Nightmare journey

like we would firing power bolts.”
    They circled away from the place where they thought the rabbit herd was cowering in the thickness of green grass, returned to the camp, retrieved their throwing knives, and made their way back again by an altogether circuitous route.
    “Quietly, now,” Tedesco said.
    But Jask needed no warning. They crept toward the slightly angled patch of grass and, shortly, were able to see a dozen of the animals nibbling at the roots of the buttercups.
    “Choose one,” Tedesco said.
    Jask pointed.
    “Good enough. Don't miss.”
    Neither of them missed.
    The herd thundered away, chittering.
    They gutted the dead animals on the spot, skinned them and carried them back to the camp, where they roasted them over a fire of dry branches and brittle blue moss. They ate slowly, relishing the greasy meat, and they followed the main course with fruits and berries, eating until they were quite uncomfortable.
    In the past two days they had both gone hungry, for the last of their food had had to be fiercely rationed and few birds had flown over their camps to provide them with extra meat.
    “You gutted and skinned like a genuine primitive.'' Tedesco said, speaking cautiously, watching Jask for a reaction.
    “I only followed your directions,” Jask said, picking at his teeth with a stiff grass stalk.
    “A couple of weeks ago,” the mutant said, “I wouldn't have thought you were capable of even that.”
    “I wasn't, then.”
    Tedesco nodded and dropped the subject. An hour later, Jask cursing him all the while, he called the exercise session to order.
    The meadow was silent, except for the punctuation of cricket songs and the occasional howl of some beast that lived in the nearby woods.
    A cool breeze shushed through the broad leaves on all sides and made the grasses bend and dance as if in worship of the night sky.
    Many stars shone, and half a moon.
    In the distance the bacteria jewels cast out lances of light to jab back the night. Most of the meadow was tinted with thin colors, though it was more dark than not. This was the first time in more than a month that Jask and Tedesco had been far enough away from the jewel sea to experience anything resembling darkness, and the absence of all those dazzling colors, so close at hand, was a decided blessing. Moments after they stretched out on the grass beside the limestone boulders, they were already beginning to drift into sleep…
    Here was peace, a place they could trust…
    Out of nowhere, with no warning, a voice twenty times as powerful as any a man could own, bellowed: “GAMES TO BEGIN!”
    Jask and Tedesco leaped to their feet, sleep banished in the instant, turning this way and that in search of the enormous creature that had so much vocal power.
    “NIGHT GAMES ON SITUATION KK.” The voice spoke in flawless English, a language that had survived almost intact from prewar days, thanks to the Pures' dedication to the preservation of prewar artifacts and ideas.
    “What is this?” Jask wanted to know.
    Tedesco waited, peering into the shadowy land around them.
    “PARTICIPANT MECHANICALS PREPARED.”
    “Something's moving out there,” Tedesco said, pointing into the vaguely colored darkness.
    “GENERAL PROGRAM INDICATED, INDIVIDUAL MECHANICAL INITIATIVE TO INDUCE CHANCE FACTORS.”
    Jask peered in the direction Tedesco was pointing, but he could not see anything there. “That's a machine talking,” he told Tedesco. “We have talking machines in the fortress, but none with voices so loud. Still, the very careful intonation is proof it's a machine.”
    “BLUE FOR OFFENSIVE. RED FOR DEFENSIVE.”
    “What's it babbling about?” Tedesco asked.
    “I can't guess.”
    The bruin grunted and pointed again, “Out there, toward the back of the meadow. See them?”
    Jask saw them: fifty men advancing toward them, spread across the width of the open land.
    “Better get the rifles,” the bruin said, stepping into the shelter of the gray boulders and grabbing up the two power guns. He came back and handed a weapon to Jask.
    “They have rifles, too,” Jask said. “They can't be Pures, not here in the Wildlands.”
    “Whoever they are, they aren't friends.”
    Six of the front-rank soldiers fell forward, raised their guns and fired rapidly. Violet bolts of light sizzled along the length of the field, passed Jask and Tedesco with ten yards to spare.
    “Terrible shots,” Jask said.
    A group of soldiers split from the main pack and ran toward the woods under cover of a line of limestone rocks.