sensible thing I've heard all day," Flint muttered.
Jason jogged towards the trees. Staying low and scanning for any potential danger.
Eyes averted from the ground, Jason's shoe landed on one of the mounds, and it cracked, causing his foot to fall in a couple of inches and sending him into a headlong spill.
Jason threw his kitchen knife to the side to avoid falling on it.
"Jason!" Flint cried as he ran to help his brother, but he gasped as he looked at the mound Jason had broken with his foot.
Climbing back, Jason Jason followed Flint's eyes to the broken mound.
A human skull stared up at him from the hole in the heap. Both brothers cried out and took an involuntary step back.
Jason slowly spun, counting the mounds. Dozens of them lay scattered about, and they had passed thousands of them so far.
The clay form possessed a similar undeniable shape—like giant gingerbread men, with a central portion for the body and four runoffs for limbs. They weren't an animal's burrow. They were graves—corpses encased in clay.
Ash, as far as they had known it, was a graveyard.
Bunus Chapter after 15 ratings.
