Immunity Index by Sue Burke (best fiction books of all time txt) 📗

and splashed through the stream. His path through the scrub was easy to follow. Far downstream, a buck stood outside a clump of dogwood large enough to hide a herd of deer. He turned from the cornfield to look at her, then turned back to stare at the field. He was standing guard and knew where there was danger: in the corn. Maybe he feared a mammoth.

She sprinted to the edge of the field. The corn grew more than two feet above her head. If he was in there, he’d tower over it, but she’d never see far enough to spot him.

But there up ahead: mammoth scat. She knelt to look. Not dry at all, but cold, so it was at most an hour old. Trampled weeds led east along the edge of the field. She would follow the trail. How far could he go in an hour? How far would the buttery scent of his fur travel? Would he trumpet or grumble? Answer her call? Or would he run from her?

The wind rustled the corn behind her. Another breeze sounded deep, resonant, yet no leaves rustled. It sounded again. It carried a hint of buttery scent. Then an inhalation lasted longer than the breath any other wild animal would draw.

She turned, knowing what she would see.

Nimkii. Looking at her, very close, only half hidden by cornstalks.

How much did he hate her? How frightened was he? Could she outrun him through the brush? He was close enough to touch her with his trunk.

“Nimkii.” If she stayed calm, he’d be more likely to stay calm.

He blinked.

“Nimkii, are you lost, pedazo?”

He roared. In a cat throat the sound would have been a mew.

Running would be a provocation. Especially if it made him feel deserted.

“Nimkii, would you like to follow me? I know the way to go home.”

She took a step toward the creek, then turned back and gestured, long sweeping movements with her arm as if it were a trunk. He was smart. He would understand—she desperately hoped.

“Come with me, follow me.” She held her breath and waited for him to turn and flee, to attack, or to hesitate, still undecided.

Instead, he reached out! He wrapped his trunk around her wrist—and didn’t yank.

She needed to stay calm. She stifled an unbearable urge to shout with joy.

“Come with me.” She took another step, pulling on his trunk. He took a small step.

“Keep going, we’ve got it.” His trunk felt warm, its long hair rough like a dog’s. She turned to lead and slid her hand down to the end of his trunk to clasp the thumblike extension at its end.

He followed, each of his steps as long as three of hers.

She heard faint sirens even before they had reached the creek. Of course. A mammoth couldn’t be allowed to roam free, especially not if he was frightened. He had no survival skills. He was going to be shot full of tranquilizers and hauled away. How would he react? The best she could do was lead him to someplace to make the capture easy on him. I’m sorry, Nimkii. If he was frightened now, he’d be terrified then. And he’d blame her. Hate her forever.

But what else could she do? “Let’s go to the road and then head home.”

They walked downhill, then splashed through the water. He stayed docilely beside her. She let go of his trunk and reached up to gently gather a handful of the hair hanging from his flank, yard-long hair reaching to his knee, and his knee was at the height of her elbow.

They passed a bare, dead oak snag next to the line of aspens, and suddenly she had an idea of how to get him home safely, a crazy idea but better than what was likely to come. He’d seen people on horseback. Had he understood it?

She tugged on his hair. “Nimkii, stop for a minute. Come over here. Yes, here. Like that. Okay, now hold still.”

She climbed up the tree trunk, out onto a branch, and pulled herself onto his back.

Nimkii took a few steps and shuddered. Irene already regretted the idea. He curled his trunk to reach over his shoulder and touch her leg splayed across his back. The tendons in her groin hurt, pulled too wide. But his hair and underfur were soft, and a thick layer of fat cushioned his shoulders, like sitting on a hairy pillow. She put her arms around his shoulder hump and held on.

“Forward, mighty steed!” If she was going to die of stupidity, at least she could have fun doing it. She rocked back and forth to urge him to move. He took a hesitant step and shuddered again. “There you go. Another step. Keep going. I’ll steer when you need to turn.”

He began walking through the alfalfa field. Good. She tugged the hair on the left side of his head. He turned his head, and she rocked, and he turned his body. He kept walking, slow and uncertain.

They were spotted even before they reached the road. A car came racing toward them and stopped a hundred feet away.

She smiled and waved. “We’re going back to the farm!”

If this worked, it would make a great video. And everyone would know where to find Irene Ruiz the dupe. Well, it was now too late to do anything but cope.

She urged Nimkii onto the road’s old worn asphalt to continue toward the farm. Ahead red lights were flashing. Two sheriff’s cars. Would they spook Nimkii? Maybe the tracker was on again. She ought to call ahead and warn them. She lifted up her wrist and told her phone to place a call.

“Alan. I have Nimkii.”

“We’ve spotted him. On the road.”

“I know. I’m riding him.”

“You shouldn’t be doing that!”

“He wants to come back home. It’s scary out here. So we’re on our way!”

“She’s riding Nimkii!” Alan shouted to people around him. “They’re coming here.… Irene, listen, we can come and tranquilize him. We’ll be right there.”

“But he’s coming home. You don’t need