The Garbage Chronicles (24 page)

“I’m very fast for my size,” Rebo said.

“He’s telling you the truth,” Namaba said.

Javik’s mouth became a thin, steely line. His lips parted, and terse words crossed them: “We’re in this together, Rebo. You understand that, or you would have tried to take me earlier.”

Rebo smiled, revealing iridescent blue teeth. He extended his forepaw to Javik. “You’re a pretty tough little guy,” Rebo said as they clasped hands.

Javik knew he was taking a chance. But he couldn’t keep looking over his shoulder. He would have to sleep sometime. Studying Rebo’s face, he saw deep lines framing the undersides of the eyes, lines formed in the worries and battles of another world.

“I was a killer once,” Rebo said as their hands separated.

“That was on a different world,” Namaba said. “And besides, those times are dead.” She looked at Javik. “Rebo is not the same here.”

Javik looked at Rebo again, noticing a scar on the side of his head and a nick out of one of his wide, cuplike ears. This was not a killer. Not any longer. He was a potential friend. Javik was sure of it.

“Hurry up!” Prince Pineapple yelled, glowering.

Javik caught Namaba’s gaze before they resumed their course. “Those morsels of food won’t last us long,” she said.

Thirty minutes later they reached the rock wall at the opposite side of Icy Valley. A short search produced two trails within a hundred meters of one another, each taking a different route up the rock face.

Javik studied the Sacred Scroll of Cork. “I only see one trail here,” he said.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter,” Prince Pineapple said. He took several steps up the nearest trail, then stopped and screamed.

Javik dropped the scroll and drew his service pistol. “What is it?” he yelled, running toward the prince.

Prince Pineapple was roaring back down the trail. “Look behind me!” he squealed. “On the trail!”

“Where?” Javik said. “I don’t see anything!”

“Paula!” Prince Pineapple said, near hysterics as he reached Javik. He buried his face in his hands.

“What are you talking about?” Wizzy asked, joining them at the trailhead.

“Paula Pineapple,” the prince said. “The girl I almost permied. She’s on the trail holding a huge cleaver. She threatened to cut me up into little pineapple squares.”

“But there’s no one there,” Wizzy said.

“That’s right,” Javik said. “Take a look for yourself.”

Prince Pineapple pulled one hand away from his face and looked back up the trail. “I still see her,” he insisted. “She’s going to kill me if I take that trail.”

“Nonsense!” Javik said. “I’ll show you.” He holstered his gun and hiked up the trail, taking big, confident steps.

As Prince Pineapple watched in terror the image of the pineapple girl faded. Then the image disappeared in a puff of mist. Suddenly, Javik stopped and drew his gun again. He backed down the trail.

“What is it?” Prince Pineapple called out. “I don’t see her anymore.”

As Javik retreated, he kept his eyes glued on a beautiful dark-skinned girl who stood in the center of the trail, holding an automatic rifle. The barrel was pointed directly at Javik. He knew the girl. It was the one he had almost permied—the one from the astro-port so long ago. He had left her because of the uncertainties of war.

Reaching the trailhead, Javik explained what he saw, stuttering. Then he asked, “How? H-how could she be here? We’re on the opposite side of the universe from Port Saint Clemente.”

“We don’t see anything,” Namaba said.

“I’ll try it,” Rebo said. While Javik watched, Rebo loped up the trail, approaching the dark-skinned girl who still stood on the trail holding a rifle. As Rebo neared her, the girl’s image faded and disappeared in a puff of mist.

When this happened, Rebo stopped in his tracks. Then he turned and loped down the trail.

“What happened?” Javik asked.

“I saw Namaba,” Rebo said. “She was blocking the trail, holding a long switchblade in each hand.” He looked back. “She’s still up there.”

Namaba’s dark eyebrows arched in surprise. “Me?” she asked. “How could that be? I’m here.”

“Magicians at work,” Prince Pineapple said. “Or Lord Abercrombie.”

“Do you see the pattern?” Rebo asked, looking at Javik.

^“
You love Namaba, don’t you, Rebo?” Javik asked.

Rebo nodded, catching Namaba’s troubled gaze.

She looked away.

“In each case,” Javik said, “we are threatened by the one we love most in the entire universe.”

“Exactly,” Rebo said. “The image of Namaba on the trail is fading now.”

“Let’s try the other trail,” Prince Pineapple suggested.

The others agreed. Prince Pineapple led the way up the second trail, stepping slowly and cautiously at first. The trail became steep and narrow. Soon they were in mist again, on a cliff trail similar to the one that had led them into Icy Valley. With each step, Prince Pineapple expected to confront Paula Pineapple again. But she did not appear. They increased their pace and began to make good progress.

But then Wizzy flew to the front and squealed, “Wait! I think we’re going the wrong way!”

“What?” Prince Pineapple said, stopping.

Javik and the others made similar surprised comments as they stopped.

“Someone wants us to go this way,” Wizzy said, “It’s too easy.”

They talked it over. Generally, it was conceded that Wizzy might be right. But Javik was less convinced than the others. “Maybe it’s just the opposite,” he said. “Whoever is orchestrating this knew we would have doubts. Maybe we were expected to stop and turn back.”

“How do we decide?” Prince Pineapple asked.

“Your Decision Coin,” Javik said.

“Don’t be silly. Abercrombie controls that.”

“I don’t agree,” Javik said. “I’m in charge here, and I say flip it.”

Prince Pineapple shrugged and produced his large gold coin.

“The ‘yes’ side and we take this trail,” Javik said. ‘The ‘no’ side and we take the other.”

Prince Pineapple flipped the coin, being careful to keep it from falling over the cliff. It rolled a little ways and lodged against the rock wall at one side of the trail.

“It’s ‘no,’” Javik said, retrieving the coin. He handed it to the prince.

“Then we take the other trail,” Prince Pineapple said.

Javik smiled. “Wrong,” he said. “We do the opposite. Abercrombie does control that coin. He wants us on the other trail.”

Prince Pineapple shook his head in confusion. “I don’t know,” he said, stuffing the coin in his pants pocket. “I’m sure of it,” Javik said. “Let’s go.”

Lord Abercrombie was soil-immersed, permitting him to see and hear the activity on the trail.
I don’t control Decision Coins,
he thought.
They’re strictly chance.

He concentrated on breaking a large rock outcropping just over the heads of the travelers. It was already cracked from natural conditions, and should not require that much effort. But no incantation, prayer, or command could convince even the smallest chunk to break away.

Two days ago I induced a small rockslide,
he thought, frustrated.
Now, whenever my enemies are vulnerable, I can do nothing.

Lord Abercrombie was more dismayed than angry. He had experienced so many failures that the latest installment came as no surprise. He felt this attitude probably contributed to his failings. The magnetic imbalance of Cork could not be responsible for everything. But he was helpless to change, and felt himself falling into the great cosmic crevasse populated by losers. He wondered why attitude suddenly seemed so essential to magical success. Attitude was supposed to be a psyche thing, a concern for super-achiever fleshcarriers. It should not belong in a magical situation. Maybe it had something to do with his being caught between realms: Things were getting muddled from his indecision. Or maybe it was something deeper, an overlapping between the realms of Flesh and Magic.

Lord Abercrombie’s tympanic sensors picked up a cracking sound. A tiny piece of rock broke free from the outcropping and bounced down the cliff face, falling harmlessly on the trail next to Javik. It was such a small piece that none of the intended victims noticed it.

Oh, well,
Lord Abercrombie thought.
It was something, anyway.
Helplessly, he watched Prince Pineapple lead the way up the correct trail.

As the travelers resumed their journey, the ground began to shake. Javik heard a low rumble, which grew louder.

“Run for it!” Wizzy squealed, looking up the cliff with his cat’s eye. He could not see very far in the thick mist. “I hear a rockslide.”

“Uptrail,” Javik yelled, seeing a domed rock shelter just ahead. “Under that big rock.”

They ran and flew for their lives, taking shelter under the domed rock. An avalanche of jagged rock thundered by them, bouncing off the side of the cliff. From the safety of their shelter, they heard the rocks land angrily on the valley floor.

When the noise subsided, Javik ventured out cautiously. The mist was becoming dark gray now, and he knew why. “We must hurry,” he said. “It will be nightfall soon.”

Still soil-immersed, Lord Abercrombie was raging at the latest turn of events.
So close!
he thought.
I almost had them!
Then he wondered if he had caused the slide or if the rocks would have fallen anyway. After all, the outcropping had been cracked long before he took notice of it.

I have to assume I did it,
he thought.
I can’t give up now.

Javik led the way up the trail, sidestepping a number of small rocks in the way. “Don’t step on any of this loose stuff,” he said.

Beyond the slide area, the travelers began to move quickly, trying to reach a suitable campsite before dark. They glanced up often, fearing the mountain would cut loose again.

We’re moving deeper into Lord Abercrombie’s web,
Prince Pineapple thought.
He is all around us, ready to swallow us at any moment.

Night was descending rapidly, spreading its purple-black Corkian mantle across the cliff trail. It took away what little visibility the fog had left for them, forcing them to travel slower and slower. Wizzy’s white glow worked as a fairly decent light for a while, but he had trouble keeping it lit. Perhaps it was due to the full day he had already had, with many occasions to call upon his data banks. Finally he asked to be carried. Grudgingly, Javik placed him in a pocket of his vari-temp coat.

The intense darkness made the prospect of another rockslide terrifying to Javik. If he heard it coming, where would he flee? Surely such a catastrophe would send some and perhaps all hurtling over the edge.

It was dark and windy when Prince Pineapple insisted on a break. For some time before that, Javik had noticed that the prince had been dragging his steps. By the time he called out, Prince Pineapple had slipped to last in line.

“Tell him to be careful with this,” Javik said, passing the folding shovel and nutrient cord to Namaba. As she passed it on down the line, Prince Pineapple said he had heard the command, and that it was an unnecessary thing to say.

Every muscle in Javik’s body wanted to sleep. But this was no place to pitch a tent. An icy wind cut across his legs. He considered donning a pair of vari-temp pants with the aid of his wardrobe ring, but decided against it. Too much energy required to mento it. He probed with his gloved hands for a place to sit. The ground was cold under his bottom.

Javik heard Namaba and Rebo find their own places to rest. Their breathing was labored, coming in short, staccato bursts, like steam engines with just enough poop left to go straight to the garbage launch facility.

The clunk and clang of Prince Pineapple’s shovel rang out from downtrail.

“Maybe we can sleep here,” Namaba suggested. “Right on the trail.”

The idea had some appeal to Javik, and even made a certain. amount of sense. It might be safer than stumbling around in the dark. But no one seconded the motion.

She did not repeat her suggestion.

Soon they were back at it, straining their muscles nearly to the breaking point. Prince Pineapple was a hot dog now with the fresh charge. Generously, he offered to carry the water pods and the survival pack. These were turned over to him. Even with this added weight, the prince surged far ahead of the others, often going so fast that he had to stop and wait for them to catch up.

It was a night of nights, the sort of monumental struggle one never forgets. With each step, Javik thought the trail grew steeper and more rocky. The wind bore down on them from uptrail, the worst possible direction, often forcing backward steps. If only it would blow from behind! Such a wind would help them to the top.

But the wind god, or whoever was in control of such matters, was not on their side.

Javik did not mention his thoughts. They only brought to mind Lord Abercrombie and the suggestion that he might be working against every move they made. Javik tried to convince himself that Abercrombie did not exist, and that even if he did exist, he could not control the wind or rockslides. But with each attempted step, Javik grew less confident of this.

Sometime in the early morning hours they stumbled onto a high plateau. The mist disappeared here, and Javik saw two harvest moons dropping below the horizon. A blanket of stars twinkled overhead, a cool blanket which offered welcome psychological warmth. Javik felt physically warmer here as well, as the wind had died down, going to one of the hiding places for such phenomena.

“You wanna camp here?” Prince Pineapple asked, coming back down the trail. With the moons behind him, Javik could not see his face.

“Yeah,” Javik said.

In waning moonlight ahead, Javik saw the ghostlike outlines of treetops, framed majestically against the Corkian sky. Somewhere nearby a river ran, making its night journey with the moons. They were on soft soil now, at the edge of a forest. The moons disappeared below the horizon.

Javik took Wizzy out of his pocket and awakened htm. “Give me some light,” Javik said.

Wizzy did not complain, despite being so tired that he could barely keep his peeper open. He glowed bright white.