The Iron Breed Read Free Page A

for what seemed a long time, crying a little, his breath coming in harsh gasps which he felt but could not hear. Her pain had eased; he could go on.
    He came to where even through the darkness of the storm he could see the bulk of the cage. It was not quite at ground level, being held up by a mass of crushed foliage and branches. Rutee was only a pale, small huddle within it. Jony knew he could open the lock—if he could reach it. Only that was well above his head, for as he neared the place he realized that the bottom of the cage itself was above him.
    Somehow he would have to climb up over all the brush and the wire netting.
    Twice he jumped, caught branches, teetered on rain-wet footing, and was spilled painfully, when they gave under his weight, slight as it was. But his determination never faltered; he only tried again. There was a deep, bleeding furrow down his leg where a splintered branch had gouged. And his arms and shoulders ached with the strain he put on them as he strove to pull up higher.
    At last he worked his way up until he could catch at the wire. There he clung, speechless, caught in a spasm of the pain which radiated from Rutee, hanging on desperately because he must, until he dared move again. Too, as he climbed toward the locking device, his weight pulled the cage forward. That it might crash forward to crush him beneath it was not in Jony's thoughts now; he had only room for one thing: the belief that he must reach the lock—get Rutee out.
    He heard her cries, and then his hand closed on the fastening, which she had been unable to touch. It went this way . . . One-handed, Jony held to his perch, flattened against the wire as the cage trembled. Yes—now this way!
    Through the storm's sounds he could not hear the faint click of the released device. However, his weight against the door caused it to swing open and out. Jony dangled by one hand for a heart-thumping instant. Then his toes, his feet found anchorage on the wires; his two arms wrapped in and around it. Only the cage was tipping more and more in his direction.
    Fear froze him where he was, aware at last that all might crash down. Rutee was moving, crawling to the very edge of the doorway on her hands and knees.
    She had been only half-aware of Jony's coming. But, after her last pain had ebbed, she knew at once his danger. He had paid no attention to her orders to get down and away, perhaps he never even heard them. Now he clung as if plastered to the door, suspended over a dark drop she did not know the extent of. She had now, not only to escape herself, but perhaps save Jony.
    Cautiously she lowered her clumsy body half over the edge of the tilting cage, groping with her legs, her feet, for some means of support. Twice she kicked against the branches, but these gave too easily to pressure; she dared not trust her weight to such. A third time her right foot scraped painfully along something horizontal and then thumped home, with a jar that brought an agonized moan from her, on a surface which did not slip away or sway as she dared exert more pressure.
    She must move now. The cage was certainly going to slide forward, and, if she remained where she was, it might mean that both she and Jony would be crushed. There was a lull in the rising of the wind, though the rain was still steady. Her first attempt at speech was a hoarse croak, but she tried again.
    “Move, Jony, to the left.” It was so hard to think. Her mind seemed all fuzzy as it had when the aliens had experimented with her that first time. And she dared not linger where she was to see if Jony heard and obeyed. Her weight and his, both at the forepart of the cage, was pulling it out and down.
    Now she had both her feet on that firm support; and she allowed her grasp on the cage itself to loosen, as she dropped one hand and the other to the unseen sturdy point she had found. When her grip on that was sure, she dared to look up.
    Jony moved! He had dropped down to the bottom edge of the