Chapter 5

“For whom are you waiting?” The voice behind him softly asked, causing Porter to jump in place and almost lose his arrow from his bow.

“Wha?” Porter gasped as the nella sprinted for safety. The deer-like creature that he had been fond of hunting had very sharp hearing.

“I was waiting for dinner, if you must know,” Porter groused, using one of Zeb’s cantankerous ploys to cover his confusion and instant anxiety. After his confrontation with the priests, he had not slept well. “For whom are you waiting?”

“Apparently for you,” the man replied giving Porter and his new bow a once over.

Porter stood up and dropped his unused arrow back in its quiver. The man was dressed in brown leathers and carried a sword and a bow across his back. A plain dagger hung from his side. His stance oozed command and cool confidence. More importantly, the man acted deliberately non-confrontational, which was almost a new sensation to Porter.

Porter took a stab at the probable, “If you’re the border patrol, you’re two days late.”

“Two days late, you say?” the man asked with amused surprise.

“Yeah. The priesthood tried to run me through two days ago.”

The man considered the fact for a moment. “They failed, I see.”

A slight movement in the bushes back and to the left of the man, close to the ground caught Porter’s attention. The tan body crept slowly forward, close to the ground and silent. He knew the cat was somewhere nearby, but they had split up when the cat became tired of waiting for the nella and went in search of easier prey. Kanji had returned and was stalking her next victim. Porter debated and decided that he had no choice.

“Kanji, no! Come here,” Porter said.

It was the stranger’s turn to jump when the cat leapt out of the bush and into plain sight. The wastecat made a wide circle around the stranger and came to a stop next to Porter. She sat on her haunches and licked her chops as she surveyed the man and weighed him with her feline senses. The man took one step backwards as he appeared to fight the desire to take another step backward from the cat. Instead he sucked in a deep breath, regaining his calm demeanor slowly. He shook his head in disbelief and uncrossed his arms, letting his hands dangle at his side.

“I would guess that this creature is a wastecat?” The man finally said.

Porter scratched the hair behind her ears. “That she is.”

Kanji shook off the unwanted attention and gave a large yawn, showing the world an impressive set of fangs and teeth. She concluded her display with an ear shattering yowl of her kind that reverberated through the neighborhood with a flutter of wings and terrified rodent feet.

The soldier took his index finger and commenced to clean out his ear commenting as he went, “Well, that settles that little question; pardon my momentary deafness. I assume that you have been in the Waste?

“Aye.”

“Did you chance upon the spaceship?” He said.

“Aye.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Aye.”

“Are you always this difficult?” the man asked with warranted frustration.

Porter chuckled, “No, usually I’m more obstreperous, but I’ve had a very good teacher. Follow me and I will take you to Zeb; he is the real expert on the Waste, and he has been expecting you.”

A crashing through the bushes paused their conversation as five more border patrol came rushing towards them with their swords drawn. They pulled up short when they saw their captain standing calmly, talking to a hunter with a wastecat as his side. Whatever thoughts were running through the captain’s head, he kept to himself for the moment. Porter watched him give his men a slight motion with his finger. They put away their swords, although none of them took their eyes off the cat.

“This gentleman has been to the Waste and has offered to escort us to Zeb’s house,” he announced. “Zeb is the old man who scavenges the Waste and was probably the first to find the spaceship. Am I correct, sir?” He directed the question to Porter.

“Porter.”

“What?” the confused captain exclaimed.

“My name is Porter,” he said, enjoying the trivial confusion he was sowing. He smiled at the five soldiers as well until he recognized that one of them was a woman. He was not expecting a female to be in a primitive army of swords and bows.

The captain was wiser than Porter had first given him credit. “Thank you, Porter. My name is Tyver; you may call me ‘Captain Tyver.’” The captain concluded his introduction with a little smile and suggested that Porter gather his mount, riding with them the rest of the way. When Porter pointed at the cat, explaining that he had no mount, the captain politely asked him to wait while they gathered their mounts and followed him home.

Porter set a brisk pace. The six soldiers mounted up with their captain at the fore to follow. Porter stepped onto the main trail, letting the cat weave her own invisible path through the wood. Not that Porter thought he could actually order and control the cat most of the time but his unasked-for escort did not have to know that little fact.

The captain pulled abreast of Porter and tried to strike up a conversation. Porter kept his replies short and polite without revealing much about himself or his relationship with Zeb. This was a boss man of some sort and the bureaucrat always took the position of never trusting a boss. When asked about the spaceship in the Waste, Porter consistently replied that Zeb would have to answer all the captain’s questions because the expedition was Zeb’s.

Finding that subject blocked, the captain turned to the visit from the priesthood. Porter sketched out the encounter, including the death of four of them. Without much elaboration, he told of how Zeb shot two of them with poison arrows, Kanji took out one, and he had killed one as well. Porter reported that one had escaped and mentioned that perhaps, they had chanced upon a fleeing priest two days ago.

The captain took the report with marked concern but admitted they had not seen a priest fleeing the other way. Satisfied with Porter’s version for the moment, the captain pointed at Porter’s bow and asked about it.

“I harvested an ironwood in the Waste,” Porter shrugged as if it was no big deal.

The captain looked amused again, “Isn’t that dangerous? The Waste is supposed to be filled with venomous snakes, dangerous predators and cutting plants.”

Porter nodded his head with remembrance, “The Waste is incredibly dangerous. It took me two days to clear out the snakes and lizards before I could harvest two ironwood trees.”

“How did you clear out the reptiles?” the captain quietly probed as they trod down the path.

“I used a very long stick and beat the bushes. Nothing in the Waste likes to be out in the sun during the heat of the day and every creature will gladly flee to another shelter of shade rather than fight in the noonday sun.” Porter amended his last statement, “most every creature.”

The captain picked up on his reticence, “Ah, you have another story to tell.”

Porter barely caught himself before he said anything more. After living with Zeb for a while, he had become starved for conversation, especially one that did not involve commerce. His ability to run off at the mouth was an old weakness, which had been further enfeebled by the lack of opportunity. He shook his head ruefully and said, “Perhaps, later.”

Kanji jumped out from the brush up ahead and bounded into the clearing where Zeb lived. Porter was relieved to drop this line of conversation and he picked up his pace to a near jog as they approached the trail head. Porter gave out a long whistle to announce their arrival when they emerged from the wood.

Zeb poked his head out of the second building with his hands hidden. He stared for a moment and then disappeared from sight. He emerged again from the doorway with empty hands acting as if welcoming visitors to his homestead was a common occurrence.

After welcoming his guests and offering them hospitality with a bucket for watering their hamox, Zeb turned to Porter, “No meat for dinner?”

Porter pointed to the captain. “He scared off the nella.”

Zeb shot Porter a dirty look as if he had insulted an important guest. Turning his back on Porter, he invited the captain to join him in his cabin for some food and drink. Porter was afraid he was going to be drafted into butler/maid/chef, but the old man apparently wanted nothing from him. Porter started to wander off when one of the soldiers called him over.

Harlan introduced himself and his fellow riders of the Border Patrol. Porter was mesmerized by Leeza but he declined to make any comments, refusing to look closely at her. Her light brown hair was cut short and her eyes matched the same shade of brown. He felt like a lumbering tub of lard all over again with cascades of shame and embarrassment slopping through him.