Earthbound by Joe Haldeman Read Free Book Online Page A

funny.”
    “I apologize for catabolism. I have no food to metabolize.” In fact, she was starting to smell like marigolds. “I’ve not seen a black person since I left Mars, many years ago.”
    “You’ve been stuck here since you got back?”
    “Here on the base, yes, in protective custody.”
    “Serious threats on her life,” I said. “Even before the shit hit the fan.”
    “The what ?”
    “Old expression. One of my father’s favorites.”
    “How much longer can you live,” Namir asked, “without new food?”
    “I have no idea. I’ve never been hungry before.”
    “You can’t eat any human food?” Alba asked.
    “No. I can consume pure carbohydrates but get no nutrition from them. And the smallest amount of protein contamination would kill me.”
    “They didn’t have food for you anywhere on this base?” I said.
    “A few days’ worth, which I’ve eaten. More was coming, from Russia. Actually, if the power hadn’t gone out, I might have joined the other Martians there by now, or at least tomorrow—”
    There was a sudden gunshot. Namir snatched the rifle off the table and hit the floor, hard. “Get away from the window!” Snowbird half galloped into the next room. I slumped myself down behind the table. They couldn’t see in, I thought irrelevantly. They could shoot in.
    Elza came staggering into the room, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “What was—”
    Paul grabbed her, and Namir shouted, “ Down , Elza! Get down!” She did, and scuttled over to take one of the pistols.
    A single answering bang came from the roof.
    “Dustin’s a good shot,” Namir said. After a minute he stole up the stairs and cracked open the door to the roof. “Any luck?”
    Dustin’s response was inaudible, where we were. Namir came back down, still keeping low. “Target’s not moving,” he relayed. “Dead or wounded or playing possum. I guess Dustin doesn’t want to use up a round, checking.”
    “Might be good strategy to shoot a couple,” Paul said. “Make it look like we have ammo to spare.”
    “Might be. But I think the time for that is past, now. I better check out back.”
    “I’ll go,” Alba said. She had the riot gun. “Won’t use this unless they’re coming in the door.”
    “Good. Take the other pistol, Carmen.” I did. It was the one Paul had used. Keep it in the family. I clicked the safety off, on, off again. A speck of red paint showed when it was off. Red equals fire, easy enough.
    There was a long stammer of automatic fire, part of which crashed through the window. Only seven rounds of it, evidently; there were seven small holes letting daylight in. But the glass hadn’t shattered.
    “He’s close,” Namir said in a hoarse whisper. “If Dustin can’t see him, he’s probably just behind the sandbags. Where you were on guard last night, Carmen.”
    I was trying to swallow, but couldn’t. Most of those bullets hit the wall behind me. If I’d been standing up, I’d have been hit.
    “Stay down,” he said unnecessarily. “He might try to shoot out—” There was a longer sustained roar of fire, glass splintering everywhere, which blew a hole in the picture window more than two feet wide.
    Namir stood up quickly and sighted through the hole. He stood still as a photograph for two seconds and then fired a single shot, which reverberated like a gong in the closed room.
    “Lucky shot.” He strode over to the front door, unbolted it, and opened it a couple of inches. He aimed down through the slit and fired once more.
    “Okay. Paul, come check. Isn’t this the guy from yesterday?”
    I stepped over to look. It looked like him, Jemmie, in NASA coveralls, but he was face-down on the sidewalk, blood and brains sprayed in a fan from the back of his head; Namir’s second shot. I swallowed bile.
    He was still holding his weapon, a pistol not much bigger than mine, but with a large ammunition canister attached.
    “Yeah,” Paul said. “One to go, maybe?”
    “I want to go up