The day began with a cockroach on my face.
It went downhill from there.
I'd been dreaming of stone buildings that
are all vertical instead of horizontal - what a weird concept - when something
tickled my nose. Ever since I woke up to Julius sitting on my forehead I've
been a light sleeper, and the speedy crawl of a cockroach onto my nostril got
me up in a flash.
I squashed it. Naturally. Made a lovely
smear on my cheek, gotta say.
Disgusted, I sat up, flicked the carcass
off of my face… and noticed, with no small amount of trepidation, that there
were more cockroaches. At least twenty of them. They were lined up at the foot
of the bed, standing in a rectangle of morning sun so I could see them,
stock-still and attentive. All eyes were on me.
As I shrieked and hopped out of bed,
skittering to the opposite side of the room and tripping over a box of tools, they,
too, jumped onto the floor. But they didn't approach, didn't show any
hostility, and when I was back on my feet they made an orderly run for the
door.
I know cockroaches. I saw them all the time
back when I was a guard, and more than a few have moved into Pubton. I know how
normal cockroaches act, and normal cockroaches don't sit in the sun. Nor do
they make it obvious they're trying to lead you somewhere.
Also? Glowing orange eyes. That's a thing.
Slipping on my clothes, I followed. The
cockroaches led me outside, past dozens of snoozing bodies in sleeping bags,
well away from the campfire I'd briefly shared with Doc and his mystery buddies
the night before. They were still there, Doc nestled atop the biggest one's
chest like a puppy. All asleep. Or so I thought.
I figured the cockroaches must be on to
something, and I knew if I woke anybody up that Doc would get up, too. I wasn't
interested in guiding him to any revelations. The cockroaches ran up the
mountain, and I followed.
As I'd figured, they led me to the
approximate area where I'd originally found the cave with the giant symbol. A
few of them, apparently exhausted, died along the way. Their bodies went
unmourned, and have probably been eaten by birds or other insects by now.
The cockroaches halted in front of a flat
dirt wall. I noticed almost a dozen other cockroaches near it, all dead. Then,
forming a single line, the bugs walked slowly into the wall, as though it were
made of air. Which, I now know, it was.
Daunted but determined, I followed.
Stepping through an illusion is a curious thing.
It's like walking into a waterfall that consists of a billion infinitely small
water droplets, each sufficient to send a tiny chill through your body for less
than a second. I emerged on the other side of the illusion shaking all over,
quite aware it wasn't the first time I'd felt that way. I wondered if I'd see
any sloths inside the cave.
I didn't. Something quite different waited.
Though blocked by imaginary flat rock on the
outside, I could see out of the cave's entrance from within as though nothing
was there. Light from the rising sun lit the cave almost to the rear, glinting
off the rough stones jutting out of the walls and providing me with ample
evidence of figures within. I didn't need natural light, though, because the
cave was filled with unnatural energy that illuminated the place just fine.
"LIBBY!"
Libby, my wife, the love of my life, the
woman I can't believe I kinda but didn't really cheat on, was suspended in a
bubble of swirling air. Every time she sank near to the ground she would bounce
back upward, her body twisting slowly around as though she were caught in a
current. Her eyes were closed.
Beside her, caught in another bubble,
massive and monstrous and just as asleep, was Antonia. Her lips curled, her
ears twitched and the fur on her back rose into hackles, as though she was
caught in a bad dream.
They floated above a pair of figures. I
knew who they were without looking.
On the left sat Grayson. His face was
ashen, cheekbones prominent, and he was almost slumped over his own dusty
knees. There was a large bloodstain on his right shoulder, and his shirt looked
ragged. His eyes twitched and glowed, projecting white light towards the figure
on the right…
… June. If Grayson looked bad, June was
caught in hell itself. Big clots of her hair were missing, her skin clung tight
against her skull, her hands trembled with exertion, her mouth snarled and
sneered and whispered words I couldn't hear. She, too, had light flooding out
of her wild eyes, a violent orange I've seen too many times in my life.
They sat inside a roughly-drawn but ornate
circle, chalked onto the floor. Thinking back later, I realized the circle bore
three letters, written over and over and over: T, O, and E. Toe. No idea what
that means. Floating over the circle, caused by the intersection of light from
their eyes, was a swirling orange-and-white orb, the two colours struggling for
dominance over one another. The massive rat symbol watched over it all, faintly
glowing white, epic and ominous.
I wasn't thinking, not about danger, not
about consequences. I was only thinking about Libby. Screaming her name again I
bolted for the circle, rushing towards the pocket of air that kept her aloft as
it dipped near the floor. I jumped at it… and bounced off of the thing,
slamming into the wall.
That was enough. Grayson, probably finally
noticing my presence, looked over at me as I slid to the floor. As my eyes reconnected
I noticed his dumbfounded expression… and over his shoulder, I saw the orb of
light suddenly flash imperious orange. Like a herd of snakes a dozen orange tendrils
flooded over white, twisting and twining towards Grayson and knocking him onto
his side. He screamed pain, landing on his blood-soaked arm.
A lot of things happened at once.
Libby and Antonia fell. Antonia, awake
immediately, flipped and landed on her feet. Libby, more sluggish, whacked her
head off of a stone. Her eyes were only open for a second before they closed
again with a yelp and a shudder.
June loomed over Grayson, panting hard,
obviously struggling to keep herself together, her face alight with manic glee.
Her skin glowed a faint crimson, prominent even under the shine of the symbol
nearby.
Grayson vomited. He began to cry. He's
never looked quite so vulnerable.
Then, just as my brain was considering the
options and compiling them into a list of priorities - with Libby at the top,
of course - a shrill voice filled the cave.
"YOU
TRAITOR! I KNEW YOU'D HIDDEN SOMETHING FROM ME! YOU AND YOUR FUCKING
COCKROACHES! GO! MERGE AND KILL THEM ALL! BUT BRING THE MAYOR AND THE CHILD TO
ME UNHARMED, YESSS!"
I peered around the corner of the symbol
room and back to the entrance. Standing there were Doc's three companions,
their rags rustling and ripping apart as their bodies came together, dragged
into union by hideous black tendrils I'm glad I couldn't fully see, and I knew
immediately, yes, yes, that makes sense now. That makes sense.
Doc, his rags torn away to reveal the face
of one of the shadow things, pointed. The shambling horror that is now Cedric,
Bernard and Driscol combined launched itself down the tunnel, Cedric's wolfish
arm and the blade attached to Bernard's mangled hand outstretched and ready to
kill -
- and they met with Antonia. The werewolf
leaped at the monster, I heard snarls and snaps and yelps of fearful pain from
Bernard, and I looked away, fearing to watch such a gruesome battle.
"NOT
THE WEREWOLF!" Doc bellowed in frustration.
"THE LOCK! WE HAVE TO BREAK THE LOCK! MAKE THE RAT CHILD OPEN THE DOOR TO
THE LOCK, YOU FOOLS, YOU CRETINS, YES, YES!"
Even over Doc's voice I heard Grayson rasp
"You… morons… you led them… the Non… you led them here…"
Ignoring him, I staggered to my feet. I ran
across the cavern, past June (who looked very confused at this point, perhaps
because her hair was rapidly growing back), and dove onto Libby's prone form. I
covered her body, and closed my eyes, and prayed for it all to be okay,
because, really, what the hell is a political ex-guard with a floppy hat who
can't even pick up a weapon supposed to do? At the very least my armour could
shield Libby from the blows of the titans.
There were sounds. Yells. Screams.
Arguments. The world swirled, and I found myself both loving and hating
cockroaches. After an eternity of action, of fear that I would be stabbed or
clawed or blasted or otherwise destroyed, the cave was silenced.
When I looked up I saw June. She was
hunkered down in the middle of the circle, fixated on the symbol on the wall. A
white light danced around her, forming a tight bubble. It seemed to be pulling
her back together, eliminating the excess wrinkles, restoring her hair, even
smoothing and reshaping her face. She looked… younger. Almost pretty.
Beside her, outside the bubble, was
Grayson. Panting hard, still as grimy and bloody and put out as ever, he rose
to one knee and coughed blood onto the floor. "She… she won… and now… now
they know…"
Glaring at me with an exhausted eye,
Grayson stumbled out of the cave. Prying myself off of Libby I watched him go,
noting that Doc and his horror were gone, leaving behind splashes of green and
purple on the walls. Antonia was crammed against a cluster of rocks, hunched
over a leg wound, bristling as Grayson limped by and disappeared.
Eventually, deciding Antonia would not hurt
me nor June stop me, I hoisted Libby's right arm over my shoulder, pulled her
to her feet, and dragged her out of the cave. Eventually, searchers led by
Grylock's nose found us.
I have no idea what just happened. And
writing this entry doesn't seem to help me sort it out.
The Non.
Is that what they're called?
No comments:
Post a Comment