Into The Out Of

by Alan Dean Foster

  "To defend ourselves and our herds. With our spears and knives. The Maasai do not carry guns. It would not be fair."

  "It's certainly more sporting." Oak was shoveling in scrambled eggs and hash browns.

  Olkeloki's expression narrowed. "Sporting? There is no sport in killing. That is another strange ilmeet custom. I have studied it for many years and still find no philosophical basis for such an institution. Only immature children find sport in killing."

  "Whoa now, I didn't say I supported it. Fact is I'm against it. Anything you kill, you eat."

  "That is human."

  "What hotel are you staying at, Merry?"

  "Sheraton. This side of the river, I think."

  "Fine." He wiped his mouth, crumpled the napkin. "We'll finish up here and I'll shove some stuff into one of my backpacks. Then we'll shoot over and get your stuff." He turned to Olkeloki. "How about you?"

  "I have one suitcase. I am somewhat attached to it." Oak nodded. "We'll get it too and then head out to the airport. What about reservations?"

  "That will not be necessary. We will buy tickets on the next appropriate plane going to London."

  "It may not be that simple." Oak repressed a smile.

  "School's out and this is the time of year when a lot of Americans take their vacations."

  "It has been my experience that they do not fly on a plane called the Concorde. It flies higher than the shetani."

  "Seats on the Concorde cost 50 percent more than first class on a regular flight. How are you going to pay for that? You can't just dump gold and diamonds in front of a ticket clerk."

  "I have also brought with me many traveler's checks. I am not ignorant of the ways of ilmeet commerce, Joshua Oak, and I prepared for my journey accordingly. How do you think I came from London to your city? I only wish the same machine traveled between London and Nairobi but alas, it would not be a profitable route. You ilmeet are driven by profit. We could fly one to Riyadh in Saudi Arabia, but I should prefer not to."

  Oak was sympathetic. "Memories of the slave trade, huh?"

  "Which did not involve the Maasai. We were not cooperative enough. No, it is simply that I would like to avoid the extra change of planes that would be necessary. And the connections are bad. I do not wish to linger in London."

  "It's your money. We'll get Merry's stuff, then yours, and head on out to Dulles. How was your breakfast?"

  "The milk had a strange flavor and was too cold at first. The meat was good, though not fresh."

  "Maybe it was aged. Isn't meat better after it's been aged?" Merry asked.

  "A common fallacy among the ilmeet."

  Oak's housekeeper had made use of the station wagon. It started instantly and the needle on the fuel gauge swung right until it cleft the "E." Rush hour was fading and it didn't take long to make their way into town, stop at the two hotels, and swing back west toward the international airport. It was too early in the summer for the real heat and humidity. Spring flowers still lingered among the trees lining the roads.

  Oak was startled to find that he was staring to enjoy himself. Danger of an as yet undefined kind might be stalking their footsteps, but he could live with the presence of that old companion. By God, he was on vacation! And being paid handsomely for taking one. He could thank the old man for that while trying to keep an open mind about these shetani of his.

  Not only was he on vacation, but a pretty woman was riding next to him. Merry Sharrow was staring out the window, finding as much delight in the sight of a new home set back among the trees as in the White House or Library of Congress. He wondered if she would show similar enthusiasm for the delights of the boudoir.

  The station wagon rolled onto the shoulder and he resolutely forced his gaze back to the road.

  Traffic was light as they turned off Interstate 66 onto the section of freeway known as the Dulles Airport Access Road. The heavy station wagon might be a technological anachronism, but it provided a smooth, easy ride no compact could match. Merry continued to ooh and aah at each new scene, exuding enough energy to power the big Ford all by herself.

  She really hasn't the faintest idea what she's getting into, he mused. An ordinary (well, prettier than ordinary) woman from the wilds of the Northwest on an ordinary vacation who'd fallen into something out of Frank Buck by way of James Bond. Right now she was too excited by the prospect of going off on a genuine "adventure" to consider that it might be full of real dangers. Probably all she could think about was that she was going to an exotic land to see all those funny animals you normally only encountered in zoos.

  They sped past the turnoff to Wolftrap Center as he spoke to the sole occupant of the back seat.

  "What do these shetani look like?" As he asked the question he remembered loading the wagon. First his backpack, then Merry's, and lastly the old man's suitcase, older and more beat-up than any piece of luggage he'd ever seen. Either Olkeloki had done a lot more traveling than he'd talked about or else that suitcase had been sitting out in the African sun for years. It reminded him of the old commercial for American Tourister luggage, the one where a gorilla spends several minutes bashing the suitcase around his cage. Ironic that Olkeloki was the only one he'd ever met who might actually have been in a position to have that happen to his luggage for real.

  "No one knows for certain," the old man was saying in reply to the question. "There are hundreds, perhaps thousands of different kinds of shetani. You saw one yourself."

  "All I saw was something small that went running across a restaurant floor. It might've been a house cat. Whatever was on top of our elevator could have been a man."

  "What about my dog-thing?" Merry countered.

  "You've already said yourself it looked as much like a person moving on all fours."

  "There are shetani with more than one head," Olkeloki was saying, "and the two are not necessarily alike. There are shetani whose faces dangle from the ends of their arms in place of hands, and shetani with mouths bigger than their bodies. There are shetani as tall as giraffes, like the Likutu, or the dangerously playful like the Adinkula. Some shetani practice witchcraft. The Liyama eat only clay and water.

  "The Siwawi eat fish and live in the ocean, but come out on land to suck energy out of each other's tongues, and the Chingwele eat only snakes. They have sharp blades growing from their heads and arms. There are three kinds of chameleon shetani: those who resemble ordinary reptiles, those as big as your arm, and some who grow to the size of a cow. You do not ever want to encounter one of those."

  "Why not?" asked Merry.

  "Do you know how a chameleon eats?" He went into graphic detail until Merry looked mildly disgusted and Oak decided to put an end to these fantasies once and for all. It was time to get serious, time to take the masks off and find out who they were really up against.

  "What I don't understand," he said casually, "is that if these shetani are around us all the time, why we don't see more of them?"

  "You do not know how to look for them. Also, most shetani move about only at night, when people sleep. They usually avoid people. Now that the way from the Out Of is weakening, that is beginning to change. But once you see one clearly, you will always be able to see them. It is both a blessing and a curse, because as you become able to see them, so they will be more aware of your awareness. Sometimes it is better to dwell in ignorance. That is a luxury we can no longer afford." He looked out the right side of the car and spoke again before Oak could offer his next carefully thought-out objection.

  "Never have I seen so many shetani, so bold and numerous. They must have been gathering for many years to be present in an ilmeet country in such numbers."

  Oak looked sharply to his right, saw nothing unusual, and made a quick scan of the terrain ahead and off to the left. The car swerved slightly and Merry threw him a cautioning glance.

  "There's nothing out there but trees and highway, old man."

  "They cover themselves with darkness. That is why they cling to the forests and the
night. But they are here, yes. They are all around us, clever little killers that they are. I think they are enjoying the warm sun. They must have worked long and hard to perfect such disguises."

  For a second time Oak surveyed the highway, saw nothing but pavement, trees, an occasional house. Cars and trucks flashed by in the opposing lanes.

  "The next time we pass one of these things, you point it out to me as we go by."

  "Very well. It may be dangerous for us. As I said, the shetani usually leave people alone in broad daylight—unless they feel others are aware of their presence. Then they may react."

  "I'll take that chance."

  "Are you sure, Josh?"

  "Look, woman," he told Merry in no-nonsense tones, "don't you understand what's happening here? This isn't a damn game. We're getting ready to jump on a plane to fly halfway around the world with an old man who may or may not be missing a few straws from his bale because something or somebody is giving him and his tribe trouble. I'm convinced something happened to us yesterday in that restaurant and elevator, but I'm still not sure what. Before I go transatlantic, I'd like to be sure."

  "I do not understand all your words, Joshua Oak." Olkeloki was frowning.

  "No big deal. You just show me the first shetani we pass."

  "If you insist."

  If Oak expected a long silence, he was disappointed. The old man looked out the window to his right and pointed. "There, three of them, hibernating as is their wont."

  "What, where?" Oak hit the brakes so hard that Merry had to use both hands to keep from being thrown into the dash. Fortunately there was no one behind them or they would have been rear-ended for sure.

  The station wagon skidded to a stop on the shoulder, leaving black streaks on the concrete. Oak backed up until they were parallel to the spot Olkeloki had pointed out. Beyond the drainage ditch thick with phlox and ragweed lay private forest, bushes, and grass.

  "Where? I don't see a damn thing. Are they back in the trees?"

  "No, they are quite near." Oak snorted, started to open his door. "I wouldn't do that," the old man said hastily. "They may be sensitized to you by now."

  "What may be sensitized to me? Look, this has gone just about far enough. I don't know what happened back at the restaurant, but I sure as hell don't see any African aberrations running around out here." Ignoring the old man's warning, he got out and walked around to the front of the car. Merry Sharrow looked on anxiously, scanning the trees. The dog-thing had disappeared into the trees, that rainy morning back home. She rolled down her window.

  "Josh, maybe you ought to get back in."

  The only things moving in the grass and bushes were birds and bugs. A couple of cars going toward the airport whizzed past in the fast lane. Overhead a 747 lumbered southward, probably heading for South America. When he'd first stepped out onto the pavement he'd felt nervous, then silly. Now he was getting angry.

  "Why? You see anything, Merry?"

  "No," she admitted.

  Olkeloki slid out of the back seat and walked up to stand alongside Oak. He gestured with his walking stick, not into the woods but down into the ditch. Merry strained to see. Oak didn't have to strain. It was so sad he couldn't laugh. So the whole business yesterday had been some sort of illusion or clever cover after all.

  Three large, twisted black shapes lay on the edge of the ditch. They were chunks of tire rubber, the kind of debris that's scattered along the banks of every highway and interstate in the country. Whenever a big eighteen wheeler loses a tire, the rubber shreds during disintegration, sending pieces of itself flying in all directions. Eventually the fragments are bumped or pushed to the sides of the roadways until cleanup crews can get to them.

  "And I suppose those empty beer cans over there are giant insects," Oak snapped. "Maybe it's time you told us what kind of con you're really trying to pull?"

  "Some of it is tire rubber." Olkeloki did not wear the look of a man who'd been found out. "Notice the color."

  "Black. What should it be, pink?"

  "Black is the color of the shetani, the color of night, the only color with which they can mask themselves. You have to give them credit. What a clever way to conceal themselves in the countries of the ilmeet until the time comes for them to rise up and work their chaos. This way they are able to hide in plain sight and even to move about. The shetani have been very smart."

  "Sure they have." Drawing back his leg, he prepared to kick the nearest chunk of rubber into the ditch. Merry inhaled sharply.

  The tire fragment sailed over the ditch and landed in the grass beyond.

  Oak turned back to the car. "Did you see that, Merry?

  Did you see the danger we're in? See, killer African ghosts, right here on the highway." He wound up and kicked the second piece.

  If he hadn't been wearing his hiking boots he probably would have lost his foot. The black strip twisted like lightning. Flat, razor-sharp teeth clamped down hard on the ankle of the boot and penetrated about a quarter of an inch. A shocked Oak stumbled backward against the hood of the station wagon, kicking reflexively, but the basketball-sized figure clung to his foot with its obscenely large mouth. It had a long body, a pencil-thin neck, long thin arms, no legs, two eyes at the end of stalks which were offset to the right side of the flattened skull, and a mouth full of four-inch-long teeth.

  Unable to reach flesh and bone, the little horror released its grip on his ankle and bit down higher up. The leather there was thinner and Oak could feel the edge of the teeth. He kicked again, waving his leg around in the air. The horror hung on despite his violent contortions. A long thin tongue lined with tiny filelike teeth shot out of the top of the mouth and whipped up his pants leg. It was a good two feet long and normally lay curled up deep inside the bulbous body.

  "Get it off," moaned a voice Oak barely recognized as his own, "Get it offfff!"

  Olkeloki took a step to his left, raised the heavy walking stick over his head, and brought it down sharply on the shetani's back. To Oak it seemed that the staff just bounced off that incredibly tough body, but the horror's eyestalks swiveled around to glare up at the laibon. The staff descended a second time to crash against the narrow skull. The eyestalks retracted and the shetani let go.

  It stood there for an instant, glaring and growling at them. Then it turned and sprinted toward the ditch, running on its two hands and occasionally balancing itself with that disgusting tongue. It leaped over a pile of broken bottles, bashed through a sack of garbage, and vanished into a drainage culvert.

  A big Safeway truck went thundering past. The driver let off a blast from his air horn by way of greeting. Oak leaned against the hood of the car, listening to his heart trying to blast its way out of his chest.

  Olkeloki put his hand on his shoulder and he jumped. The old man was not smiling. "Come. They know we are here. They will gather to try to stop us now."

  "I don't know what to say. I—I'm sorry I—that thing…"

  "Apologize later. Drive now. We do not want to be caught out in the open like this and stopped before we have begun."

  "No—no." He turned and limped back toward the driver's side. There was pain above his ankle where the creature's teeth had penetrated. He could still see it clinging determinedly to his leg, the red eyes glaring soullessly up at him, could feel that grotesque tongue rasping against his skin. His sock was starting to get soggy with blood.

  The station wagon left rubber behind as it squealed out into the highway. The Toyota Celica Oak hadn't seen in the rear-view screeched as its driver sent it careening wildly around the wagon. The man shook his fist and shouted unheard obscenities. Oak ignored him.

  Merry was leaning over and studying his right leg. "I can see the tooth marks where it bit through the top of your boot."

  He nodded absently, pushing the wagon up to seventy-five before slowing down. He didn't want to be stopped by the patrol. Not here. It took him a few minutes to find his voice.

  "What the hell was it?" he asked
hoarsely. "What was it, old man?"

  "A Namangonye shetani, I believe. Normally they are interested only in stealing food from gardens and they leave people alone. But these are not normal times. Not with the barriers between reality and the Out Of growing so weak. Ah, there are two more of them."

  Oak kept his gaze resolutely forward, but Merry looked to her right. She followed the objects with her eyes until they had receded out of sight. "They really do look like tire fragments."

  "Most are nothing more than what they appear to be. It is difficult to tell. The shetani are superb mimics and can—"

  "Oh shit!" Oak wrenched hard on the wheel. Merry screamed as the station wagon skidded, slid, and bumped over something. Oak glanced into the rear-view mirror. "Whole slew of 'em, lying bunched up in the middle of the road waiting for us."

  "What if it was only tire rubber?" Merry said accusingly. "You could have killed us!"

  "Didn't you feel it?" he replied wolfishly. "Smashed right through them. It didn't feel like running over rubber." Already the objects they'd struck had fallen out of sight behind the fast-moving car.

  "But how could they know so soon?"

  "They are aware of our presence now," Olkeloki explained. "They have their own means of communication, which I cannot pretend to understand, but I think that we will be safe once we are on the plane."

  Merry's response was to let out another scream and try to bury herself in her seat. Something was crawling over the front grille, clawing its way over the LTD symbol on the front of the hood and making its way slowly toward them. This one had legs. It also had a gaping mouth that ran from the right side of its face all the way around and up the left jaw to end only where an ear should have been. Four spikes ran across the top of the head. They were ridged as if with fur. The eyes bulged out of the skull and a single nostril protruded from the right side of the face. Sharpened, human-sized teeth lined the vast mouth.

  "Kibwenge shetani," said Olkeloki. "They are very persistent."

  "Make it go away!" Merry whined. It was right up against the glass now, staring in at them, kneeling on its thin legs and holding on to the windshield wipers. Stretching its impossible mouth incredibly wide, it bit down directly in front of Merry. The teeth cracked the glass but didn't penetrate. Meanwhile Oak was trying to maintain control of the wildly weaving car while fumbling for the gun in his shoulder holster.