Far in the distance, some five miles at the narrowest point, rose the outer wall. Between the two prowled a variety of ambivalent robot beasts, now ready to dismember him, but on weekends adjusted to take small boys and girls for short rides or simply to stalk about picturesquely.
Drawing his pistol and placing it between his teeth, Bernard leaped to the ground between the wall and a large low palm. At once the pistol was again in his hand. But nothing moved. Now he could see clearly the path he must take.
Bending low, he trotted along through the undergrowth. It soon began to clear, and still no danger in sight. He holstered the pistol and advanced, half-walking, half-running, till he could hear the hiss of the rapids. Enough noise to mask the sounds of a dozen panthers, he thought. But it covered his own footsteps, too, and panthers were more phonotropic than polar bears, the latter having a preference for radar spotting.
Coyotes were the worst, of course, with their damned infrared thermo-sensors. They could spot a runner even when he was in cover. Fortunately they were scarce and getting more so. Bernard had only encountered a coyote twice, deactivating it both times. But he had been lucky. He recalled the story about that city councilman....
An hour later he arrived at the river, a half-mile above the rapids and well away from the water hole. He had seen only one beast in the first three miles of his trek, a giraffe hobbling along in olfactory pursuit of another runner far to the right. Giraffes were mainly a nuisance, though they could kick and trample a man. Bernard had heard of such a thing happening, but it was a rarity. They were too easy to elude.
He crossed the river on a log raft he found, which had evidently been rigged to dump him in about halfway across. At least he had got that far on it he told himself, as he struck out for the shore. For one horrible moment he thought he detected a shark upstream, but it was merely the shadow of a large palm leaf. He had a strong and sensible fear of sharks.
A mile farther found him crawling over the rocky ground as the growls of panthers reached his acute ears from behind a ridge of brush. If they heard him, they ignored him, perhaps more interested in other quarry. His knees and arms were scraped but not bleeding, and at last he was able to get to his feet to make better time.
It was then that he heard the girl's scream.
No regulation in the rule book discriminated against women becoming runners, but only a few of the millions who worked at offices and plants in the city did so. Also there was nothing in the code about helping other runners. Each was entirely on his own, free to help or be helped, or not helped, if he chose.