Touchdown, Touchdown, Rah, Rah, Rah!

A short while later Ray, Elizabeth and Faber were trotting away from the campus with the rest of the bagdrag team, following the chunky coach into the grassy hills east of the campus. The team had brought along a large bag, which the players took turns carrying. “Lunch,” Elizabeth puffed as she trotted between Ray and Faber. “This is how prehistoric kya herds took food across wastelands. Used reed baskets and hollowed-out tree trunks. Surrounded the carriers with guards. Had to protect the goodies from other herds.”

Which is where bagdrag comes from, Ray guessed. He said nothing. He wasn’t in top shape, and he didn’t want to waste any breath on speech. At least Faber didn’t have a problem; he was barely working up a sweat. The team stopped for a break after traveling five miles or so. The coach picked a rest site under a clump of trees, and Ray sat down, pulled off his shoes and checked his feet for blisters. Elizabeth sat down next to him, gave him a pill and handed him a bottle of juice from the bag. “How are your feet?”

“A bit sore, but OK. How are you doing?”

“Not too bad.” Like Ray, she was sweaty and out of breath. “We’ll rest for a half-hour before we head back.”

“Good.” Ray swallowed the pill with the juice. Whatever it was, the drink revived him. He went to the bag, where the various players were picking out clumps of fruits and vegetables. Ray took a large cluster of orange leaves and brought it back to Elizabeth. “Better not to eat too much,” she said, taking a leaf. “It’s a long way back.”

Ray nodded, and was about to say something when Faber sat down with them. He gave the leaves a disdainful look. “Rabbit food,” he sneered, opening the lunch he’d packed. “You need real food if you’re going to work out.”

“We’re doing all right,” Elizabeth said.

“Aw, come on,” Faber said, giving her the eye. “You wouldn’t be so scrawny if you started eating some decent meals. You might even be cute with a little meat on your bones. Here.”

“No, thanks.” Elizabeth pulled back as he held out a chicken sandwich. “I’m Catholic. I won’t touch bread.” The comment sailed over Faber’s head, as did her obvious dislike for him. “There’s some knotvine in the bag,” Ray said, to give her an excuse to get away from Faber. “Let’s get some before it all disappears.”

Elizabeth got up and accompanied him to the lunch bag. “Thanks,” she muttered.

“Any time. Doesn’t he know about your allergies?”

“He read somewhere that there’s no such thing as an allergy, so he thinks it’s all psychosomatic.” She sighed, and switched from Wideplain to English. “The idiot. I thought I was at the bottom of his wish list. At least, Mr. Desperate hasn’t made any moves on me until now.”

“That was his idea of making a move?” Ray asked. “I can make better moves than that.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

Ray hesitated. He hadn’t been serious. On the other hand, he mused, he’d had worse ideas. “You’ll see,” he said.

They come to the lunch bag. Ray squeezed in amid the kya who were picking out food, found some knotvine and took a handful. As he walked away he overheard Faber talking with some of the players. “Right now I’d kill for a charbroiled steak,” he said.

Faber’s companions snuffled with nervous laughter. “I thought you had to kill anyway, to get a styake,” one said.

“We don’t kill anything for meat,” Faber said. “Just cattle. Jeeze, you people talk like we were cannibals.”

The kya sniffed in bafflement. “ ‘Cannibals’?” one repeated.

Ray went back to Elizabeth, sat down and shared the knotvine with her. By the time it was gone the team coach was smacking his hands together over his head. “All right, people, break’s over, let’s move!”

While some of the players closed up the lunch bag, Ray put his shoes back on. He was sealing the flaps around his ankles when he heard a long, loud groan. Looking up, he saw Faber drop to his knees as he clutched at his belly. His face had gone dead white. “What’s wrong?” Ray asked, going over to him.

“Dunno,” he grumbled in English. “Got a knot in my guts. Feel like I’m going to boot one, too.”

Elizabeth and several of the kya joined him. “What did you eat?” she asked.

“My stuff... some of that chocolate stuff, too.”

“Did you take an enzyme pill?” she asked.

“What for?” he gasped. “Just had a little.”

“We’d better get him to the embassy’s doctor,” Elizabeth said, as Faber lay down on the grass. She looked alarmed. “He’s poisoned himself.”

“How do we get him there?” Ray asked. The nearest vehicle was miles away, and Faber had to weigh close to two hundred pounds. “He’s in no shape to walk.”

“So we carry him,” one of the kya said. “We’re a bagdrag team, remember?”

“This smells more like mountain-drag,” another kya said, eyeing Faber as he rolled on the grass.

“Let’s go,” the coach said. “Herd one, take Reek Hard, herd two, get the lunch bag.”

“Hold it,” Elizabeth said, as eight kya grasped Faber by the amis, legs and belt. “You should carry him facedown. That way, if he throws up the vomit won’t drain into his lungs.”