The Iron Breed Read Free

and bruised as her prison landed on a wall of brush, its weight bearing down the vegetation that acted as a brake for its descent. The smashing fall she had expected was eased by so much. Perhaps that had saved her life—for now.
    She lay on the floor, broken branches spearing at her through the heavy wire mesh, threatening her. Both hands were pressed to her belly. Pain—the child—it must be coming. She was trapped in here . . .
    She had a few moments to endure that fresh terror before the world went mad with sound. Then came a blast of wind. Only because she was lying on her side facing in the right direction did she see the rise of the ship which had been her prison. And that only briefly, for with the fantastic speed of the alien ships it vanished.
    Jony—she had seen him run down the ramp; he had reached the outer world. “Jony,” she whispered his name feebly, moaning as pain bore down upon her again relentlessly with an agony which filled the whole world for an endless moment.
    When the thrust subsided Rutee moved, sat up. She crawled to the door of the cage, working her hands through the mesh to try to reach the latch, though she knew of old such action was useless. She was trapped as securely here as she had been in the lab. Only that stubborn will to live which had possessed her ever since her capture kept her fumbling away as best she could.
    At length the pain hit again. She groveled and wept, hating herself for her own weakness. Jony—where was Jony? It was getting much darker; clouds were gathering. Now rain began, and the chill of those pelting drops set her shivering.
    Summoning all her strength as the pain ebbed again, Rutee screamed aloud into the storm:
    “Jony!”
    Her only answer was another gust of cold rain beating in upon her. She was so cold . . . cold . . . Never before could she remember being so cold. There should be clothing to put on, heat—protection against this cold. There had been once—when, where? Rutee wept. Her head hurt when she tried to remember. She was cold and she hurt—she needed to get to where it was warm, she must because . . . because . . . She could not remember the reason for that either, as pain came again to fill every inch of her with torment.
    But Jony had heard that scream, even through the fury of the storm. He began to think again, stopped just running mindlessly seeking without a guide. Purposefully he turned, breaking a way to the right, refusing to accept the brush and the soaking vegetation as a barrier.
    Rutee was ahead, somewhere. He must find Rutee. He concentrated on that one thought with the same intensity of purpose which had made the Big One do what he wished and not throw Rutee into the dump place. Mud plastered him almost knee high and his shivering never stopped. This was the first time in his life he had ever been Outside. But he did not even look around him with faint curiosity. All his will was directed toward one end: finding Rutee. She needed him. The wave of her need was so strong that it was like a pain, though he could not have put it into words; he could only feel it.
    Twice he stopped short, his hands flying to his head, as they had by instinct tried to close his ears to the blast of the ship's lifting. There were—thoughts—feelings . . . Only these had nothing to do with Rutee. They were as strange as those he sometimes touched when the Big Ones gathered. At first he crept into the brush again, almost sure that one of the enemy hunted. But there was a difference . . . No, no Big One had come after him; the ship was safely gone.
    The next time, and the next, that Jony felt the touch which he could not explain, he doggedly refused to think about it. He must hold Rutee in his mind, or he would never find her in this wild place.
    Jony staggered, his bruised hand out to a tree trunk in support.
    Rutee! She was near and she hurt! She hurt so bad, Jony wanted to double up, as his nerves made instant sympathetic response. He had to wait