Mobius (29 page)

“Then we’ll hike through the forest channels to Central City,” said Orsteen.

Bardio licked his bowl clean. “Such a journey would be far too difficult and take many weeks.”

“And what would you know of this, Bardio!” said Dolia harshly. “The extents of your journeys are not beyond the outhouse. Your laziness is evident to all, as your ass has become flat from sitting.” Dolia turned to me. “Despite my husband’s uselessness, he’s right. The nearest dimensional archway is a hundred kilometers away. You may be able to use our neighbor’s craft, but he’s a bitter old hermit who’ll probably deny your request.”

“Then we’ll take it by force,” replied Orsteen.

“You’ve already been over-generous, Dolia,” I said. “Would it be too much to ask you to guide us there? On the way, we could assist you in hunting swamp weasels.”

“It would be refreshing to have a competent man hunting by my side.” Dolia squinted at Bardio, who stared back with indifference.

“When do we leave?” asked Allienora.

“We’ll leave tomorrow.” Dolia inspected Allienora from head to toe, apparently taking stock of her slim figure. “Although, it would be wise if Theron and I go alone. The swamp isn’t friendly to delicate specimens like you.”

“Is that so?”

“You’ll only slow us down.”

Allienora and Dolia’s eyes met in an awkward moment and Allienora finally responded: “If it must be, then I’ll wait here with Bardio, who may enlighten me with his fascinating intellect.”

Dolia, ruffled by Allienora’s subtle remark, wrenched Bardio from his seat and marched him to bed.

I poured a splash of Aqua Vita into Allienora’s cup. “Don’t let her bother you. I know your capabilities. I’ve seen you kill monsters before.”

Allienora slugged down her drink, smiled at me, and then turned to Orsteen and Morion. “It looks like the three of us will get to sleep in. Grab another cylinder of Aqua Vita from the kitchen.”

In the early morning, Dolia outfitted me with a pair of rubber waders that, despite cutting off circulation in my legs, provided a watertight seal and protection from the elements.

Dolia led me out into the cool air and pointed in the direction of the neighbor’s bungalow. “It’s a half-day’s journey in that direction, Theron.”

I sprang forward, but was stopped short by Dolia, who veered off the specified path. “We must take the long route, as the weasel swims. Although terrestrial, they spend most of their time in the depths of the swamp, hunting snails.”

I suppressed my impatience and trudged close behind Dolia into waist-high water, each footstep a tug-of-war against the suction of swamp muck.

The morning progressed with a rigorous hunt for swamp weasels. Dolia instructed me in the proper technique of flushing out the critters, which simply involved running through the water with high, knee-kicking strides. During my chaotic march, Dolia fired upon the resulting frenzy of swamp weasels.

Once satisfied with our catch, we returned to solid ground, each lugging a full string of swamp weasels over our shoulders. We now took the straight course to the neighbor’s home.

Dolia was a quiet woman when not in the presence of her husband. She was a breed of obvious distinction from Bardio, with a thick frame, short arms, and large breasts. Possibly a different species from Bardio altogether.

Dusk approached as we completed the final leg of our journey. Immediately upon our arrival at the neighbor’s bungalow, we heard weapon-fire and smelled smoke in the air. We hid behind a bush and assessed the situation.

Dolia readied her Intersplit gun. “Do you see anyone?”

“I can see nothing with so much smoke.”

A roar emanated from the fog.

Dolia aimed her gun at the sound. “That wasn’t the mating call of the swamp weasel.”

We again heard the blast of weapon-fire, and then the grisly wail of a man.

Dolia, taking stock of her surroundings, sampled a nose-full of air. “Prepare yourself, a wind approaches.”

And as predicted, a wind blew, taking with it all the smoke surrounding the bungalow. A black-winged beast was revealed, and in its claws hung the limp body of a man.

“Poor Wimser,” said Dolia, adjusting her aim. “This beast will pay.”

I pushed down her weapon before she could get off a shot. “Revenge won’t bring back Wimser. And your attack will only make things worse.”

“I’m no bungler when it comes to putting a shot between the eyes of an animal.”

“This may be true, but if you look beside the bungalow, you’ll discover the reason for my apprehension.”

Dolia allowed her eye to wander from her gun’s targeting needle, and I pointed to two additional winged beasts inspecting a small air-car.

We returned our attention to the first winged beast, which had yet to release Wimser from its claws. It studied the form of the carcass, pinching its soft tissues with stubby digits.

Dolia hissed with outrage. “He plays with Wimser’s remains like a curiosity.”

“I fear what comes next.”

I cringed in horror as the black beast made a meal of Wimser. It gorged first on his legs, and then on the ample meat of his belly. The beast cast the half-devoured carcass to the ground and began undulating in a wave of violent spasms.

I couldn’t help a small smile. “It appears Wimser’s getting his revenge, by inflicting a powerful case of indigestion on the beast.”

“I don’t think it’s indigestion,” said Dolia.

The beast underwent a disturbing transformation, its bones cracking and re-fusing. Its slumped posture straightened, its clawed digits lengthened into fingers, its long snout flattened, and, finally, its wings petrified, broke free, and fell to the ground like withered leaves.

We watched in wonder as the beast, now more humanoid, approached his companions and let out a belch of apparent communication. The two beasts showed understanding and then inspected their companion’s new form. They marched to a pen holding small pig-like animals and gorged themselves. They, too, then underwent similar transformations, becoming more humanoid.

One of the beasts stumbled upon Wimser’s Intersplit gun. At first, it handled it with an awkward grip, due either to unfamiliarity with such advanced weaponry or inexperience with its own newly developed fingers. After a brief examination of the weapon, it held it with a normal grip, and then fired it carelessly toward the air-car we had hoped to commandeer. The other two beasts looked at the explosion with something like amusement.

“Damn it!” I said. “The air-car’s destroyed. We’re not dealing with mere beasts. They have the ability to adapt, change, and think both logically and independently.”

Dolia raised her Intersplit gun and displayed a brave expression. “It’s time to test my mettle.” Without pause, she fired her Intersplit gun so quickly and so adeptly that the three shots were perceived as a single resonating blast. Each energy blast drove home, into the skulls of each of the three beasts. We waited for them to fall. But, as it happened, the beasts went unharmed. Their silver nano-fiber ingrained skin absorbed the blasts.

With the sound of the shots betraying our position, we had no time to run. The beast with the Intersplit gun moved toward us swiftly.

I watched as the beast placed the weapon to Dolia’s chest and fired. She stumbled backward, looked down at the wound between her breasts, and then up to the beast, which displayed a frightening grin of sharp teeth.

I caught her from behind and she exhaled her last words: “Theron... tell Bardio a real man would avenge my death.”

I set her down and grabbed the Intersplit gun hanging loosely in her hands. I fired a shot at the beast’s own gun, which shattered to pieces.

The beast discarded the remains of the weapon and prepared to beat the life from me. Then, stopping short, it made a peculiar expression, as though some forgotten memory had surfaced in its thoughts. It held a long gaze on me. I stood my ground.

I’ll move fast if it strikes. I won’t cower.
I inhaled.
Good god, it fucking stinks.

Unexpectedly, it turned to its companions and released a roar of communication. On lurching strides, all three beasts disappeared into the depths of the swamp. I stood astonished, pondering the strange turn of events.

What the hell just happened? Why didn’t it kill me?

With the bungalow burning and the air-car destroyed, there was nothing for me to salvage. I looked down at Dolia’s body, thinking how life could be taken so easily. Despite her rough exterior, Dolia had showed kindness to me and my friends. She took us into her home, fed us, entertained us. I wasn’t a religious man, but I said a prayer for her, wishing her well on her journey into the afterlife, wherever it led. Hopefully, it was somewhere better.

I salvaged a panel of the destroyed air-car and used it as a sled to transport Dolia’s body. Pulling her behind me, I began my journey back to Allienora and the others.

I arrived at the bungalow, dragging Dolia’s body behind me. Bardio stumbled down the stairs of the porch, collapsed at his wife’s side, and wept. I knew Bardio’s pain, since thirty-five years ago I had found my own wife lying on our kitchen floor, strangled to death.

Such tragedy can eat a man from the inside out.

I had dealt with my own pain by immersing myself in my work on the dimensional gateway. I looked up in realization.

Could this be the reason the Fume murdered Cassandra? The Scions of Sensimion had said the Fume was intent on having the dimensional gateway completed. Could Cassandra’s murder have merely been the Fume manipulating me to work harder on the gateway? That bastard killed her to control me!

I looked with angry determination to the others. “We must get out of this swamp.”

“I have an idea,” said Orsteen. “I’ve been looking at some of Dolia’s hunting maps and I think if we build a small skiff, we can travel down the main body of the swamp, through a tributary, and onward to Central City.”

“It’s better than doing nothing,” I said. “I saw some old wood planks behind the bungalow.”

Morion pointed to a shed. “There are tools in there.”

Allienora placed a hand on Bardio. “While the three of you are building the skiff, Bardio and I will bury his wife.”

After a few days, we finished building the skiff. It was small and slender and would move smoothly through the swamp’s placid waters. Its design made for limited space, allowing only Orsteen and I to partake in the journey.