Lost Souls Chapter 2 (in progress)
I couldn't have explained how I knew that this young woman was one of us – or even what I meant by _us_, beyond that we were all trapped in strange, and somehow differing, places. It was the same feeling that told me the boggle Narishkeit didn't belong with us, but the man in the leather jacket possibly did.
"Let me guess," I said to her. "The world recently got very strange, and now you're lost. Welcome to the club."
Before she had a chance to respond, the swordsman demanded to know who she was and where she came from. She threw his question back at him. "Who are you? How about answering your own questions first?"
"My name is Gareth. I come from Southport and am a freesword. The little one is called Narishkeit and is a boggle. This gentleman is named Raven. That is who we are. And you are?"
His way of speaking was a bit off. Awkward, like maybe the language he spoke wasn't the one I heard, and something got lost in the translation.
"I'm Joan," she said. "From Fairbanks - if this still _is_ Fairbanks."
He didn't hear her, though, because something up the corridor caught his attention. Gareth suddenly drew his sword and pushed Joan behind him. Then he took several paces forward and began waving his sword about as if fighting an imaginary opponent. After all the strangenesses of these last few days, I'd have believed that there _was_ someone else there, but I heard no clash of metal against metal whenever Gareth 'parried' a blow, nor any sound of blade striking flesh or armor. And I thought that if his opponent were real, he'd have had to fight better or be defeated.
"What is he _doing_?" asked Joan.
"Not sure. Looks like shadow boxing, but with weapons."
Narishkeit looked at me strangely but, for once, didn't giggle. "We don't see the shadow that he fights," said the boggle. "And a sword is no use against shadows, even if they are in a box."
As abruptly as he'd started 'fighting', Gareth stopped. He strode to where his pack lay and pulled out a rag, which he used to wipe his sword, although no blood was visible on the blade.
"Do any of you," he said, "have an idea of who that swordsman was, and why he would want us dead?"
"What are you talking about?" said Joan.
"What swordsman?" I asked.
"That one there." Gareth pointed to a spot on the floor.
I glanced at Joan. "There's nothing there," she said.
Gareth looked at both of us. "I tell you that there is a man there, lying dead in his own blood."
Narishkeit giggled.
"We should not stay here," said Gareth. "He may have had companions, and I do not wish to have to fight several men at once."
So I led them through the corridors and passages of that hollow mountain, toward the chambers I had made into a living space for myself. No one else suggested that we split up, and I was unwilling, after weeks of isolation, to go back to being alone. Joan walked with me between her and the other two; I think she decided that she could trust me more, since I wasn't carrying a weapon.
"Hey, this block is different!" she exclaimed a few minutes later. "Before, it was the same buildings over and over... But it doesn't look familiar, either," she added.
"What do you see?" She gave me an odd look.
"We're not all seeing the same thing," I said. "Not our surroundings, anyway." Then I told her, briefly, what the others had described to me: Catie's oddly furnished ballroom, Gareth's stone keep with nameless things chittering and chattering within the walls.
"We're walking on a sidewalk in a city. I think it's Fairbanks, but it's not any part of the city that I recognize. There are no cars on the street, and no people. Like everyone disappeared, and we're the only ones left." She described each building that she saw in turn, until we arrived at my room.
"We're inside a clock shop now," Joan said, turning in a slow circle and staring at the walls.
"The clocks all show different times. Some are the kind that tell the date, too, and those can't even agree on the _year_. Twenty-nine sixty-_what_?" She shook her head. "Weird."
_Flicker._
I thought nothing had changed, until it changed back. For a moment the walls had been quarried and set blocks of stone... Gareth's place, I assumed.
_Flicker._
In the distance I heard shouting, and gun shots, and the squeal of an automobile's tires. I started to step out into the corridor, just as someone else stepped in.
"Where are the others?" Dark hair, eyes a definite green even by the uncertain light of torches... I'd never seen her before, although something about her seemed familiar. "There should be six of you; I see only three."
She tilted her head, listening to something that only she heard. "That's right - it's not time yet."
Eyes as green as dragonfire, or lasers... Why did she look so familiar? "Whatever you do, _stay together_. It's very important. When the others show up, don't let them get separated, either."
"Will that help us to get home?" Gareth asked.
"Depends on what you mean by 'home'," she replied.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I was starting to wish I'd just stayed in my little surreal room in the little surreal Motel 3 on the border of sanity.
We'd made an escape from the town, but now I found the borderlands equally oppressive, a broad almond orchard without end. At least we'd lost the cops. The last shot had broken the rear window almost a quarter hour ago, and now the sounds of their cars were gone, overtaken by a deadly calm, the heavy brushing of tree limbs coming together in the wind.
I pulled off the road into the thickest stand I could find and skidded down a short incline behind the trees. An almond came loose from a branch above us and pelted off the front window as we stopped.
As I opened the door, a cascade of glass fell from my seat. I felt blood trickling down my cheek. "I don't think the cops will find us here," I said, "but we better abandon the car, just in case! With the glass shot out the back, it's too conspicuous."
"Uh, sure, that sounds reasonable," Catie said. "But, wait, listen, why were those police after us?"
I glowered at her and snapped an angry retort before remembering she had no idea what had really just happened. "Oh, yeah. That's right, you *didn't* see any of it. Sorry, I forget we have a bit of a perception problem."
"That's all right," she shrugged. "For a second there, though, I did see them."
"What? When!? How?!"
She'd hit her head during the trip. Now, if only I could knock some sense back into myself, maybe I could start to figure this mess out. I stopped and put my hand on the trunk of one of the dark trees while we talked. The solid, pitted surface somehow reassured me.
"Careful, you're pushing the books together," she said
"Books?" I looked behind me. "Sorry, all I can see is - wait! Did you hear something?" Ragged, tortured breathing. The gasps came at regular intervals, but each exhale sounded weaker.
Catie wanted to go investigate. I was still too worried about the cops suddenly showing up and about finding a way out of the labyrinth of trees to care about some new prop or character in this puppet play. But she was adamant. She seemed about to go off by herself, and she gave me a final rather frightening but cute glare. I sighed and threw up my hands. "Fine. It's your mission - just don't get us killed."
Further in, the trees grew denser. We were putting some distance between ourselves and the road, which made me slightly more comfortable. Over a small hill the almond trees grew sparse, and a field seemed to stretch almost to the horizon.
"There!" I said. "By that big pine tree!" A girl lay curled at the base of the tree, dressed in dull olive pants and a peasant blouse.
Catie followed me as I went to check the girl. I couldn't tell if she was asleep or unconscious. Her face felt too warm.
Suddenly, the girl's eyes popped open, fixing on something behind me. Wide-eyed, she pointed and screamed. Catie and I whirled around in panic. "What?!" I yelled. "I don't see anything!"
Catie screamed, and then I did see them. Four flak-jacketed cops appeared from the dense edge of the trees, pistols drawn.
"You're coming with us," said one of them as the other three closed in.
The girl in the peasant blouse yanked on my arm, pulling me down closer to her. "Remember Indigo," she whispered in my ear. Two of the cops had me and Catie roughly up against the tree, our hands behind our heads while they handcuffed us. I heard the third one say, "This girl's dead," before the sound of helicopter blades above us bent his words.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I looked at the woman with a puzzled look on my face.
"What kind of games are you playing? What other meaning to 'home' is there? How do I find my way out of this labyrinth and back to Southport?" I demanded of her.
"It depends on which Southport, in which incarnation of the multiverse you wish to get to. It is difficult to explain, but I will try. But not here, this is too dangerous a place, and the explanation will take too long."
"My name is ..."
She sang a complex series of notes, and smiled at our confusion. She said "To make things easier for you, you may call me Rebecca."
She brushed her dark hair out of her eyes and looked around. "You, my fine warrior, must be the Flame. I am the Oracle, of course. It is important that we know which role each of us shall play."
She turned to Joan and Raven. "I am not sure of you yet. Are you the Envoy or the Guardian? The Masked One or the Scout?" To their puzzled looks, she replied, "Do not worry that you do not know at this time. All shall be revealed in time."
She looked down at Narishkeit.
"However, I am not sure about you. You are not one of the Six, you are not mentioned in the Prophecy. I must read the ancient words again. But, again, not here, not now. Those who walk in Shadow abound here, and they will find this place soon. Please, follow me."
Rebecca placed her hands upon the wall behind her, and pushed slightly. The stones moved inward, revealing a passageway behind it. She took a torch from a sconce in the wall and began to walk down the passage.
I followed her closely, my hand ready on the hilt of my sword.
The others followed. Once Raven, who was bringing up the rear, had stepped into the passage, the door slid closed behind him, without Rebecca having doing anything, or at least anything I could see. The others looked at each other, and then at me. I shrugged, and continued to follow this woman into the unknown.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The cops were blindfolding us in dark blue cloths. The helicopter landed in thick gusts of wind that seemed about to uproot the trees around us. I was amazed that it had even found space to land. As the cop pushed my head down a little to lead me into the chopper, I saw my mom's face swirling up from the folds of the blindfold.
"Ni sthap eerth ylno, tou stour neetfif," she whispered. A yellow cat was wrapped around her face, its fur in a wild fluff as if it were scared or angry. Its purr was the chopper blades. When the cat came off her head, I saw the face was Catie's.
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I've never considered myself an excitable kind of person, but Whatever these phantasmal beings were, the sight of them touched some deep-rooted fear in my psyche. I panicked. With a scream, I pressed myself against a bookcase. Mike finally saw them - or at least whatever was their equivalent was in his version of reality. He looked upset and annoyed and worried, but not scared. What was *he* seeing?
I saw the girl grab his sleeve and pull him close, whispering something in his ear. Then the things were on us!
It was all I could do not to scream again. The things were even more unnerving up close. They stank like week-old garbage, and their touch was cold and slimy. They twisted me around, forcing my face into the stacks of books, and roughly pulled my arms up and back. As I felt my wrists being bound with something coarse and painful, I noticed one of them hovering around the girl on the floor. It turned its face towards the others and spoke in a voice that sounded like steel being dragged across rocks.
"She is almost ready," it said, "Now we begin with these."
One of them materialized before my face, grinning maniacally, its breath reeking of death and decay. "You are new," it growled. "But soon you will be ours as well." Then it made a motion with one of its appendages ("arms" wasn't quite right to describe what they had) and before I could move or say anything, a thick blue mist shot up and covered my face!
The stench - my God, it was the most disgusting odor I'd ever been exposed to. My gag reflex was working overtime, and it was nothing short of a miracle that I didn't lose every lunch I ever ate! And there was a sort of grinding, roaring noise that permeated the background. I felt myself being tugged and prodded forward, towards what goal I couldn't say.
Suddenly, I felt myself being lifted up and I realized I must be in an elevator. I wanted to ask Mike if he was OK, but I didn't know if he'd be able to hear me over the noise. In fact, I didn't even know if we were still together. I was surprised to find that I was more worried about Mike's safety than my own.
After a few moments, I felt the elevator stop, and the demon-beings began pulling me forward again. Surprisingly, I found that I didn't have to walk - they simply pulled me along like I was on greased roller skates. I was too worried about where I was headed (and whether Mike would be there) to wonder about this, though.
We went along for a while, the disgusting blue cloud covering my face rendering me blind and the ever-present grinding roar leaving me near-deaf. Finally, we came to a stop and I felt the floor begin to drop - another elevator! We went down - and down - and even more down.
Finally, it ground to a stop and I felt myself being flung forward. I stumbled and went down, landing hard on what felt like concrete. I was still too stunned to do anything as something grabbed my arms and peeled away whatever it was that was around my wrists. I felt a presence lean into me. "Soon!" it whispered/growled into my ear. As the grinding noise finally, mercifully, began to recede, the mist across my face dissolved.
Blinking in the unexpectedly bright light, I gratefully gulped in great lungfuls of air. It was dank and mildewy, but after being stuck in that noxious smog cloud, it was like a sweet spring breeze.
"Crap! I hope they didn't bust open a rib!"
"Mike!" I was so overjoyed to see him that I rushed over and, without thinking, gave him a huge hug.
"Ow! Hey, watch it, those goons banged me up pretty good when they chucked me out here!"
"Oops! Oh Mike, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to-"
"Nah, it's okay. I'm fine, I think - just a little rough around the edges." He winced as he stood. "So, where do you think they've dropped us?"
I looked around, and was not too surprised to find we'd been deposited in what looked like a storage room of some sort. "I dunno, maybe a sub-basement? But where's the elevator at?"
For a moment, Mike looked at me like I was mad. Then, with a smirky little grin, he shook his head. "Sorry - I forgot for a moment that we seem to be inhabiting different plains of reality. You say an elevator brought us here?"
"Well," I said a bit uncertainly, "that's what it *felt* like. But now that I think about it, why would demons need elevators?"
"Demons? Okay, we *definitely* didn't have the same experience. I saw a bunch of cops who arrested us, blindfolded us, and then airlifted us by helicopter to here. Wherever," he concluded, "*Here* happens to be."
"Well, it looks like a deep, dark, dank room of some kind to me. What do *you* see?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he said. "In fact, I don't know whether to laugh or cry over it myself."
I was about to ask what he meant by that, but there came a sudden sound from off to our left. Startled, we turned around to be greeted by the sight of a rat, eyeing us with surprise and ratly disdain from a corner.
"Just a rat," I sighed. "Now about this pl-"
Before I could get the rest of my sentence out, I felt Mike push me to the ground. I felt rather than heard something large and angry pass over my head, and then Mike went down, struggling with something I couldn't see.
*************************************************************
((Nannette's turn to drive...))
*************************************
"What kind of games are you playing?" said Gareth. "What other meaning of 'home' is there? How do I find my way out of this labyrinth and back to Southport?" He sounded confused, and angry at being confused. Not much practiced, this one, at keeping a flexible worldview.
Then again, adapting _too_ easily isn't good, either.
"It depends on which Southport, in which incarnation of the multiverse, you wish to get to."
I didn't like the sound of that. Certainly, there have been many people who have at least guessed at the existence of 'multiple universes,' but this made me think of the place that I had months before tried to escape from, that endless Hallway of doors and doors leading each to another world, and the Hallway's master who stole people from their own places to send them elsewhere at his bidding...
"It is difficult to explain," she continued, "but I will try. But not here. This is too dangerous a place, and the explanation will take too long.
"My name is..." She sang a brief trill of music, and then smiled. "To make things easier for you, you may call me Rebecca."
She looked at Gareth then. "You, my fine warrior, must be the Flame. I am the Oracle, of course. It is important that we know which role each of us shall play.
"I am not sure of you yet," Rebecca said to Joan and me. "Are you the Envoy or the Guardian? The Masked One or the Scout? Do not worry that you do not know yet. All shall be revealed in time."
Then Rebecca looked at Narishkeit. "You are not one of the Six. You are not mentioned in the Prophecy. I must read the ancient words again. But again, not here, not now. Those who walk in Shadow abound here, and they will find this place soon. Please, follow me."
She placed her hands on the stone of the wall, and suddenly there was an opening that hadn't existed a moment before. She picked up a lantern and walked into this new passage. Gareth was the first to follow her, his hand on the hilt of his sword. I glanced at Joan, who shrugged and stepped through ahead of me. The opening disappeared as soon as I passed it.
We walked some distance then, Gareth through his stone keep and Joan along her deserted city street and I through my riddled island. I walked beside Joan and asked her if she was well – or as well as could be – and she replied that it did seem warmer to her now. "This Gareth guy – is he for real?" she asked after several minutes.
"As real as any of us are."
"Gee, that helps. I was hoping I was imagining the sword and armor and stuff. And his weird little friend. You did say we weren't all seeing things the same."
"That I did. So what do you see when you look at me?"
She hesitated.
"How are we going to know what each of us sees if we don't talk about it and compare?"
"Well, okay," Joan said. "You, um... your hair is dark and kinda long and needs combing, but you don't have a beard, not even stubble. You have this really white scar down one side of your face, and... um... I think maybe you look like you have pointed ears." She added that last bit in a mumbled whisper, sounding like she expected me to laugh at her, poor kid.
I just nodded. "And what about my clothes?"
"Jeans. Long-sleeved henley. Boots – look like combat boots. And you have rags tied around the palms of your hands." She ducked her head, then glanced back at me. "So how much of that is right?"
"Everything but the clothes, actually, and even that is close.
"Okay, your turn... You're small, with fine-boned features; your eyes are light in color. You're wearing a heavy trench coat over jeans and... a sweatshirt? Your shoes look like the sort one would wear for running."
She gave a tiny laugh, stifled before it could grow. "Sometimes you sound normal, but sometimes you talk weird, almost as weird as Gareth. Where are you from, anyway?"
What was the answer Zephyr's son had used, while he yet lived? "I'm from... north of Andover. Maine. Yeah. North of Andover."
"Well," she said after another silence, "at least we're seeing each other more or less the way we really are. This different environments stuff is scary. I'll be glad when the sun comes up," she added.
_Flash_.
I was flat on my back, with no memory of falling. There was pain, sharp and insistent, through the left side of my head. I couldn't see anything, and I couldn't move. I could hear, though: The faint hum that I had learned to associate with machines run on electricity, with computers and their like. A somewhat deeper-pitched susurration, a ventilation system of some sort. And footsteps, and voices.
"...all six subjects, to some degree, but particularly number four." A woman's voice, that. I felt cold at the sound of it.
"It's still too early to tell." Male voice. "And there is progress with the most recent."
"Not enough. The subjects aren't responding fast enough. I think number four is insane -–"
"-- and not from our doing, is that the problem?"
"We could always substitute someone else." A threat less than subtle, there.
For a moment, silence except for the unseen machines. Then the male voice again.
"What if it isn't? If it's delusion, why do _we_ see it, fer chrissake? Could be what it is. If you believe the report from the sequencing lab. Twenty-six –"
"They made a mistake. They'll run it again and get twenty-three pairs, trust me. Because otherwise part of our project gets shipped off to Utah or someplace, and we have to start over."
I struggled, tried to move, managed to raise my head and upper torso. Somewhere behind me, an alarm shrilled suddenly.
"Dammit, there it goes again." The woman's voice, and hurried footsteps coming toward me. "How are we supposed to do this if they won't stay--?"
_Flicker_.
I fell to my knees, clutching at my forehead.
"—where you are," said Rebecca.
I looked up, Gareth had taken a step toward me, stopped by Rebecca's restraining arm. Then I glanced up, seeking whatever I had hit my head against a moment before.
Nothing. No projecting corner, or jagged stone, or door frame. The corridor's ceiling was far above me; I couldn't have touched it if I tried.
My hand, when I took it away from my head, was smeared with blood.
*************************************************************
I looked at Raven and his bloody head.
"Are you all right? Do you need help?"
Narishkeit peeked from behind my legs. He cocked his head and pursed his lips, but said nothing.
Rebecca called to us. "Come. We cannot waste any more time."
She glanced around at the walls, as if searching for something.
"We are being watched all the time. And my powers are weakened in this place. We must get to somewhere where we will be able to defend ourselves better."
I helped Raven back up, and we continued to follow our mysterious guide down the corridor. I looked around at the walls, trying to find something that would tell me how we were being watched, but the walls were smooth stone, and there was no sign of anything.
Magery.
At the thought, my stomach curled. I had been there in the last war, when the last of the Black Wizards were destroyed. I had been lucky enough not to have been there at the very last battle, of course. There had been no survivors when the last of the Black Wizards had cast that hideous spell. Ten years have gone by, and still nothing will grow where that storm of fire had rained, taking the mages' stronghold along with nearly ten thousand men who had besieged it. Was that it? Had one of the Black Wizards survived, and this place was his stronghold? That would explain how the others saw things other than I did, that they did not see the man I had fought.
I continued on, perhaps a little quicker now that I knew who my enemy was.
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Bill's Turn again
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"Catie!" Mike yelled. "A little help here would be greYEARRRGH!"
I watched in fascinated horror as a large, angry gash opened, tearing through Mike's shirt leaving his arm bleeding.
"What - Mike, I -"
"Get something and GET THIS THING OFF ME!"
Desperately, I looked around the room, finally spotting what looked like an old pushbroom handle by the wall. I grabbed it - it wasn't heavy, but it was solid, and maybe it would do the trick. The only question was what to do with it. From my point of view, Mike was struggling with - and beginning to lose to - a big pile of nothing.
"Catie!"
Praying it would work, I lunged forward. I didn't want to bring the thing down from the top - it might pass through the unseen quarry and inflict even more damage on Mike - so I shoved it about an inch above his stomach and pulled up as hard as I could.
I felt no resistance, and I started to think it had been useless, but suddenly Mike sat up. "Damn, woman, you're stronger than you look! Let’s get out of - look out!"
I whirled, broomstick ready, prepared to meet some monstrosity, but saw nothing. "Mike, what is it? I don't see any - Mike?"
Mike stood there with his mouth hanging open. "It - it's going right *through* you! What the f-"
As he said it, I *felt* something again - it wasn't the same malevolent force that had trapped and deposited us here, just something angry and wild. But while I could affect but not see it, it could see but not affect me.
For which I was very grateful.
"Catie, swing that pipe to your left!"
"Pipe?"
"The one you're holding! Quick, before it loses interest in you and comes back for me!"
I swung the broomstick to my left. "Anything?"
"You grazed it. Take it to your right now! Yes! That's it, spin around and thrust forward! You got it! Swing it again!"
I felt slightly ridiculous. It was for all the world like those actors you see fighting in front of green screens, waiting for the CGI monsters to be edited in later, only Mike assured me I was having a real effect. At his direction, I brought the broomstick down on the concrete two more times - three - four...
"Okay, that's it - you finally cracked its damn skull wide open."
Immediately, I ran towards him, still clutching the stick. "Mike, are you all right? What was that? How did..."
Gingerly, he probed his wound. "I think - Ow! - I'll be okay - when this is over, I may need a tetanus shot, though. And a rabies shot."
"Rabies?"
"Standard procedure after being attack by a wild dog - or whatever that thing is."
"Mike - Mike, I didn't see anything!"
"What?"
"It looked to me like you were fighting empty air."
Mike shook his head. "It wasn't empty air to me! That thing," he said, pointing at the place I'd been hitting the floor, "Was the biggest animal I've ever seen in the wild! Like a cross between the Big Bad Wolf and Cujo!" He panted, though whether from fear or anger I couldn't tell. "What the *hell* is going on?"
"I wish I knew," I said, tossing my makeshift weapon away in disgust. This was all too weird. But what happened next was even weirder.
The broomstick struck the wall opposite me - and the wall, seemingly made out of concrete and mortar, shattered.
Mike and I watched as the room around us flickered and flashed, swiftly morphing from the dank cellar to some sort of "Mad Max"-like wasteland to a view that appeared to be from some sort of space station to a lush tropical jungle. For a moment, I glimpsed the remains of the truly monstrous thing that had torn Mike's arm open. Finally, the room winked once and vanished, leaving us in a large chamber of some sort. It was about 40 feet or so square, with walls of what looked like deep blue rubberized plastic, and filled with oddly-shaped objects that seemed to be made of the same material as the wall. The room was lined with brightly glowing bulbs or lights of some kind - except where the "broom", now revealed as another column of similar build, had punched a hole in it.
Beyond the breach, we could see a corridor of some kind. At that moment, alarms started going off - raucous blares and flashing crimson lights assaulted our senses. "ALERT! ALERT!" a pre-recorded voice screamed, "BREACH IN SCENARIOS DLM-125-GAMMA, MEV-088-OMICRON! CONTAINMENT REQUIRED! PRIORITY RED!"
"What the hell *is* all this?" Mike exclaimed. "We can't - Catie! Our clothes!"
I gasped - the clothing we'd been wearing had also vanished. Mike and I were now wearing jumpsuits made of some goldish-looking metallic stuff. Mike was covered head to toe in his, with only his face visible. A quick check confirmed mine was the same.
"We've got to get out of here!" I said. "Find out what's *really* going on!"
"No argument there," he growled. "C'mon!"
We made our way through the "hole" and into the corridor. It was dull grey,lit only by the flashing lights. The recorded alarm was uncomfortable loud. Every few feet, cryptic notations were stenciled on the wall. That they were in English instead of Russian or Martian or something was *some* comfort, but not much.
We rounded a corner to find ourselves confronted by a door of impressive size, one that looked as if had been built to withstand a nuclear blast. Stenciled across it in huge letters were the words "MISSION INDIGO". Beside it, there was a keypad access, with an LCD displayed. It read "LOCKDOWN - NO ACCESS".
"Any ideas?" I asked Mike.
Before he could say anything, we heard someone yell "HALT! MAKE NO MOVES!"
We snapped back around to find several armored and armed figures confronting us. There was no insignia I could see, no name tags, nothing to identify who they were. Their faces were obscured by the tinted plates on their helmets.
"Who - who are you?" I asked. "Where are we? What's going on?"
"NO COMMUNICATIONS ALLOWED," came the amplified reply. "YOU WILL SURRENDER YOURSELVES WITHOUT DELAY."
"Look, you," Mike said angrily, "We've had just about enough! Someone's gonna tell us what's going on or..."
"NO COMMUNICATIONS ALLOWED. SURRENDER NOW."
"Like hell!" he growled, charging forward.
The response was a sudden sound from the weapons they held. I felt my legs turn to mush and my mind beginning to shut down. The last thing I saw before the world blanked out was Mike collapsing on the ground next to me.
---------------------------------
Nannette's turn...
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"We are being watched all the time," Rebecca said, and a chill went through me again, because I realized that it had been Rebecca’s voice that I heard a few moments ago, in that other place -- or whatever it was. "And my powers are weakened in this place. We must get to where we will be better able to defend ourselves."
Gareth glanced quickly at the walls, seeking, perhaps, some sign of these watchers that Rebecca did not name. If he saw anything, he didn’t say so. He helped me to stand, and our mismatched group continued following one whom I was now starting to fear was not the benevolent guide she seemed.
As we walked, I heard a faint sound like howling wind, although we were surely too far into the island’s caverns to hear anything from outside.
_Flicker._
Lurid red light for a barely perceived second, and then a sight which I had seen but few times and only in recent years, a sky full of stars as they appear in the high and far places where there is no air to gentle their light. I had taken perhaps two steps before there was yet again the strange flickering, and I saw a forest of trees choking on their own greenness. And once more, and we walked beneath barren clouds, across ground hard and sere and crater-pocked.
_Flicker._
We turned a corner, and walked into the source of the red light, and the alarms that I had mistaken for the sound of wind. The passageway ended at an enormous door with the words MISSION INDIGO written across it, and in front of the door were several people. The ones standing all wore armor of a decidedly non-metallic material, with dark-tinted faces to their helmets, and carried weapons that looked like short, thick-bodied rifles. The ones on the floor were not so armed or armored, and I recognized them. Catie McBride and the man in the leather jacket.
The strangers turned their weapons on us, and fired. There came a pulsing thrum, and a cold numbing wave.
This time, I felt myself fall, but nothing after.
I woke in darkness, and lay for a moment unmoving, hoping that the dizziness I felt would go away.
"He’s awake," I heard Catie say. She sounded like she was less than a dozen feet away.
"What’s it matter?" a man said, sounding tired and more than a little exasperated. "I told you, they’re not real." That voice I recognized as well -- the man in the leather jacket.
"Oh, yeah?" Catie said. "If this is some sort of VR game gone wrong shouldn’t we at least try to be nice to characters who may be able to help us?"
"Catie?" So what do you say to people who believe you’re not real? Maybe it was better to pretend that I hadn’t heard them just now. "Who else is here?" I asked.
"Just who you see."
I hesitated. "I don’t _see_ anyone," I said at last, "or anything."
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Wyatt continues, finally!
--------------------------------------------------------------------
The helicopter dropped us off into some kind of compound resembling an 80's movie version of a post-nuclear wasteland. Barbed wire fences ranged over ragged dry grass hills. Remnants of wooden structures were strewn about the field. Here and there old machinery and engine parts were piles in decrepit heaps. Packs of feral dogs hunted through the rubble. A huge, black eyed mongrel peered up at us from within a cave of trash and growled menacingly.
Catie wanted to know what I saw.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I answered. "In fact, I don't know whether to laugh or cry over it myself."
Suddenly the beast leapt at us, tearing with its fangs and claws ravenously. I barely had time to push Catie down before it was on me. I was quickly losing the fight. It was strong and evil, rearing up and biting at my neck and arms.
Catie stared wide-eyed, apparently stunned.
"Catie!" I yelled. "A little help here would be-"
It tore into my arm as she started swinging at it with a pipe. As she pounded and prodded it, it turned on her. Finally free, I could fight back, and I kicked it, trying to get it to come back to me rather than mauling the poor girl. But I saw, as she fought it, that though it tried to hurt her it passed through her like a ghost. I kept having to tell her where to swing to hit it - I started to wonder if perhaps she was going blind.
Finally she scored a direct hit and the thing went down and lay still. "Okay, that's it - you finally cracked its damn skull wide open," I said.
She ran to me, still clutching the pipe. "Mike, are you all right? What was that? How did..."
I told her I would need a rabies and a tetanus shot. She gave me an odd look and told me she had seen nothing, no dog-wolf thing, no fangs and claws. To her it was like fighting air.
"What the hell is going on?" I said.
Then she tossed the pipe away and the world exploded. The sky flashed gray around me and closed in until I could see her dark gray corridor all around us, then a curving walkway and viewscreens like a space station, then a tropical jungle. And suddenly we were in a room of deep blue rubberized plastic, the floor full of cylinders and projectors of all kinds, everything glowing under bright white lights. One of the cylinders lay on the floor where the pipe had been, and above it a square of white paneling perhaps three by three was ajar on the wall, revealing a shadowy, tiled hall.
Alarms were sounding, screaming about a break in the scenarios and containment. Our clothes were gone, replaced by cheesy metallic gold jumpsuits like in a bad sci-fi movie. We stepped through the hole in the wall and hustled down the hall. I desperately tried to recall anything about Alex's video game that I'd been helping him test in LA before heading north. It was hard to concentrate, though, I was so panicked and crazed by the noise and sights. There had to be a way out.
A giant blast door filled the hallway as we rounded the corner. In large letters it read "MISSION INDIGO." Beside it, the keypad said "LOCKDOWN - NO ACCESS."
"Any ideas," Catie asked.
Footsteps behind us. I spun. Five or six large men in body armor and helmets and holding what looked like assault rifles were facing us, guns at ready. Catie and I demanded to know what was going on. When they refused to tell us I charged, out of my mind with rage.
They fired.
***
I was afraid to open my eyes. The air felt pure and good here, though. I felt that I was not alone, but surrounded by others who might not be conscious. Slowly I wenched up my eyelid. Catie was awake and watching me, rocking back and forth impatiently on a plastic chair in what looked like a doctor's waiting room. A table in one corner offered magazines. A fern grew in the other under a skylight.
"Oh good, you're awake," said Catie.
"How's that good?" I breathed.
I now saw the others lying around me, everyone spread out on thick blue mats. They were all the ones from the hotel room, along with two new women, one rather disheveled and wearing a long coat, the other quite stunning. I couldn't keep my gaze from this second one with the sharp, smooth face, the way her tiny nostrils flared slightly as she slept, the eddies of black hair streaming from her head, partially obscuring that beautiful, pale face. I sat and looked back at Catie. She was back in her skirt and blouse, the VR outfit no longer apparent, though I was beginning to be convinced that was the answer.
The man with the pointy ears stirred somewhat.
"He's awake now," Catie said.
"What's it matter?" I asked. "I told you, they're not real."
"Oh, yeah?" Catie said. She started babbling about how we should be nice to imaginary characters who could help us, but I had spotted a door with a restroom sign in the otherwise doorless room, and I made for it before she could say much.
I locked the door behind me and stared into the mirror at my bleary eyes and unkempt hair, my wrinkled and torn clothes. The silence and privacy were breathtaking after so many hourse with friendly but frantic Catie. The restroom was clean and as well appointed as one I'd expect in a nice hotel.
I washed my hands slowly, then my face, and began undressing. If this was a VR environment and I was still wearing the VR outfit, only seeing it as my clothes, what would happen if I took them off? Would the world crumble away again? I stripped to my underwear and watched myself in the mirror. Nothing changed. I slid the door open a crack and looked out. The one with the pointy ears and the leprechaun man were still there. Confused again, I redressed and stayed in the restroom a long time.
After many minutes I heard a door opening in the waiting room. It must have been a hidden door, because I certainly hadn't seen one.
A loud voice called, "Catie and Mike!"
"Let me guess," I said to her. "The world recently got very strange, and now you're lost. Welcome to the club."
Before she had a chance to respond, the swordsman demanded to know who she was and where she came from. She threw his question back at him. "Who are you? How about answering your own questions first?"
"My name is Gareth. I come from Southport and am a freesword. The little one is called Narishkeit and is a boggle. This gentleman is named Raven. That is who we are. And you are?"
His way of speaking was a bit off. Awkward, like maybe the language he spoke wasn't the one I heard, and something got lost in the translation.
"I'm Joan," she said. "From Fairbanks - if this still _is_ Fairbanks."
He didn't hear her, though, because something up the corridor caught his attention. Gareth suddenly drew his sword and pushed Joan behind him. Then he took several paces forward and began waving his sword about as if fighting an imaginary opponent. After all the strangenesses of these last few days, I'd have believed that there _was_ someone else there, but I heard no clash of metal against metal whenever Gareth 'parried' a blow, nor any sound of blade striking flesh or armor. And I thought that if his opponent were real, he'd have had to fight better or be defeated.
"What is he _doing_?" asked Joan.
"Not sure. Looks like shadow boxing, but with weapons."
Narishkeit looked at me strangely but, for once, didn't giggle. "We don't see the shadow that he fights," said the boggle. "And a sword is no use against shadows, even if they are in a box."
As abruptly as he'd started 'fighting', Gareth stopped. He strode to where his pack lay and pulled out a rag, which he used to wipe his sword, although no blood was visible on the blade.
"Do any of you," he said, "have an idea of who that swordsman was, and why he would want us dead?"
"What are you talking about?" said Joan.
"What swordsman?" I asked.
"That one there." Gareth pointed to a spot on the floor.
I glanced at Joan. "There's nothing there," she said.
Gareth looked at both of us. "I tell you that there is a man there, lying dead in his own blood."
Narishkeit giggled.
"We should not stay here," said Gareth. "He may have had companions, and I do not wish to have to fight several men at once."
So I led them through the corridors and passages of that hollow mountain, toward the chambers I had made into a living space for myself. No one else suggested that we split up, and I was unwilling, after weeks of isolation, to go back to being alone. Joan walked with me between her and the other two; I think she decided that she could trust me more, since I wasn't carrying a weapon.
"Hey, this block is different!" she exclaimed a few minutes later. "Before, it was the same buildings over and over... But it doesn't look familiar, either," she added.
"What do you see?" She gave me an odd look.
"We're not all seeing the same thing," I said. "Not our surroundings, anyway." Then I told her, briefly, what the others had described to me: Catie's oddly furnished ballroom, Gareth's stone keep with nameless things chittering and chattering within the walls.
"We're walking on a sidewalk in a city. I think it's Fairbanks, but it's not any part of the city that I recognize. There are no cars on the street, and no people. Like everyone disappeared, and we're the only ones left." She described each building that she saw in turn, until we arrived at my room.
"We're inside a clock shop now," Joan said, turning in a slow circle and staring at the walls.
"The clocks all show different times. Some are the kind that tell the date, too, and those can't even agree on the _year_. Twenty-nine sixty-_what_?" She shook her head. "Weird."
_Flicker._
I thought nothing had changed, until it changed back. For a moment the walls had been quarried and set blocks of stone... Gareth's place, I assumed.
_Flicker._
In the distance I heard shouting, and gun shots, and the squeal of an automobile's tires. I started to step out into the corridor, just as someone else stepped in.
"Where are the others?" Dark hair, eyes a definite green even by the uncertain light of torches... I'd never seen her before, although something about her seemed familiar. "There should be six of you; I see only three."
She tilted her head, listening to something that only she heard. "That's right - it's not time yet."
Eyes as green as dragonfire, or lasers... Why did she look so familiar? "Whatever you do, _stay together_. It's very important. When the others show up, don't let them get separated, either."
"Will that help us to get home?" Gareth asked.
"Depends on what you mean by 'home'," she replied.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I was starting to wish I'd just stayed in my little surreal room in the little surreal Motel 3 on the border of sanity.
We'd made an escape from the town, but now I found the borderlands equally oppressive, a broad almond orchard without end. At least we'd lost the cops. The last shot had broken the rear window almost a quarter hour ago, and now the sounds of their cars were gone, overtaken by a deadly calm, the heavy brushing of tree limbs coming together in the wind.
I pulled off the road into the thickest stand I could find and skidded down a short incline behind the trees. An almond came loose from a branch above us and pelted off the front window as we stopped.
As I opened the door, a cascade of glass fell from my seat. I felt blood trickling down my cheek. "I don't think the cops will find us here," I said, "but we better abandon the car, just in case! With the glass shot out the back, it's too conspicuous."
"Uh, sure, that sounds reasonable," Catie said. "But, wait, listen, why were those police after us?"
I glowered at her and snapped an angry retort before remembering she had no idea what had really just happened. "Oh, yeah. That's right, you *didn't* see any of it. Sorry, I forget we have a bit of a perception problem."
"That's all right," she shrugged. "For a second there, though, I did see them."
"What? When!? How?!"
She'd hit her head during the trip. Now, if only I could knock some sense back into myself, maybe I could start to figure this mess out. I stopped and put my hand on the trunk of one of the dark trees while we talked. The solid, pitted surface somehow reassured me.
"Careful, you're pushing the books together," she said
"Books?" I looked behind me. "Sorry, all I can see is - wait! Did you hear something?" Ragged, tortured breathing. The gasps came at regular intervals, but each exhale sounded weaker.
Catie wanted to go investigate. I was still too worried about the cops suddenly showing up and about finding a way out of the labyrinth of trees to care about some new prop or character in this puppet play. But she was adamant. She seemed about to go off by herself, and she gave me a final rather frightening but cute glare. I sighed and threw up my hands. "Fine. It's your mission - just don't get us killed."
Further in, the trees grew denser. We were putting some distance between ourselves and the road, which made me slightly more comfortable. Over a small hill the almond trees grew sparse, and a field seemed to stretch almost to the horizon.
"There!" I said. "By that big pine tree!" A girl lay curled at the base of the tree, dressed in dull olive pants and a peasant blouse.
Catie followed me as I went to check the girl. I couldn't tell if she was asleep or unconscious. Her face felt too warm.
Suddenly, the girl's eyes popped open, fixing on something behind me. Wide-eyed, she pointed and screamed. Catie and I whirled around in panic. "What?!" I yelled. "I don't see anything!"
Catie screamed, and then I did see them. Four flak-jacketed cops appeared from the dense edge of the trees, pistols drawn.
"You're coming with us," said one of them as the other three closed in.
The girl in the peasant blouse yanked on my arm, pulling me down closer to her. "Remember Indigo," she whispered in my ear. Two of the cops had me and Catie roughly up against the tree, our hands behind our heads while they handcuffed us. I heard the third one say, "This girl's dead," before the sound of helicopter blades above us bent his words.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I looked at the woman with a puzzled look on my face.
"What kind of games are you playing? What other meaning to 'home' is there? How do I find my way out of this labyrinth and back to Southport?" I demanded of her.
"It depends on which Southport, in which incarnation of the multiverse you wish to get to. It is difficult to explain, but I will try. But not here, this is too dangerous a place, and the explanation will take too long."
"My name is ..."
She sang a complex series of notes, and smiled at our confusion. She said "To make things easier for you, you may call me Rebecca."
She brushed her dark hair out of her eyes and looked around. "You, my fine warrior, must be the Flame. I am the Oracle, of course. It is important that we know which role each of us shall play."
She turned to Joan and Raven. "I am not sure of you yet. Are you the Envoy or the Guardian? The Masked One or the Scout?" To their puzzled looks, she replied, "Do not worry that you do not know at this time. All shall be revealed in time."
She looked down at Narishkeit.
"However, I am not sure about you. You are not one of the Six, you are not mentioned in the Prophecy. I must read the ancient words again. But, again, not here, not now. Those who walk in Shadow abound here, and they will find this place soon. Please, follow me."
Rebecca placed her hands upon the wall behind her, and pushed slightly. The stones moved inward, revealing a passageway behind it. She took a torch from a sconce in the wall and began to walk down the passage.
I followed her closely, my hand ready on the hilt of my sword.
The others followed. Once Raven, who was bringing up the rear, had stepped into the passage, the door slid closed behind him, without Rebecca having doing anything, or at least anything I could see. The others looked at each other, and then at me. I shrugged, and continued to follow this woman into the unknown.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The cops were blindfolding us in dark blue cloths. The helicopter landed in thick gusts of wind that seemed about to uproot the trees around us. I was amazed that it had even found space to land. As the cop pushed my head down a little to lead me into the chopper, I saw my mom's face swirling up from the folds of the blindfold.
"Ni sthap eerth ylno, tou stour neetfif," she whispered. A yellow cat was wrapped around her face, its fur in a wild fluff as if it were scared or angry. Its purr was the chopper blades. When the cat came off her head, I saw the face was Catie's.
*************************************************************
I've never considered myself an excitable kind of person, but Whatever these phantasmal beings were, the sight of them touched some deep-rooted fear in my psyche. I panicked. With a scream, I pressed myself against a bookcase. Mike finally saw them - or at least whatever was their equivalent was in his version of reality. He looked upset and annoyed and worried, but not scared. What was *he* seeing?
I saw the girl grab his sleeve and pull him close, whispering something in his ear. Then the things were on us!
It was all I could do not to scream again. The things were even more unnerving up close. They stank like week-old garbage, and their touch was cold and slimy. They twisted me around, forcing my face into the stacks of books, and roughly pulled my arms up and back. As I felt my wrists being bound with something coarse and painful, I noticed one of them hovering around the girl on the floor. It turned its face towards the others and spoke in a voice that sounded like steel being dragged across rocks.
"She is almost ready," it said, "Now we begin with these."
One of them materialized before my face, grinning maniacally, its breath reeking of death and decay. "You are new," it growled. "But soon you will be ours as well." Then it made a motion with one of its appendages ("arms" wasn't quite right to describe what they had) and before I could move or say anything, a thick blue mist shot up and covered my face!
The stench - my God, it was the most disgusting odor I'd ever been exposed to. My gag reflex was working overtime, and it was nothing short of a miracle that I didn't lose every lunch I ever ate! And there was a sort of grinding, roaring noise that permeated the background. I felt myself being tugged and prodded forward, towards what goal I couldn't say.
Suddenly, I felt myself being lifted up and I realized I must be in an elevator. I wanted to ask Mike if he was OK, but I didn't know if he'd be able to hear me over the noise. In fact, I didn't even know if we were still together. I was surprised to find that I was more worried about Mike's safety than my own.
After a few moments, I felt the elevator stop, and the demon-beings began pulling me forward again. Surprisingly, I found that I didn't have to walk - they simply pulled me along like I was on greased roller skates. I was too worried about where I was headed (and whether Mike would be there) to wonder about this, though.
We went along for a while, the disgusting blue cloud covering my face rendering me blind and the ever-present grinding roar leaving me near-deaf. Finally, we came to a stop and I felt the floor begin to drop - another elevator! We went down - and down - and even more down.
Finally, it ground to a stop and I felt myself being flung forward. I stumbled and went down, landing hard on what felt like concrete. I was still too stunned to do anything as something grabbed my arms and peeled away whatever it was that was around my wrists. I felt a presence lean into me. "Soon!" it whispered/growled into my ear. As the grinding noise finally, mercifully, began to recede, the mist across my face dissolved.
Blinking in the unexpectedly bright light, I gratefully gulped in great lungfuls of air. It was dank and mildewy, but after being stuck in that noxious smog cloud, it was like a sweet spring breeze.
"Crap! I hope they didn't bust open a rib!"
"Mike!" I was so overjoyed to see him that I rushed over and, without thinking, gave him a huge hug.
"Ow! Hey, watch it, those goons banged me up pretty good when they chucked me out here!"
"Oops! Oh Mike, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to-"
"Nah, it's okay. I'm fine, I think - just a little rough around the edges." He winced as he stood. "So, where do you think they've dropped us?"
I looked around, and was not too surprised to find we'd been deposited in what looked like a storage room of some sort. "I dunno, maybe a sub-basement? But where's the elevator at?"
For a moment, Mike looked at me like I was mad. Then, with a smirky little grin, he shook his head. "Sorry - I forgot for a moment that we seem to be inhabiting different plains of reality. You say an elevator brought us here?"
"Well," I said a bit uncertainly, "that's what it *felt* like. But now that I think about it, why would demons need elevators?"
"Demons? Okay, we *definitely* didn't have the same experience. I saw a bunch of cops who arrested us, blindfolded us, and then airlifted us by helicopter to here. Wherever," he concluded, "*Here* happens to be."
"Well, it looks like a deep, dark, dank room of some kind to me. What do *you* see?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he said. "In fact, I don't know whether to laugh or cry over it myself."
I was about to ask what he meant by that, but there came a sudden sound from off to our left. Startled, we turned around to be greeted by the sight of a rat, eyeing us with surprise and ratly disdain from a corner.
"Just a rat," I sighed. "Now about this pl-"
Before I could get the rest of my sentence out, I felt Mike push me to the ground. I felt rather than heard something large and angry pass over my head, and then Mike went down, struggling with something I couldn't see.
*************************************************************
((Nannette's turn to drive...))
*************************************
"What kind of games are you playing?" said Gareth. "What other meaning of 'home' is there? How do I find my way out of this labyrinth and back to Southport?" He sounded confused, and angry at being confused. Not much practiced, this one, at keeping a flexible worldview.
Then again, adapting _too_ easily isn't good, either.
"It depends on which Southport, in which incarnation of the multiverse, you wish to get to."
I didn't like the sound of that. Certainly, there have been many people who have at least guessed at the existence of 'multiple universes,' but this made me think of the place that I had months before tried to escape from, that endless Hallway of doors and doors leading each to another world, and the Hallway's master who stole people from their own places to send them elsewhere at his bidding...
"It is difficult to explain," she continued, "but I will try. But not here. This is too dangerous a place, and the explanation will take too long.
"My name is..." She sang a brief trill of music, and then smiled. "To make things easier for you, you may call me Rebecca."
She looked at Gareth then. "You, my fine warrior, must be the Flame. I am the Oracle, of course. It is important that we know which role each of us shall play.
"I am not sure of you yet," Rebecca said to Joan and me. "Are you the Envoy or the Guardian? The Masked One or the Scout? Do not worry that you do not know yet. All shall be revealed in time."
Then Rebecca looked at Narishkeit. "You are not one of the Six. You are not mentioned in the Prophecy. I must read the ancient words again. But again, not here, not now. Those who walk in Shadow abound here, and they will find this place soon. Please, follow me."
She placed her hands on the stone of the wall, and suddenly there was an opening that hadn't existed a moment before. She picked up a lantern and walked into this new passage. Gareth was the first to follow her, his hand on the hilt of his sword. I glanced at Joan, who shrugged and stepped through ahead of me. The opening disappeared as soon as I passed it.
We walked some distance then, Gareth through his stone keep and Joan along her deserted city street and I through my riddled island. I walked beside Joan and asked her if she was well – or as well as could be – and she replied that it did seem warmer to her now. "This Gareth guy – is he for real?" she asked after several minutes.
"As real as any of us are."
"Gee, that helps. I was hoping I was imagining the sword and armor and stuff. And his weird little friend. You did say we weren't all seeing things the same."
"That I did. So what do you see when you look at me?"
She hesitated.
"How are we going to know what each of us sees if we don't talk about it and compare?"
"Well, okay," Joan said. "You, um... your hair is dark and kinda long and needs combing, but you don't have a beard, not even stubble. You have this really white scar down one side of your face, and... um... I think maybe you look like you have pointed ears." She added that last bit in a mumbled whisper, sounding like she expected me to laugh at her, poor kid.
I just nodded. "And what about my clothes?"
"Jeans. Long-sleeved henley. Boots – look like combat boots. And you have rags tied around the palms of your hands." She ducked her head, then glanced back at me. "So how much of that is right?"
"Everything but the clothes, actually, and even that is close.
"Okay, your turn... You're small, with fine-boned features; your eyes are light in color. You're wearing a heavy trench coat over jeans and... a sweatshirt? Your shoes look like the sort one would wear for running."
She gave a tiny laugh, stifled before it could grow. "Sometimes you sound normal, but sometimes you talk weird, almost as weird as Gareth. Where are you from, anyway?"
What was the answer Zephyr's son had used, while he yet lived? "I'm from... north of Andover. Maine. Yeah. North of Andover."
"Well," she said after another silence, "at least we're seeing each other more or less the way we really are. This different environments stuff is scary. I'll be glad when the sun comes up," she added.
_Flash_.
I was flat on my back, with no memory of falling. There was pain, sharp and insistent, through the left side of my head. I couldn't see anything, and I couldn't move. I could hear, though: The faint hum that I had learned to associate with machines run on electricity, with computers and their like. A somewhat deeper-pitched susurration, a ventilation system of some sort. And footsteps, and voices.
"...all six subjects, to some degree, but particularly number four." A woman's voice, that. I felt cold at the sound of it.
"It's still too early to tell." Male voice. "And there is progress with the most recent."
"Not enough. The subjects aren't responding fast enough. I think number four is insane -–"
"-- and not from our doing, is that the problem?"
"We could always substitute someone else." A threat less than subtle, there.
For a moment, silence except for the unseen machines. Then the male voice again.
"What if it isn't? If it's delusion, why do _we_ see it, fer chrissake? Could be what it is. If you believe the report from the sequencing lab. Twenty-six –"
"They made a mistake. They'll run it again and get twenty-three pairs, trust me. Because otherwise part of our project gets shipped off to Utah or someplace, and we have to start over."
I struggled, tried to move, managed to raise my head and upper torso. Somewhere behind me, an alarm shrilled suddenly.
"Dammit, there it goes again." The woman's voice, and hurried footsteps coming toward me. "How are we supposed to do this if they won't stay--?"
_Flicker_.
I fell to my knees, clutching at my forehead.
"—where you are," said Rebecca.
I looked up, Gareth had taken a step toward me, stopped by Rebecca's restraining arm. Then I glanced up, seeking whatever I had hit my head against a moment before.
Nothing. No projecting corner, or jagged stone, or door frame. The corridor's ceiling was far above me; I couldn't have touched it if I tried.
My hand, when I took it away from my head, was smeared with blood.
*************************************************************
I looked at Raven and his bloody head.
"Are you all right? Do you need help?"
Narishkeit peeked from behind my legs. He cocked his head and pursed his lips, but said nothing.
Rebecca called to us. "Come. We cannot waste any more time."
She glanced around at the walls, as if searching for something.
"We are being watched all the time. And my powers are weakened in this place. We must get to somewhere where we will be able to defend ourselves better."
I helped Raven back up, and we continued to follow our mysterious guide down the corridor. I looked around at the walls, trying to find something that would tell me how we were being watched, but the walls were smooth stone, and there was no sign of anything.
Magery.
At the thought, my stomach curled. I had been there in the last war, when the last of the Black Wizards were destroyed. I had been lucky enough not to have been there at the very last battle, of course. There had been no survivors when the last of the Black Wizards had cast that hideous spell. Ten years have gone by, and still nothing will grow where that storm of fire had rained, taking the mages' stronghold along with nearly ten thousand men who had besieged it. Was that it? Had one of the Black Wizards survived, and this place was his stronghold? That would explain how the others saw things other than I did, that they did not see the man I had fought.
I continued on, perhaps a little quicker now that I knew who my enemy was.
*************************************************************
Bill's Turn again
*************************************************************
"Catie!" Mike yelled. "A little help here would be greYEARRRGH!"
I watched in fascinated horror as a large, angry gash opened, tearing through Mike's shirt leaving his arm bleeding.
"What - Mike, I -"
"Get something and GET THIS THING OFF ME!"
Desperately, I looked around the room, finally spotting what looked like an old pushbroom handle by the wall. I grabbed it - it wasn't heavy, but it was solid, and maybe it would do the trick. The only question was what to do with it. From my point of view, Mike was struggling with - and beginning to lose to - a big pile of nothing.
"Catie!"
Praying it would work, I lunged forward. I didn't want to bring the thing down from the top - it might pass through the unseen quarry and inflict even more damage on Mike - so I shoved it about an inch above his stomach and pulled up as hard as I could.
I felt no resistance, and I started to think it had been useless, but suddenly Mike sat up. "Damn, woman, you're stronger than you look! Let’s get out of - look out!"
I whirled, broomstick ready, prepared to meet some monstrosity, but saw nothing. "Mike, what is it? I don't see any - Mike?"
Mike stood there with his mouth hanging open. "It - it's going right *through* you! What the f-"
As he said it, I *felt* something again - it wasn't the same malevolent force that had trapped and deposited us here, just something angry and wild. But while I could affect but not see it, it could see but not affect me.
For which I was very grateful.
"Catie, swing that pipe to your left!"
"Pipe?"
"The one you're holding! Quick, before it loses interest in you and comes back for me!"
I swung the broomstick to my left. "Anything?"
"You grazed it. Take it to your right now! Yes! That's it, spin around and thrust forward! You got it! Swing it again!"
I felt slightly ridiculous. It was for all the world like those actors you see fighting in front of green screens, waiting for the CGI monsters to be edited in later, only Mike assured me I was having a real effect. At his direction, I brought the broomstick down on the concrete two more times - three - four...
"Okay, that's it - you finally cracked its damn skull wide open."
Immediately, I ran towards him, still clutching the stick. "Mike, are you all right? What was that? How did..."
Gingerly, he probed his wound. "I think - Ow! - I'll be okay - when this is over, I may need a tetanus shot, though. And a rabies shot."
"Rabies?"
"Standard procedure after being attack by a wild dog - or whatever that thing is."
"Mike - Mike, I didn't see anything!"
"What?"
"It looked to me like you were fighting empty air."
Mike shook his head. "It wasn't empty air to me! That thing," he said, pointing at the place I'd been hitting the floor, "Was the biggest animal I've ever seen in the wild! Like a cross between the Big Bad Wolf and Cujo!" He panted, though whether from fear or anger I couldn't tell. "What the *hell* is going on?"
"I wish I knew," I said, tossing my makeshift weapon away in disgust. This was all too weird. But what happened next was even weirder.
The broomstick struck the wall opposite me - and the wall, seemingly made out of concrete and mortar, shattered.
Mike and I watched as the room around us flickered and flashed, swiftly morphing from the dank cellar to some sort of "Mad Max"-like wasteland to a view that appeared to be from some sort of space station to a lush tropical jungle. For a moment, I glimpsed the remains of the truly monstrous thing that had torn Mike's arm open. Finally, the room winked once and vanished, leaving us in a large chamber of some sort. It was about 40 feet or so square, with walls of what looked like deep blue rubberized plastic, and filled with oddly-shaped objects that seemed to be made of the same material as the wall. The room was lined with brightly glowing bulbs or lights of some kind - except where the "broom", now revealed as another column of similar build, had punched a hole in it.
Beyond the breach, we could see a corridor of some kind. At that moment, alarms started going off - raucous blares and flashing crimson lights assaulted our senses. "ALERT! ALERT!" a pre-recorded voice screamed, "BREACH IN SCENARIOS DLM-125-GAMMA, MEV-088-OMICRON! CONTAINMENT REQUIRED! PRIORITY RED!"
"What the hell *is* all this?" Mike exclaimed. "We can't - Catie! Our clothes!"
I gasped - the clothing we'd been wearing had also vanished. Mike and I were now wearing jumpsuits made of some goldish-looking metallic stuff. Mike was covered head to toe in his, with only his face visible. A quick check confirmed mine was the same.
"We've got to get out of here!" I said. "Find out what's *really* going on!"
"No argument there," he growled. "C'mon!"
We made our way through the "hole" and into the corridor. It was dull grey,lit only by the flashing lights. The recorded alarm was uncomfortable loud. Every few feet, cryptic notations were stenciled on the wall. That they were in English instead of Russian or Martian or something was *some* comfort, but not much.
We rounded a corner to find ourselves confronted by a door of impressive size, one that looked as if had been built to withstand a nuclear blast. Stenciled across it in huge letters were the words "MISSION INDIGO". Beside it, there was a keypad access, with an LCD displayed. It read "LOCKDOWN - NO ACCESS".
"Any ideas?" I asked Mike.
Before he could say anything, we heard someone yell "HALT! MAKE NO MOVES!"
We snapped back around to find several armored and armed figures confronting us. There was no insignia I could see, no name tags, nothing to identify who they were. Their faces were obscured by the tinted plates on their helmets.
"Who - who are you?" I asked. "Where are we? What's going on?"
"NO COMMUNICATIONS ALLOWED," came the amplified reply. "YOU WILL SURRENDER YOURSELVES WITHOUT DELAY."
"Look, you," Mike said angrily, "We've had just about enough! Someone's gonna tell us what's going on or..."
"NO COMMUNICATIONS ALLOWED. SURRENDER NOW."
"Like hell!" he growled, charging forward.
The response was a sudden sound from the weapons they held. I felt my legs turn to mush and my mind beginning to shut down. The last thing I saw before the world blanked out was Mike collapsing on the ground next to me.
---------------------------------
Nannette's turn...
---------------------------------
"We are being watched all the time," Rebecca said, and a chill went through me again, because I realized that it had been Rebecca’s voice that I heard a few moments ago, in that other place -- or whatever it was. "And my powers are weakened in this place. We must get to where we will be better able to defend ourselves."
Gareth glanced quickly at the walls, seeking, perhaps, some sign of these watchers that Rebecca did not name. If he saw anything, he didn’t say so. He helped me to stand, and our mismatched group continued following one whom I was now starting to fear was not the benevolent guide she seemed.
As we walked, I heard a faint sound like howling wind, although we were surely too far into the island’s caverns to hear anything from outside.
_Flicker._
Lurid red light for a barely perceived second, and then a sight which I had seen but few times and only in recent years, a sky full of stars as they appear in the high and far places where there is no air to gentle their light. I had taken perhaps two steps before there was yet again the strange flickering, and I saw a forest of trees choking on their own greenness. And once more, and we walked beneath barren clouds, across ground hard and sere and crater-pocked.
_Flicker._
We turned a corner, and walked into the source of the red light, and the alarms that I had mistaken for the sound of wind. The passageway ended at an enormous door with the words MISSION INDIGO written across it, and in front of the door were several people. The ones standing all wore armor of a decidedly non-metallic material, with dark-tinted faces to their helmets, and carried weapons that looked like short, thick-bodied rifles. The ones on the floor were not so armed or armored, and I recognized them. Catie McBride and the man in the leather jacket.
The strangers turned their weapons on us, and fired. There came a pulsing thrum, and a cold numbing wave.
This time, I felt myself fall, but nothing after.
I woke in darkness, and lay for a moment unmoving, hoping that the dizziness I felt would go away.
"He’s awake," I heard Catie say. She sounded like she was less than a dozen feet away.
"What’s it matter?" a man said, sounding tired and more than a little exasperated. "I told you, they’re not real." That voice I recognized as well -- the man in the leather jacket.
"Oh, yeah?" Catie said. "If this is some sort of VR game gone wrong shouldn’t we at least try to be nice to characters who may be able to help us?"
"Catie?" So what do you say to people who believe you’re not real? Maybe it was better to pretend that I hadn’t heard them just now. "Who else is here?" I asked.
"Just who you see."
I hesitated. "I don’t _see_ anyone," I said at last, "or anything."
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Wyatt continues, finally!
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The helicopter dropped us off into some kind of compound resembling an 80's movie version of a post-nuclear wasteland. Barbed wire fences ranged over ragged dry grass hills. Remnants of wooden structures were strewn about the field. Here and there old machinery and engine parts were piles in decrepit heaps. Packs of feral dogs hunted through the rubble. A huge, black eyed mongrel peered up at us from within a cave of trash and growled menacingly.
Catie wanted to know what I saw.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I answered. "In fact, I don't know whether to laugh or cry over it myself."
Suddenly the beast leapt at us, tearing with its fangs and claws ravenously. I barely had time to push Catie down before it was on me. I was quickly losing the fight. It was strong and evil, rearing up and biting at my neck and arms.
Catie stared wide-eyed, apparently stunned.
"Catie!" I yelled. "A little help here would be-"
It tore into my arm as she started swinging at it with a pipe. As she pounded and prodded it, it turned on her. Finally free, I could fight back, and I kicked it, trying to get it to come back to me rather than mauling the poor girl. But I saw, as she fought it, that though it tried to hurt her it passed through her like a ghost. I kept having to tell her where to swing to hit it - I started to wonder if perhaps she was going blind.
Finally she scored a direct hit and the thing went down and lay still. "Okay, that's it - you finally cracked its damn skull wide open," I said.
She ran to me, still clutching the pipe. "Mike, are you all right? What was that? How did..."
I told her I would need a rabies and a tetanus shot. She gave me an odd look and told me she had seen nothing, no dog-wolf thing, no fangs and claws. To her it was like fighting air.
"What the hell is going on?" I said.
Then she tossed the pipe away and the world exploded. The sky flashed gray around me and closed in until I could see her dark gray corridor all around us, then a curving walkway and viewscreens like a space station, then a tropical jungle. And suddenly we were in a room of deep blue rubberized plastic, the floor full of cylinders and projectors of all kinds, everything glowing under bright white lights. One of the cylinders lay on the floor where the pipe had been, and above it a square of white paneling perhaps three by three was ajar on the wall, revealing a shadowy, tiled hall.
Alarms were sounding, screaming about a break in the scenarios and containment. Our clothes were gone, replaced by cheesy metallic gold jumpsuits like in a bad sci-fi movie. We stepped through the hole in the wall and hustled down the hall. I desperately tried to recall anything about Alex's video game that I'd been helping him test in LA before heading north. It was hard to concentrate, though, I was so panicked and crazed by the noise and sights. There had to be a way out.
A giant blast door filled the hallway as we rounded the corner. In large letters it read "MISSION INDIGO." Beside it, the keypad said "LOCKDOWN - NO ACCESS."
"Any ideas," Catie asked.
Footsteps behind us. I spun. Five or six large men in body armor and helmets and holding what looked like assault rifles were facing us, guns at ready. Catie and I demanded to know what was going on. When they refused to tell us I charged, out of my mind with rage.
They fired.
I was afraid to open my eyes. The air felt pure and good here, though. I felt that I was not alone, but surrounded by others who might not be conscious. Slowly I wenched up my eyelid. Catie was awake and watching me, rocking back and forth impatiently on a plastic chair in what looked like a doctor's waiting room. A table in one corner offered magazines. A fern grew in the other under a skylight.
"Oh good, you're awake," said Catie.
"How's that good?" I breathed.
I now saw the others lying around me, everyone spread out on thick blue mats. They were all the ones from the hotel room, along with two new women, one rather disheveled and wearing a long coat, the other quite stunning. I couldn't keep my gaze from this second one with the sharp, smooth face, the way her tiny nostrils flared slightly as she slept, the eddies of black hair streaming from her head, partially obscuring that beautiful, pale face. I sat and looked back at Catie. She was back in her skirt and blouse, the VR outfit no longer apparent, though I was beginning to be convinced that was the answer.
The man with the pointy ears stirred somewhat.
"He's awake now," Catie said.
"What's it matter?" I asked. "I told you, they're not real."
"Oh, yeah?" Catie said. She started babbling about how we should be nice to imaginary characters who could help us, but I had spotted a door with a restroom sign in the otherwise doorless room, and I made for it before she could say much.
I locked the door behind me and stared into the mirror at my bleary eyes and unkempt hair, my wrinkled and torn clothes. The silence and privacy were breathtaking after so many hourse with friendly but frantic Catie. The restroom was clean and as well appointed as one I'd expect in a nice hotel.
I washed my hands slowly, then my face, and began undressing. If this was a VR environment and I was still wearing the VR outfit, only seeing it as my clothes, what would happen if I took them off? Would the world crumble away again? I stripped to my underwear and watched myself in the mirror. Nothing changed. I slid the door open a crack and looked out. The one with the pointy ears and the leprechaun man were still there. Confused again, I redressed and stayed in the restroom a long time.
After many minutes I heard a door opening in the waiting room. It must have been a hidden door, because I certainly hadn't seen one.
A loud voice called, "Catie and Mike!"
posted by Wyatt G. Bessing, MFA at 9:53 PM
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