by Eyal Kless
Pikok turned his head, following Chameleon’s pointed finger. Then he straightened up a bit and said, “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“No, I am not going to o o”—Pikok took a steadying breath—“. . . open door.”
In one swift motion Chameleon grabbed Pikok’s collar again and brought him closer to his face. “I don’t have time for this, shithead, open the rusting lock,” he barked.
“No.” Pikok shook his head and was immediately slapped. The blow threw him to the floor, where he rolled twice before slowly getting up, blood on his lips.
Chameleon grabbed him again. “I am not laughing with you now, key, open the door.”
Pikok shook his head and flinched as Chameleon raised his hand, this time as a tight fist, but before another slap landed Rafik shouted, “Stop it!’
The angry Salvationist hesitated.
“Don’t hit him,” pleaded Rafik, tears in his eyes.
“I’ll stop hitting him when he opens the rusting door, like he’s supposed to. Pikok here just needs a little motivation sometimes.” A calculating look flashed in Chameleon’s eyes. “But if you care so much, why don’t you open it for him? You’re a Puzzler.”
“No,” breathed Pikok, blood streaming from his mouth. “I’ll d d do it. Too hard.”
Chameleon was already advancing on Rafik, who moved back until he flattened himself against the wall. He looked up at Chameleon. “I don’t want to.”
“I ain’t caring about your wants, puzzle boy,” intoned Chameleon. “One way or another we are walking out that door, and I need him”—he pointed his thumb at Pikok—“but I don’t need you. So how about you put your nice little hand in there and show me what you’ve got?”
A few heartbeats later Rafik shoved his fingers into the puzzle box.
It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Normally he would find himself hovering above a puzzle, but this time he found himself inside a puzzle, surrounded on all sides by walls made of shifting symbols. He tried to move, but as soon as he touched a wall a painful jolt shot through his body, and he was thrown back to the centre of the puzzle. This was what Master Goran had warned him about. This was the kind of puzzle that could harm you, or even kill you. Fighting to suppress panic, he tried to solve one side. But as soon as he held a pattern in his mind and turned to solve another side, the previous wall would reset itself.
There was a sudden, painful jolt in his arm that made him cry out in pain. He heard voices whispering from afar.
“Ca ca can’t, he’s sss stuck.”
“You do something, or I will hack his hand off, I swear.”
There was a pause, and Rafik heard Pikok’s voice whispering to him from afar.
“Find pair, not full pattern. Blue, three circles, red, five stars.” Pikok didn’t stutter.
Rafik looked around at the symbols moving around him. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands of them. He looked from side to side.
“Slowly,” Pikok warned.
Another jolt of pain made him cry out.
“Slowly. Breathe.”
From the corner of his eye Rafik suddenly saw it. Circles, stars . . . as soon as he held the pair, the puzzle slowed a bit. He could now easily keep the pairs stable with minimum effort. Pikok whispered a few more pairs. “Yellow star, five snakes, three buckets,” and with each success things got easier. The descriptions were odd and confusing at first; the symbols were not exactly as Pikok described them. There were definitely no snakes, but Rafik guessed that a few wavy lines could have been seen as snakes and was soon rewarded with success. After that it was only a matter of figuring out what symbol Pikok thought of as “monster,” “gun,” “chair,” or “trolls kissing.”
Rafik heard the buzz of the doors sliding open just before he was hurtled back into the world. It was now his turn to try and keep his balance.
“About rusting time.” Chameleon strode out, dragging Pikok after him.
Rafik stumbled after them, legs shaking. He watched the two ascend the stairs but was too weak to follow. He sat down on the floor as the doors began to close and leaned back against the cold wall. Pikok shot him one last desperate look before disappearing upstairs, and then he was alone.
44
Rafik grasped his gun with both hands, nervously peering from behind the shoulder of the Troll who took point. The oppressive heat was not the only cause of the sweat pouring down his brow. Compared to the arsenal of weapons surrounding him, Rafik’s pistol was puny, and his improvised power armour barely fit. He felt reassured by the three Trolls who covered him from all sides, but he didn’t know if their current alert level was due to an imminent Lizard attack or Ramm’s threat of punishment should anything happen to him.
He leaned against a wall and found it surprisingly cool, but the shadows offered only momentary comfort. The three armour-plated dusters that brought them to the node were already manoeuvring to allow for a quick withdrawal. This was their third outing in so many weeks, and so far they had not encountered any Lizards, yet it was a rare day when the patrolling crews did not stumble on a nest of them. In a way, it made everybody even more nervous.
Rafik had seen the carcasses when the crews came back from patrol, whooping and cheering. Some would carry heads back as proof for payment, but the bodies were worth coin, too. The creatures were usually smaller than a fully grown human, with long snouts and sharp teeth and claws. Their blood was a thick, dripping green gunk that stank like nothing Rafik had smelled before. It was gathered and stored in heated buckets so it would not congeal prematurely before they could process it into the green powder.
Even dead, the Lizards looked dangerous. Despite Pikok’s claim that the lizards would not harm a Puzzler, Rafik did not savor the thought of being attacked by these creatures.
He peered around again, but everything was calm. This was their second stop. They’d hit a bunker midmorning. It was unplanned, but no one challenged Ramm’s orders, not even Bayne.
The Keenan crew was edgy, but morale was high. Before Rafik was sent to the base, the Keenans had been effectively nothing more than a well-equipped independent crew, working on rotation for a relatively small amount of coin or setting up for other guilds’ deep runs, but things were looking up now. Their last two runs were successful. The puzzle locks were simple enough, and they encountered no Lizards. This time, though, the risk was higher; they were much farther away from the base, at least an hour’s ride east, and a spell of sandstorms had kept the crews at base for most of the week. Still, Ramm must have thought it worth the risk.
The commander was combat ready and restless, at least as far as Rafik could tell; the dark visor he wore covered the last remaining bits of flesh he had exposed. His movements were a bit jerky, though, and he snapped orders, a sure sign of Skint withdrawal. Rafik caught Bayne sending Narona a meaningful stare, but she simply shrugged and turned away. A little later Ramm ordered Bayne to clear the way to the node.
Rafik heard Bayne’s voice on the Comm: “Place is clear to the third floor.”
“Good, keep going up another five floors, just to make sure,” Ramm barked through the Comm. “Narona, Puzzle Boy, and I are going in. Fravik, secure the area outside the building. I want you to shallow mine the southwest perimeter.”
Fravik, a squat but vicious combat Troll, who carried a heavy machine gun on a waist brace, nodded and began issuing orders on a subchannel.
Ramm turned and motioned the crew to follow him. He hefted his arm cannon and began slowly crossing the street. Rafik and three Trolls got up and followed him. Narona joined them in the middle of the street.
“Report coming in that there’s a sandstorm five miles to the west,” she briefed in a careful, even tone, not giving any sign that she disagreed with Ramm’s decision to make this unscheduled stop.
Ramm unscrewed a small metal disk from his belt. “Then we better hurry,” he said and flung the disk high in the air, where it hovered above them. “This will l
et us know if we have company,” he said.
“Wasn’t that Commander Doro’s radar?” one of the Trolls blurted out and quickly regretted it.
Ramm turned around and aimed the cannon straight at his face. “I don’t think Doro needs it where he is right now,” he spat. “Want to go ask him?”
Narona was the only one who had any influence on Ramm. She laid a hand on his arm. “Let’s get the loot,” she said, and somehow it worked. Ramm lowered his weapon, and they walked to the main doors of the tall building. Ramm ordered the three Trolls to stand guard outside while he, Narona, and Rafik went inside.
From far away the buildings looked intact, but up close the place was a mess of soot, stone, and twisted metal. Exposed wiring was all over the floor, like giant snakes in some children’s tale. Ramm moved with confidence, kicking aside or stepping on whatever was in his way.
The stairs were wide but filled with debris, and they moved in complete darkness. Narona replaced her sniper rifle with a short ray gun and held a light torch with her other hand. From there on it was a slow climb, Ramm taking point and Narona guarding their rear. They reached a landing on the sixth floor that was partly blocked by the collapse of two massive double doors. Rafik could have easily squeezed through, but there was not enough space for Ramm. From an angle, Rafik could see the commander smirk as he pointed his gun at the doors and squeezed the trigger. In less than two heartbeats the doors became nothing more than twisted metal on the floor. Ramm bellowed out a laugh and changed the power tube on his weapon.
They continued to move through the corridor. Only the sound of their footsteps echoed back at them. They reached a large room; in its centre was a large rectangular wall made of shining Tarakan metal. A blast from Ramm’s cannon proved it was the real deal.
“Good,” muttered Ramm. “There must be something expensive behind it.”
Narona looked around suspiciously but holstered her gun. “How did you know about this place? It’s not on the charts.”
“Oh, a little blip in the grid told me,” Ramm said, obviously pleased with himself.
Narona shrugged, “Let’s open it, then. We’re running out of light.”
Ramm pointed at the puzzle lock, which was part of the metal wall and positioned at adult height. Yet when Rafik pointed his fingers towards the three holes, the lock slid down to his shoulder level and caused the three of them to jump back in surprise.
“Rust. I haven’t seen that before,” Ramm said. “Did you see that? It moved inside the rusting wall.”
Narona got up from the far corner, where she’d rolled to when the lock moved, but this time she did not holster her gun. She fixed the door with a wary stare. “I don’t like this, Ramm. This is no bunker.”
Ramm didn’t answer. Instead, he beckoned Rafik forward. “Do it, boy,” he said.
Rafik raised his hand obediently, yet he hesitated just before inserting his fingers into the lock.
“What’s the matter, key?” Ramm barked impatiently.
There was something menacing about the gaping holes. “My head hurts,” he said, “and I’m tired.” It was true. Rafik’s head throbbed, and although the previous bunker’s puzzle lock was not very complex, it had left him fatigued. The fact that almost every night he woke up screaming from his nightmare didn’t help his condition, either. He learned that two Trolls moved to a different floor, accepting smaller rooms, just so they could keep their distance from him.
“I don’t give a bucket of screws how you feel, key. Open this rust box and don’t let me tell you again,” Ramm said.
Blinking away tears, Rafik shoved his fingers into the box. The transition was never pleasant, but this time it was extremely uncomfortable. Rafik felt himself sucked into the puzzle, but instead of floating above rows of symbols he found himself in a cage puzzle, like the one he’d experienced with Pikok. The symbols whirled around him at incredible speed. Rafik turned in his place several times, feeling his panic level rise. He could not make sense of the puzzle.
Then the walls suddenly moved an inch inwards, closing in on him. Reflexively he touched one side, only to be rewarded with a painful jolt that made him double over and almost faint with pain.
His mind went numb with fear. He heard Narona shouting something from far away, but he could not decipher her words. The walls moved closer again. They were just over an arm’s length away from him now. Rafik used a breathing technique he’d learned from Master Goran to calm his nerves.
He heard his mentor’s voice: Remember, fear will kill you. Succumb to it, and you have no chance of surviving.
As his breathing slowed Rafik looked around, hoping that the first few patterns he found would slow things down and give him enough time to find the more elusive threads. Another wave of fear washed over him as the walls advanced still further inwards. Now there was less than an arm’s length of space around his body. Then he heard Pikok’s wispy voice: Th-th-this one, b-b-blue dots with yellow r-r-ribbons. It is obvious.
It was not obvious at all to Rafik. Pikok would be astonished that Rafik could not see what he would have found plainly obvious. In Goran’s lab Rafik had learned to memorize many patterns, but there was a huge difference between memorizing a series of symbols and actually finding a pattern under stressful circumstances. Rafik suspected that Pikok didn’t need to memorize the symbols like he did.
Rafik was still looking around when he noticed a familiar symbol whiz by above his head. He stopped it in its place, and then saw another one crossing to his left. He held on to that one, too. A few heartbeats later he was holding several strains of symbols around himself, but the walls still didn’t halt their progress. They were now just a hair’s breadth away from his body, and he frantically grasped for more strands of patterns. Then the walls closed in on him.
Rafik screamed. His body jolted full of energy as the symbols poured into him. For a fraction of a second he saw himself hovering over his own body as symbols entered inside all his orifices. Just as the darkness took him, Rafik suddenly understood.
45
There was darkness, and then there was light, followed by pain that made him writhe in agony. Symbols floated around him in a slow spiral, crawling up his body like thin snakes. The patterns swivelled into one long strain, then multiplied several times and became an arm, a leg, a torso, a face, a body, all made of tiny moving symbols. He understood them all, and then there was no more pain. A face made of symbols leaned down and opened its mouth and words came out not as sounds but as patterns. They formed a word: Rafik.
The face became flesh, and Rafik saw the melted face that haunted his dreams.
“Rafik,” it moaned again, then turned into a female voice. “I think he’s coming around.”
The face became two faces: Narona and Bayne.
Bayne helped Rafik sit up. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Rafik opened his mouth to answer but he couldn’t find his voice. He shook his head.
Bayne helped him to his feet while he heard Narona admonishing Ramm.
“You almost killed him. The only Puzzler we’ve got.”
“But I didn’t. He unlocked the damn door, like he’s supposed to. Otherwise, what’s the point of owning a rusting Puzzler, anyway?”
Rafik turned his head. The world broke into patterns and symbols, and then it came back together and he saw Ramm holding a metal object in his hand. His metal visor was up, and he was scrutinizing the object with a smug expression. “An energy ball! Sweet metal, that baby is going to get us enough dough to recalibrate and still have some left over for a party.”
Narona shook her head. “I still think it wasn’t worth the risk. We could have lost him.”
“You’re not commanding this operation, so don’t meddle in my business,” Ramm snapped.
Narona was about to speak when they heard over the Comm, “Lizards three clicks north, moving in.” And, after a pause, “Rust, there are a lot of them.”
They moved to the transparent wall and pe
ered down. It was calm and quiet, but the Keenan Trolls were moving into combat positions.
Rafik knew that Ramm, Narona, and Bayne were wired to several sensors. Commander Doro had spent a lot of coin to equip his crew well. They could see the enemy advancing as red dots on the insides of their visors, which showed friendly combatants as blue. But Rafik wasn’t wired. He couldn’t see what was going on, which made him feel helpless and frightened.
“Rusting metal, it’s a whole hive,” whispered Bayne.
Ramm began barking orders into the Comm, and Rafik saw their vehicles manoeuvring quickly to block the street.
“Here they come!” Rafik heard someone shout over the Comm, and everyone opened fire at once. At first he couldn’t see anything but blinding light crisscrossing the wide road. Then he saw three Lizards in the middle of the street get ripped to shreds in a green cloud of vaporised blood.
“Let’s go!” Bayne shouted and propelled Rafik forward. “We need to get out of here.”
Narona took point this time while Ramm followed behind, still bellowing commands into the Comm. They didn’t go back the way they came, and at some point they had to cross to the other side of the floor due to collapsed stairs. It was at that moment that all three warriors saw in their visors what was being shouted over the Comm.
“They’re splitting up! Some are heading to the northeast part of the building.”
“What is that rust?” shouted Ramm, as he stopped near a glass wall that was facing the northeast. Four Lizards were climbing the surface from the outside, their claws visibly sticking to the surface. It was the first time Rafik saw one up close, and terror gripped his body. Despite their deformed faces, claws, and green skin, the Lizards looked almost human, and not only in size. One of the Lizards stopped climbing and eyed them with unnerving cunningness. It bared its razor-sharp teeth in a silent snarl, detached one of its claws from the surface, and punched the transparent wall several times.