by Jim Stein
The stream bed was four feet deep, but the water only a few inches. Rounded pebbles covered the bottom, just visible through murky red water. Wisps of green fluttered from the rocky surfaces, but the small fish and water bugs I would have expected were missing.
“You don’t want to drink that.” Pete called from the lake’s edge near the end of the dam.
“We can always boil it.” Vance looked from Pete to the canteen he’d pulled from his trunk.
Pete shook his head and waved us over. A large flat paddle swept down into the lake bottom just past the edge of the wall—no, not a paddle, a fin! Tendons stood out beneath the mottled skin where the appendage disappeared into deeper, darker water.
“It’s a dinosaur!” Quinn said.
The massive creature was similar to—but different than—the aquatic animals detailed in scientific journals. It resembled the species people used to explain the Loch Ness monster, with a long tapered neck and those massive flippers. But ridges down its sides and a long translucent fin running the length of its back made it also look like some Godzilla of a seahorse—mutated by uncontrolled radiation and bent on tearing down high-tension wires.
“It’s definitely dead.” Manny strolled farther up the shoreline to get a look at the far side.
The creature lay on its side, blocking the outgoing stream. The crown of its head sat visible above the surface, one cloudy eye staring blindly into the setting sun. The water flowing around it ran redder than downstream.
We joined the road manager, and Pete let out a piercing whistle of appreciation. The water beyond the fleshy dam was deep, rising halfway up the monster’s side to where a massive crescent of flesh had been torn away. Red still trickled from the ragged white meat.
“Crimson water mystery solved.” Quinn looked through her raised finger and thumb as if measuring the wound. “That is one big chomp.”
“More sand-dragons?” I asked.
“Too wide, unless they get a whole lot bigger.”
“They do not,” Dawa and his aide limped up to join us. Apparently traveling on the bucking wagon was taking its toll. Muuyaw stayed back with the vehicles, looking for all the world like he didn’t trust us. “Ground-dragons also do not hunt in water. I am unfamiliar with what could have done this.”
“It was a scavenger,” Dwain said, making us all jump because he and Ralph had somehow managed to hop across the water and now stood on the thing’s neck.
“Be careful, or you’ll slip off,” Quinn chided.
“Nah, the skin’s grippy like shark’s skin. We couldn’t fall if we tried. See?” The sprite hopped and kicked his feet in a little jig, then knelt to finger the hide. “This poor gal died of infection. Something came along and took a nice bite after she washed up.”
Dwain’s magic tasted of saltwater and leaves as he probed the carcass. Helping us might have put him on the shit-list with the Ants, but they hadn’t felt compelled to shackle his power. His magic was subtle, and I lost track as the power probed deeper.
“Yep, she got scraped up good on the underside,” he said after a minute. “Wound went septic and led to organ failure. Hard way to go. Been dead…eh, I’d say about four hours.”
“Wait, the chomp-master could still be around? That bite’s a good six feet across.” Pete studied the shoreline, then relaxed. “Must be aquatic. No tracks.”
Ralph trotted along the length of the beast as we spoke. When he got back to Dwain, the imp tugged on his shirt.
“Hey, Ralph found them.” Dwain’s big grin was at odds with the news as he pointed to the far side of the stream. “Really big prints over there.”
We coaxed the pair down and drove across the bridge to investigate. The tracks were five-foot-wide circles of compressed mud, then soil, then grass. Arcs along the leading edge of each print hinted at three stubby toes. The tree-trunk legs of an elephant came to mind, but this animal would be much bigger and we couldn’t tell if it walked on two or four legs. As the prints progressed away from the shoreline they grew shallow, starting at a foot deep and shrinking to a few inches before getting lost in the tall wiry grass.
Even though something that big should be visible from a mile away, none of us wanted to linger. We moved on at a notably faster pace in spite of the jostling it inflicted on our passengers in tow. I wanted to make the foothills before dark.
“Wish I had sunglasses,” Quinn muttered and shielded her eyes.
“Your wish is my command.” I gave her a little squeeze and handed over the spare pair from my travel pouch.
“Well, aren’t you the boy scout.” She slipped them on, cursed, and gunned the engine.
We lurched forward at breakneck speed. Ralph slid down the tank, but sank his talons into my knee to keep from tumbling off. The cart creaked ominously under the strain of acceleration. I held tight and looked back to find the twins braced against the side rails as the cart bucked and swayed. Dawa’s mouth dropped open and he pointed at something over my right shoulder.
A white and gray boulder the size of my little SUV lay off to the side of our path. Though encrusted with dirt and looking oddly damp, I couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about until our passing disturbed a swarm of nymphs. They rose in a thick cloud, revealing ragged strips of dirty flesh hanging from the thousand-pound chunk of meat.
“Little faster?” I urged in a manly squeak.
24. Mirage
W
HEN WE were well past the rotting chunk of meat, Quinn slowed to a less jarring pace and my kidneys sent up a little cheer.
“Our monster-at-large must not have liked the taste of infected meat.” Quinn broke the tense silence.
“Wonderful, so it’s still hungry.” We’d fought things like that in the past with what might generously be called limited success. “At least we haven’t run across any other nasties since leaving the village.”
“They’re too busy converging on the vortex. Looked like a damned army when we first came across.”
“Too much like one. I hope Piper and the gang are okay.”
Silence again settled over us. We’d abandoned the others back at Pete’s farm, which meant they would take the brunt of those invading forces. Among them, only Anna had magic. I’d seen that girl throw back a mob of attackers, but self-doubt and emotions still undermined her control.
Foothills loomed in the gloom ahead as rocky landscape gave way to sparse trees that must have once been truly breathtaking. A braid of delicate vines formed each trunk, with a spider’s web of branches fanning out at tight tiers that grew wider toward the top to form an artistic vee. But as we’d seen in the forest, those wispy branches twisted like arthritic hands and the purple-green leaves curled as though being sucked dry. Spikey shrubs replaced the tall grass and looked nasty enough to slice through clothes.
Sunshine still slanted from ahead, painting long caricatures across the ground behind us. The shadows trailed us, frolicking and overlapping as each vehicle dodged around vegetation. Movement drew my attention to a clump of trees about a half mile off on the left. Though a thin stand, their shadows merged under the setting sun, condensing and coalescing into a solid block.
Impossibly, the block stretched to three times the height and I found myself looking out at an elevated train track running atop a strip of stores with a majestic stone wall anchoring the far end. Incredibly, a couple emerged from the door of a red-brick shop, strolled across the sidewalk, and climbed the iron steps leading up to the train platform.
“Look at that!” I spun Quinn by her shoulders so she faced the scene.
It was definitely a mistake as far as driver safety was concerned. Our ATV slewed in the opposite direction as the handlebars pulled with her, the right-hand tires lifting off the ground. We both flew off and hit hard. The fall had barely registered when a barbed tail slapped me in the face, followed by an imp butt as Ralph slammed into me.
“What the hell—” Quinn didn’t have time to finish her question because we had to scramb
le out of the way.
The Ant’s cart barreled on, pushing the overturned ATV with the sound of grinding stone and metal. A fender ripped off, kicked up, and nearly took Larmoth’s head off. The Ant leaders stood at the forward rail and rode the cart to a grinding stop, looking almost regal as the scene unfolded in slow motion. Muuyaw turned his head as they slid past, bestowing an imperious sneer that dressed me down more thoroughly than shouted obscenities.
“What the hell?” Quinn—on the other hand—had no qualms about screaming. “You could have gotten us killed.”
I pointed out to where a commuter car sat loading passengers above the stores. Quinn gaped, as did the rest when they pulled up alongside our overturned vehicle. The vision shimmered, seeming less substantial than the warehouse we’d almost visited. The train itself wasn’t fully in view. Yellow light poured from the long set of windows of the first silver car and about half of the second. The train pulled out, followed dutifully by the second and then a third car as each smoothly passed the platform and vanished.
“It’s like a window into a movie set,” Vance said.
“And it’s fading.” Quinn was right.
Streetlamps with heads bowed over the platform dimmed, as did the glass storefronts. The red-brick building the couple had left blurred into a dull red then brown blob. The scene shimmered, leaving only the copse of twisted trees sitting at the base of a shallow rise.
“That wasn’t New Philly,” Pete said into the silence.
“A running train? I didn’t know they still existed.” Quinn absently stroked Ralph’s head.
“They don’t.” Vance said. “The precinct keeps records. The last train dropped out of service decades ago. The dwindling workforce just couldn’t keep up with track maintenance and safety. It’s why the National Highway Commission was formed to keep interstates open for trucking. Plus, commuter trains stopped early as the cities collapsed.”
“So we looked back in time?” I didn’t know what else to think.
“It’s possible,” Dwain said. “The world veil has separated the third and fourth worlds for thousands of years. With the magic failing, I think any moment along that timeline could bleed through.”
“So that scene was pre-virus?” I thought of the massive sea creature and whatever had taken a bite out of it. “And we could have dinosaurs stumbling out as this thing deteriorates.”
“Probably not.” Dwain sucked air through his teeth as he chose his words. “These things aren’t my specialty—you’d have to talk to Kokopelli for a better explanation. But you saw how flat and surreal the buildings and people looked, like watching one of your moving pictures. Most moments in time will be out of sync. Things and people wouldn’t be able to move between there and here because a residual barrier exists. When the time on both sides is current day there is actually a hole through the veil that can be crossed.”
“We’ll have to take your word for it.” What else could we do?
It took three of us to flip the ATV upright. Pete cursed and sweated as he tore away the broken fairing and rear fender so they didn’t gouge the tires. Miraculously, the tow bar had only been twisted and was still usable. Dusk settled over our small caravan, and we moved out with headlights blazing.
As true night fell over the declining landscape, our artificial lights brought out a bit of its lost magic. Those once enchanting trees sparkled under the beams. Glittering spores left rainbow trails as they rose from the dying leaves and blew away on the gentle breeze.
It wasn’t until we stopped for the night and shut off the engines that the subtle music of the place rose. The base of the hills offered a modicum of shelter, and we parked the ATVs in a semi-circle to cover our exposed side. As we unloaded, a quiet snapping like puffed cereal settling into milk rose from all around. It grew into a background static punctuated by melodic little croaks and airy calls from tiny throats.
By day we’d seen nothing alive except the occasional cloud of nymphs. But the night sang with a chorus of invisible life. I itched to grab a light and go explore—to see what creatures played in this symphony of nature. But more pressing matters needed attention.
Dawa and Larmoth joined us as everyone dug into the bit of food the Ants allowed for our trip. The advisor leaned heavily on the Ant leader, who wasn’t walking so well himself. I assumed the bouncing ride had tired them, but Muuyaw moved effortlessly, which had me looking closer.
“You’re hurt.” A wet patch glistened along Larmoth’s right hip.
Dawa half carried Larmoth using only his left arm because his right dangled at his side. Dwain and I converged on the pair from opposite sides and helped lower the advisor to the ground where we could get a better look.
The close-fitting smock he wore and the top of his trousers were sliced open. Blood welled out through a cloth pressed against the wound, looking black under the harsh camp lights. I called up just enough Fire to inspect the injury. In my Sight, red lines of infection already shone dull and angry as they radiated from the six-inch cut in his skin.
“Crap, that flying fender must have caught him when we flipped.” My chest tightened—the accident had been my fault.
“No, this tear was made by a fang or claw. See here?” Dwain’s power flowed over the area as he pulled back the temporary bandage. “Smaller slices along each side and punctures.”
“It was the ground dragon.” Larmoth spoke between panting breaths. “I didn’t want to…there wasn’t time.”
“He hid the wound so we wouldn’t worry,” Dawa said. “With all the bouncing and jostling, I hadn’t noticed the boy got hurt.”
I could heal with the Fire element, but Dwain had been working with these people and knew their physiology. I watched him sooth the inflamed tissue and try to purge the infection. Fire would have burned the sickness out. The sprite had a subtle touch. His power infused and neutralized the rampant infection. Even with my rudimentary medical knowledge, I could tell something was wrong.
Dwain couldn’t quite penetrate the layers of material building up over the area—over each of the tendrils of sickness as they continued to spread. The pockets and sheaths blocking him grew remarkably fast, like cancerous tumors on steroids. His power calmed the growths, but didn’t stop them from encasing more and more of the area under a thick layer of tissue and bone. The build-up wasn’t yet visible to the naked eye, but it was easy to see where the poor Ant would end up if the process remained unchecked. Out of the corner of my eye, Dawa winced and eased his right arm into his lap.
“Let me see that.” I turned to the Ant leader, leaving Dwain to do his best.
“No need.”
He turned away, but not before I caught a glimpse of the gash on his arm. My heart sank. I needed help from someone with his head screwed on straight. An injury put Dawa on the fast track to incapacitated. If Dwain or I couldn’t heal him, Muuyaw would surely seize power and there would be no compromise.
In spite of his protests and attempts to pull away, I opened my Sight and reached for Dawa’s injured arm. If Larmoth’s condition was any indication, the faster we got to work, the better. Even so, Dwain fought a losing battle against the other Ant’s immune system.
“Don’t be a hero,” I scolded. “I’ll get a second opinion from Dwain before doing anything major.”
Dawa looked as if he might argue, but sagged and presented his spindly arm. My music swelled, clean and pure after days of listening to the ear worm. Fire rose on the frantic lyrics of “Savior” by Rise Against. Though it was technically a love song, the words focused on saving while there was something left to save.
The lyrics didn’t always need to suit the spell, but these did, as did the frenzied chorus. If Dwain’s battle beside me was any indication, helping Dawa would take all of Fire’s wild capabilities.
I sculpted music and magic into the glowing implement that was my spell, carefully probed the flesh of his bicep, and found…nothing. Oh, there was a gash very similar to the advisor’s, but no sign of inf
ection or out of control autoimmune response. In fact, the wound had closed over, forming a scab with perfect pink skin waiting under the crust. If I didn’t know any better, I would say the injury was a week old. Even as I watched, blood and nutrients flooded the newly formed skin helping it thicken and push toward the surface.
“What the hell?” This ran counter to all I’d seen, all Dwain had learned of this place and its people.
“I told you I needed no help. Attend to our aide.” Dawa pulled away with a heavy sigh and pleading look. “Please.”
Over the next thirty minutes, Dwain work his subtle spells to cajole and coax Larmoth’s body into stabilizing. The sprite had me help twice, once when he’d lost control of the infection in the hip socket and again when unexpected inflammation showed up at the lymph node under the left armpit. In both instances, I released Fire on a tight leash, and it hungrily consumed the toxic materials. But it couldn’t destroy the underlying cause without consuming Larmoth from the inside out.
“That’s it for now,” Dwain announced. “Sleep will do him and us good.”
“You look like hell.” I smiled to take the sting out of the observation.
“As do you, my friend. Interesting technique with your elementals, like releasing a ravenous beast then jerking it back before it finishes eating. Powerful, but keeping that under control would wear me out. And we’ll have more to do tomorrow.”
“How bad is he?” I kept my voice low as we headed over to reclaim our abandoned meals.
“We can ease his condition. The others live a surprisingly long time as their deformities manifest. But it’s painful and the rate of progress is different for each person. His body reacted faster than most, but we slowed things down. He should be able to function for another week, maybe two.”
And that was a good prognosis compared to most. Wrapping up head-to-toe like a mummy made sense now. Their outfits were armor against life’s little scrapes and cuts, which would be deadly for the fragile race. Just thinking of it made my head ache. Or that could be backlash from handling Fire.