Out of Time the Grand Quest

by Christopher Douglass

  Clawing at the dirt, he made a shallow hole. Shoving his fingers down his throat, he induced vomiting, contorting his stomach muscles to aggravate the bile of his stomach. Ladium couldn’t be made by blood, it was a strong acid based substance. Only stomach acid would give the nano-machines the material it needed. Vletch felt the acid rising, felt the machines going to work. His throat felt like it was melting as the Ladium surged upwards. He knew he would be hoarse for at least a day after this.

  It spewed from his mouth as small chunks of rock and into the hole he had created. The moment it touched the air it began to smoke. The solid rock state melting into liquid. The earth blackened and charred at the touch, heat emanating in waves instantly. The girl moaned and struggled in the heat, a sheen coating her skin quickly. Water. Vletch could make water easily, but he didn’t know how much she would need. A normal body had about ten pints of blood. And they could lose up to one or two pints without too much harm, if maybe a bit of dizziness. That was one thing Vletch did know.

  But Vletch was bigger than most people. He was sure he had a few extra pints he could play around with. But every time he created something with his blood, he took away from those pints he had to play with. Just with what he had already done, Vletch knew he had used at least a pint and a half. He couldn’t afford to kill himself while trying to save her. Plus, he wasn’t sure if it would be a good idea to let her blood enter any of his wounds. Vletch wasn’t sure how this plague transmitted, but Kimberly had said to beware the liquid in the boils, and to burn his shirt. So she must have reason to have him avoid touching it.

  Tossing his disease filled shirt into the raging pool of Ladium, Vletch took one last look at Isabelle before heading out the barn doors. He remembered seeing a well not far away, he could get water from there. His footsteps faltered as he realized he didn’t have anything to hold that water in. A quick look around found a broken barrel tossed against the side of the building. By the smell, Vletch figured it had held grapes or some other fruit. Still, it would do well enough, even broken as it was.

  Careful of the jagged edges, Vletch hefted the container onto his shoulder. His muscles strained only slightly, giving him an idea of its weight. The well came into view after only a few moments, and he was thankful there was a bucket already attached to the pulley system. He hadn’t thought about that aspect of retrieving water until he had seen it.

  The labor of lowering and lifting the buckets of water to fill his cask felt good. It was simple work, but refreshing. Lacking the immediate problems of being on quest, or battling a disease he had never seen before. While it was only a moment of respite, Vletch embraced those moments. A few people looked at him sideways as they passed, but he ignored them. They would all forget his existence one way or another in twenty-four hours. Carefully hefting the barrel back to his shoulder once it was filled, he returned the way he came. A little water sloshed over the broken edges onto his head and back, but he didn’t mind. The cool liquid felt good.

  Inside the barn once again, Vletch found a little girl standing near Isabelle. She was maybe eight, with black hair ending just past her neck. Her eyes, so full of curiosity as she turned her head towards Vletch, were a dark brown. She wore a light brown dress that almost dragged the ground, only the tips of brown shoes peeking out from under the hem. Ignoring the little girl for the moment, Vletch lowered his cask to the floor next to Isabelle. He was heartened to see she seemed to be breathing a little easier. It could be his imagination but he wanted to believe it was the truth. Her shaking had lessened as well, something that he knew wasn’t his imagination.

  “Are you trying to cast the demon out of her? If so, you should see the priest for a proper exorcism.”

  He turned at the light, soft voice of the girl, blinking quickly as her form shifted. One moment she was a little girl, the next she stood before him in gleaming white armor and short, military cropped hair, wielding a sword. As he reached towards the brass knuckles at his waist, her form shifted back to the little girl who cocked her head to the side. The echo was unstable. That was only natural, seeing as two rifts had converged to create it. Vletch had to be prepared for more such shifts.

  “She is sick, she doesn’t have a demon within her.”

  “Priest Louvrand says all sickness is the work of demons.”

  “Your priest is wrong. All things have a basis in science. There is nothing that can’t be explained.”

  “The priest says science is just a way for demons to subvert and control humans. They want you to believe there is no such thing as miracles. That’s why we shouldn’t believe in science. He is a man of god, he knows what he is talking about.”

  Vletch sighed. There was no point trying to explain things to this little girl. This was just the backwater way non-Atlantian’s thought. Even those in the magic world couldn’t escape from such thinking entirely. Still believing in some higher being even though the proof was overwhelming as to the contrary. Miracles were not miracles, just phenomenon they could not yet explain using their limited knowledge. Atlantis had discovered and explained them all, but those who became mediators were not allowed to divulge too much of that information, lest it upset the balance. The nano-machines inside had a built in gag switch that sent intense pain through the body when he tried. He knew they could even kill if the pain was ignored. He had known at least one mediator who had died that way.

  “Who are you anyways little girl?”

  “I’m Jeanne Darc.”

  Vletch froze. This was one of the conditions for success wasn’t it? Taking a special rag out of his pocket he wiped the inside of his arm quickly, watching his Map appear once more. His eyes scanned the information that appeared before he wiped it away with the rag. So he needed to keep this girl alive. That shouldn’t be too hard. She was just a little girl, what danger could she get into? At least she wasn’t running off to get help. As long as she stayed within sight he could protect her from any danger. Right now though, he needed to figure out how to get Isabelle to drink the water. He had no cup and Isabelle was in no condition to swallow.

  Think! He had to think. There had to be something he could do. Wait! Back on Atlantis, didn’t the doctors sometimes stick people with needles and drip blood into them when they lost too much from an accident? Could he do the same with water? Massaging his right pectoral, he concentrated on what he wanted, trying to imagine the tubes he had only seen twice as an intern. Skin split and a hollow-tipped needle poked through. He slid it out, feeling like he was pulling one of his own veins from his body the way the sensation went all the way to his gut. It was like a living worm was burrowing itself out of his skin as he pulled.

  But he ended with a long tube that looked a lot like the ones back on Atlantis.

  “A demon!”

  The little girl ran out of the barn before Vletch could stop her, yelling at the top of her lungs while crying out for the priest. He couldn’t worry about that now, he needed to keep going. Dimly he remembered the doctors had done something to the arm but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what. Shrugging at his own lack of knowledge, he dipped the tubing into the barrel of water, watching it fill with the liquid. This next part he knew well enough from working with his own body. Needles worked best when put directly into the bloodstream. Just shoving it in wouldn’t do, he needed to hit a vein. And having enough needles coming out of his body from main bloodstreams, he knew right where to look to put one in.

  He pressed on Isabelle’s elbow for a few seconds before letting go. A trick he had learned to make veins pop up by cutting off some flow. A single blue line appeared running under the almost ghostly skin. Praying this would work, Vletch slid the needle in slowly, careful not to miss the mark. The body under him stiffened at the pinch, giving a small gasp, but then fell back relaxed. He couldn’t hold it here all day, but if he let go the needle might fall out. Creating a pair of scissors, Vletch felt the world tilt sideways for just a second. He was coming up on his limit. He would need to make m
ore blood soon before using his powers again. He doubted he would need to do anything more though, so he was fine for now. With scissors in hand, Vletch cut Isabelle’s shirtsleeve off. He would apologize later, if she got better. No, he couldn’t think like that! She had to get better. After all the work he had done she had to survive.

  Folding the cloth, Vletch wrapped and tied it around the needle, securing it in place as the woman lay quiet. Only randomly convulsing as she took shallow breaths. Vletch knew she was breathing easier then, since he definitely remembered her wheezing earlier as she inhaled. A sound that had gone away. It could just be a progression of this plague and she was getting worse, but Vletch believed it was a sign of improvement.

  Just as he was about to inform Kimberly of his progress, the barn doors flew open. A good ten or so men with pitchforks stormed in brandishing the weapons before them like talismans. At their head was a man in black with a white collar holding a bible and a cross. The looks on their faces told him instantly they weren’t willing to listen to anyone or anything.

  He felt the adrenaline begin to pump in his body. Felt as his normal docile nature receded to the background. His bloodthirsty nature kicking in as his fight or flight response took over. He increased the adrenaline and testosterone as he grabbed for his brass knuckles. He left just enough reason in his mind to keep himself from killing anyone, but that was it. It had been a while since he had let this side of himself loose. The side that reveled in slaughter.

  Yes, it was time to show these backwater hicks why he had been given the nickname Vletch the Berserker

  Chapter 19: A Raptor’s Outlook

  “Are you sure we should go off on our own like this?”

  “What? You think just waiting around in that barn doing nothing is a better idea? We can’t do anything for the other groups, and the clock is still ticking.”

  “Yeah, but what are we going to do exactly? We don’t know the first thing about this bubonic plague so we will be no help there.”

  “Correct. And you are keeping tabs on that Joan girl with your wind right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And your partner said she has no idea who or what the Emishi are. So the only logical thing to do is gather information on them. Surely you aren’t saying that gathering information is beyond your skill.”

  “Well no&”

  “Don’t forget, you have me. The ability to read minds will come in mighty handy I think. We just got to get people talking about these Emishi and I will pick up their surface thoughts. One of the conditions for success is to ensure war continues. This leads me to believe they are either at peace right now, or having peace talks. And what is the fastest way to start a war in any situation?”

  “Um-- I don’t know?”

  “Uggh. And you humans are supposed to come from hunters. Fine I will spell it out for you. We kill them. We pretend to be one side and we kill them, then we pretend to be the other side and kill some more. Each side assumes they have been wronged unjustly by the other, and so they get violent in an attempt to prove they are right. Humans are simple creatures to understand.”

  “We aren’t like that at all! We are civilized. We haven’t had a war with each other in hundreds of years.”

  “Oh really? Then what about that Maria girl? You call her a failure because she is not the same as you. You snub her and exclude her for her lack. I’ve seen her be bullied with words, with thrown rocks and refuse. I’ve watched as little kids steal her clothes and other items, following the patterns of their parents and older siblings. If that is not a form of violence, than you are stupider than I thought. And how has she responded to these actions? By going to great lengths to prove she is just as good, if not better, than all of you. To prove you all wrong for the unjust accusations you pile upon her. Violence isn’t always physical. Physical violence is just a more visible action and response.”

  Bree looked at her strangely. Milly was used to such stares, and didn’t let them bother her. Humans were all the same really, just bipedal animals without claws or hard skin. Evolution hadn’t been kind to them by taking such things away. Even Frank wasn’t excluded from her assessment. There were exceptions, and things that made them all stand out in some way, but overall they were the same. Physical appearance could lie, just like the false form she wore to fool the locals. One made to mimic the long brown hair, the bland brown cotton dresses that covered them from neck to ankle, and the deep brown shoes. But the mind didn’t lie. Of the hundreds of people she had met, both in the magical world of Aerth, and inside the rifts, the thoughts were invariably the same with only little difference.

  Sex, food, sleep, and popularity. Everything was linked to these things in some way. How other people saw them, attractiveness to the opposite sex, unable to function at top condition without food or sleep. Even when they got violent it was linked to these four basics just like every other animal. Protecting their territory or their property. Using it as a means to be accepted by the group. How could humans not see this? Milly knew she was no different, she was just an animal as well. But at least she didn’t deny the truth.

  Stopping the first woman she saw, Milly asked about the Emishi. The woman said she knew nothing and her mind said the same thing, so Milly thanked the woman and moved on. Once she was out of earshot Bree spoke again.

  “Don’t you think that was rude?”

  “What?”

  “Just asking and then leaving. No hello, no goodbye, nothing extra at all.”

  “And what would be the point? We have twenty-one hours left. If we waste it being polite, we will never get anywhere. I don’t know them and they don’t know me. There is no reason for me to pretend to know or like them unless it is needed to further the quest.”

  “That doesn’t seem right though.”

  “Fine, then you make nice talk with them and I will keep moving. You can die all alone in this echo while I try to get out of it. Or did you forget that your life is on the line here?”

  “So is yours.”

  “So it is. But I don’t have as much to lose. I’m the last of my kind and I always will be. Unless by some slim chance a male raptor gets pulled through a time rift. Yet I still fight to survive as long as possible.”

  Bree’s eyes softened, her mental voice grew compassionate and sad as she thought on Milly’s predicament. Thinking the most obvious question even though she didn’t actually voice it.

  Why.

  Milly answered the unspoken question after only a few steps. “Because it is my nature. My instinct is to survive. Plus, Frank would die as well. I don’t really care if everyone else on Aerth winks out of existence tomorrow, but Frank is my partner. I don’t want anything to happen to him. Things that make him sad make me sad. So I survive, and I fight for the things he wishes to hold dear. Be they people, places, or things.”

  Bree jerked back startled, almost as if Milly had slapped her across the face. She sighed, this girl seemed duller than most. She couldn’t understand why a bright girl like Kimberly had contracted with her.

  “I can read minds remember? Your question was as clear as day. As well as your suffocating pity for my predicament. But it is misplaced, I’m not sad over it or anything. It is a natural cycle of life. I was given an opportunity to see the future of my world, and the intelligence to understand what I saw. It is an opportunity not many get. The dinosaurs all went extinct and the era of man emerged. I am just a piece of history out of time. It is my fate to one day die just like all living things. To propagate the species is not part of that fate. If it were, I would not have been pulled from my place in history, or a male of my species would have been pulled in with me.”

  “But that’s just not right!”

  Her mind was saying something completely different, “that’s not human”, linking the two things together. Giving a shrug, Milly walked a little faster, heading towards the next woman wandering the streets and calling over her shoulder.

  “I’m not human.”

 
; When she got close enough the woman turned, seeming to realize Milly wanted to speak to her.

  “Excuse me, Have you heard of the Emishi?”

  “Emishi? What’s that? Some sort of new food dish?”

  While her words professed ignorance, her mind was screaming out the lie her lips were making. What does she know of my husband? Are we going to have to run again? Those questions were so loud she was surprised Bree couldn’t hear them. Giving the woman a smile she held out her hand.

  “Sorry to trouble you then. Have a good day.”

  The moment the woman’s hand met her claw, Milly latched onto her mind. With mental fingers she ripped the woman’s mind apart, seeking out any information she could on the Emishi. Milly felt the primal joy of the kill surging up in her as she ravaged the woman’s brain. She didn’t have to be so forceful, but as she had pointed out, every second counted. This woman wasn’t important to furthering the quest. This was the easiest and most efficient way to acquire the knowledge from someone else’s head.

  She discarded memories of the woman named Kirara Kisato that were unimportant, flinging them off into the void never to be retrieved. It was all just clutter that Milly didn’t need hanging around in her own mind. Kirara’s eyes rolled up in her head as blood dribbled from ears and nose, a standard response to such a forceful invasion. Childhood memories, parents, all of them destroyed in seconds. Milly was about to discard the memories of the woman’s son and husband when she thought better of it. Those could be useful later as bargaining chips. When she was done with her interrogation, she dropped the woman and moved on, leaving the comatose body twitching in the streets.

  “What did you do to her!”

  “I ripped the information from her mind.”

  “Will she be okay?”

  “Probably not. If she manages to snap out of it she will be a blank slate, just like a newborn baby. Unless someone takes care of her, she will die.”