by Mark Tufo
The man walked forward. “I’m Vice Colonel Truden.” He had his arm extended, his open palm face up. This was a greeting of some sort, I just had no clue how to respond. Did I drop a fist into his palm?
“Um, Vice Colonel, I’m not sure how to respond to that, and I don’t want to create an interdimensional incident. Already got enough of those.”
He glowered, or maybe it was a smile…or fuck who knows. Perhaps he had some gas. “If you accept my offer of friendship, you will drop your palm into mine, our thumbs will close and we will look at each other and give our names and titles.”
I did just that, but grew exceedingly uncomfortable as we peered into each other’s eyes for well past the acceptable limit, which for me was about two seconds. I’d had lovers I’d looked at for less time. (I’m not saying I’m proud of that fact, I’m just giving context.)
“Ah, he flinched!” the colonel yelled, his people laughed. The relief was palpable in us all.
He did the same with Jack and BT, both figured it was best to defer to the vice colonel, so, after a respectable time, they flinched as well. Got to admit I was surprised as hell when Truden offered the hand to Kalandar. The guy must have had his balls dipped in steel. Kalandar got down on a knee and bent over, extending his hand, which completely enveloped Truden’s. After a few moments, Kalandar leaned even further so that his face was directly in front of Truden’s; he then snorted, which made the Vice Colonel turn away. I thought things might immediately go back to being hostile, but if anything, it released whatever tension that may have still been malignantly holding on. Truden guffawed. Hearing someone laugh so freely was a welcome respite from the unending shit show we’d been forced to live through.
“Hungry?” Truden asked out of the blue; hadn’t even had a chance to respond when he called out, “Melcon! Get these men some food. And if you can get a change of clothes for that man? I don’t think I can look at that much longer.” He was referring to BT’s pimp outfit. “Klifton, get the Under Major on the radio, tell him we’re coming back to the column.”
“So, you believe what we said?” I asked as a packet of something called Headman stew was thrust into my hands.
“Lieutenant Talbot, we are not from this world either. These beings you call whistlers, we have been combating them for nearly a month. As far as we can tell, they originated in some remote mountainous terrain two continents from our home. They propagate swiftly and their ability to adapt is beyond precedence. We have found a way to keep more of them from spilling over into our world, but right now, our conflict is raging, who will finally win is very much still undetermined. My group and I had been tasked with destroying what intel said were ‘amassing centers.’ We’d no sooner located and began a bombardment when we found ourselves thrust into this unenviable place, crawling with the bastards. Perhaps, if we had met on my home world, I would not be so receptive, but it is difficult to call one’s fantastical story a lie when you have lived it yourself.”
“Are there more of you?” I asked, hoping for a vast army. “And what happened to the people on the continent you were fighting on?”
“That is an unfortunate situation,” he responded. I did not think he was going to elaborate; I was more than a little surprised when he did. “The gate that they were pouring through; it required abundant energy to close.”
I didn’t grasp what he meant until I did. “A nuke? You dropped a nuke?”
“I am a vice colonel; that is not a call I could make, but perhaps given the circumstances and what I knew about the enemy, I would have. The gate was located on Bruton held territory. It did not matter to them the reasons why we did what we did. In hindsight, we should have conferred. But during the best of diplomatic times, it would be difficult to call our two countries allies. We had limited time to mitigate the damage; no time to go through diplomatic channels, at least, that’s what was decided. We were fighting a war against insurgents and then the whistlers, as a fighting man, you realize the futility of waging war on two fronts,” he paused and shook his head. “I’m not sure what could have been done differently. We hoped the Brutons would understand the necessity of our actions, but when you instantaneously disintegrate a hundred thousand innocent people, rational thought tends to be removed from the equation.”
“Holy shit. Yeah, I can see why they are angry.”
“It is my hope that someday we will have the opportunity to repair the damage done, but right now, we as a species, as a world, are fighting for our very existence.”
“And where are you going now?” I had to know.
“We have reason to believe the epicenter is less than five clicktars ahead.”
I wanted to ask him what a clicktar was, but what was the point? Odds were he’d say something like: “a clicktar is 798 tribbles,” and on down that slippery slope we would go.
“We’re going to the same place. We’d like to join you.”
“Just as a point of note,” BT said. “I would not like to go, but I will go.”
In ten minutes, we’d been fed and given new weapons, which, after a few minutes of getting to know, were adequately familiar. BT had thankfully changed and we were now riding in a truck with Kalandar, who was laid out on the bed. We were by ourselves, as none of the Hillians wanted to be near the giant demon. No blame was placed, especially since all of their previous interaction had involved the much-less-friendly kind.
“At what point, Mike, do you think that all of this will get so weird that we’ll stop thinking about it?” Jack asked.
“I think we’ll be insane by then.”
“I don’t like talking to you sometimes.” Jack turned; he was looking through the sights of his new weapon. “I’m not a big fan of peep scopes.” It was a fixed sight, not something we could change out—not on the fly anyway. “And what the hell is a 12.5 ginmilar round?”
“I don’t know, but it looks like it’s going to kick like a mule.” I was wishing I could take a couple of Advil for the sore shoulder that was sure to come. The five clicktars roughly translated to twenty-five miles. I kept expecting to see where we were going and so I was on-edge the whole time. If I’d known how far it was, I could have relaxed for half an hour; I would have gladly enjoyed the downtime. I was approaching a level of weary vigilance when the column slowed then stopped. I stood up, along with Jack and BT, to look over the front of the truck. Kalandar had sat up and gently moved me to the side so he could see.
“What the fuck is the Taj Mahal doing here?” Jack asked.
“Is that weird enough for you?” I asked.
“The Taj Mahal is red in your worlds?” BT asked.
“White,” Jack answered. “But the building itself, it’s identical…the towers in front, the long pool leading to the entry, the domed tops…. Identical.”
“Same. I mean the color; never noticed much about the spires or the pool,” I said. “I guess they’re the same in my world, but I never went or paid much attention to the pictures.”
Truden was talking to a few of his officers before he made it down to our truck.
“They’re in there,” he said.
“Now what?” Jack asked.
“Well, I wish I had a few tanks and some artillery; I’d bombard it relentlessly from a safe distance. Unfortunately, all we have are two surface-to-air missiles, and I don’t think they’re going to have enough punch. I didn’t think the building was going to be so big. We’re going to have to make these shots count.”
“You realize there’s going to be some sort of defensive measure, right?” I asked.
“Yes, that’s why we’re getting off the road. Going to halve the distance, then we’ll be on foot. We’ll spread out.”
It was as sound a tactic as any. Absolutely fucking sucked that we were going to be prodding for their defenses with live bodies, something that had been employed since the dawn of warfare. Unlike the ride here, the short journey we took on foot was over way too fast. I’d been itching for action, and now I was regretting
that rash it had given me. We were a few hundred yards away, and, as of yet, nothing had happened. Still, it would have been extremely difficult to ignore the palpitations of fear that originated from that building and cascaded over me. And, I suppose, the rest of the people there as well. Some took it in stride, putting on a brave face; others looked like they were in danger of leaving their skin hanging in midair when they took off running for parts unknown.
I had Jack, BT and myself stay near Kalandar, as he seemed to have a presence about him that counteracted the induced anxiety. We were in an extended line, nearly a hundred of us; we couldn’t have been more than twenty yards away and still nothing. I thought for sure whistlers would come pouring out the front or roll up on us from behind. Maybe a thousand zombies would spring up from hidden trenches in the ground, the pool would start spouting bursts of lava, winged angels would attack from the sky. Something. Maybe even one of those shimmers that would take each person away to their own private war…that one terrified me the most. It was always easier to fight for those near you, but to be left alone, abandoned—no. I’ll pass.
What happened next was the least likely scenario. Given a week to come up with all the different things that might have occurred, what actually did happen would have never hit the radar. There we were, slowly advancing, doing our best to quell the anxiety we were all suffering through, when the front door opened and Trip stepped out. I had to fight the urge to run forward—I’m impulsive; I know this to be true, action before decision. Not the best quality, but even my flawed self knew a trap for what it was.
“Come, we must get closer,” Kalandar said. We moved up another twenty feet.
“Ponch!” Trip’s voice rang out strong and true.
“I’m here, Trip.”
He turned his head toward us, but I did not think he could see us.
“Is he blind?” BT asked. “No one told me he was blind.”
“He isn’t. Or wasn’t,” I said. But the way he was looking…at us, but not really. His eyes were unfocused; his head tilted to the side like he was using his hearing to echolocate us.
“Trip, we’re here.” I took a couple of tentative steps forward. It was Jack’s hand on my shoulder that prevented me from going further.
“Whose ‘we’re?’” he asked, warily.
“Me, Jack, and an, um…a different BT, and Kalandar.”
The shift in Trip’s stance would have been tough to miss. His shoulders slumped forward and his legs appeared to wobble some, like he was on the verge of collapse, or like whatever had been propping him up had been removed.
“Didn’t you find the helicopter?” he asked.
“We did; didn’t quite work out the way we’d hoped.” I inadvertently looked over to Truden, who seemed unapologetic. He had done what he thought he needed to do to neutralize a threat.
“Why the helicopter, Trip?” Jack asked. As good a question as any.
“Because of Kalandar. I figured you couldn’t take him.”
“I made him a harness,” BT said.
“You shouldn’t have,” Trip shook his head.
“That’s enough of that,” Kalandar said. I felt myself lifted off the ground by a meaty grasp: Jack kicked and flailed in the fist next to me.
“Lieutenant?” Truden called out. He didn’t know what to do.
“Kalandar, what the hell are you doing?” I struggled against him, but I was stuck fast. In a few strides, we were at the steps to the building. Trip’s opaque eyes tracked us, though they saw nothing, I was sure of that.
“Struggle less,” was all the demon said.
That only made me try to wiggle out more. That was until two of the Overseers, or angels, came out of the building. One stood on either side of Trip. I noticed they each placed a hand on one of his shoulders. The fight drained out of me quick enough.
“I am putting you both down. Do not run; it would not be wise to do so,” Kalandar said as he placed us onto the top step, though he did not join us. “I have done as you asked,” he said.
“What the fuck does that mean?” I asked.
“He’s talking to them.” Jack grasped the situation quicker than I did. No shocker there.
“You have done well, Kalandar,” the angel nearest me said, well, not really said; they weren’t words in the traditional sense. It was a series of discordant sound waves, something like a speeding motorcycle might make as it comes closer and then races past your static location. Somehow, the inner workings of my head were able to translate this foreign noise into something sensible.
“You’re working for them?” I asked. I don’t know why I was so astonished a demon had betrayed us, but I was. We’d been through so much. From my end, at least, I thought we’d forged a bond. Little did I know it was heated with lies and hammered by deceit.
“I work for none but myself.” That seemed to be a point of contention for him.
“I thought we were friends,” BT said. “You saved me; you saved us.”
“He saved us for this,” Jack said, astutely.
“That true?” We’ve all been betrayed before; it seems par for the human condition. But the dropped pit feeling in your stomach, the disbelief, the disappointment…these are things that are difficult to overcome. We all want to believe we’d be self-aware enough to realize it was coming. Yet each time, it’s like a punch in the dark that hits you while you sleep. Nothing you can do at that point to prevent it.
“This world does not exist, Michael,” Kalandar said. “I cannot stay here; none of us can. It was created as a way to collect all wrongs, all error from a multitude of worlds. This place will collapse and fold in on itself, and none will survive except for those that have been given the keys to exit.”
“You trust them to follow through?” I pointed to the angels.
“We have had prior business dealings. As long as the terms are met, there is no reason to believe that the transaction will not be completed,” he said.
“Bullshit. This is just business to you?!” I shouted.
“This makes no sense,” Jack said. “Why not just scoop us up at the cabin? Wouldn’t that have been easier than all this subterfuge and the fighting we’ve gone through? Mike and I could have died a half dozen times between here and there, making all of this null and void.”
“It...” Kalandar paused. “It was important that you come of your own free will. That is how the bargain is struck.”
I was looking for a loophole. “Well, we certainly aren’t volunteering now.” It was too late for that; I knew it, but when all you have to grasp at is straws, you grab one.
“Come,” the angel in front said. Trip looked like all the weed in the world had soured.
“Trip?” I asked as he turned and followed the angels back into the building.
“Do not.” Kalandar turned to Vice Colonel Truden, who was about to take matters into his own hands.
BT was halfway between Truden and us. “Mike?” he asked. What did I tell him? What could I tell him? I had no clue what was going on.
“Don’t come up here,” I told him. That seemed the safest course of action.
“Lieutenant Talbot, do you wish me to fire?” Truden asked.
I looked to Kalandar, Jack, the retreating form of Trip, and the imposing building. “No,” I sighed.
“You sure about that?” Jack asked.
“This right here, this whole thing is the key. We live, we die; we go home or we don’t—all of that happens right here.”
“I agree with you, Mike,” Jack said. “But we are at far from an advantageous position.”
“When’s that stopped us?” I asked.
“I don’t like it when jarheads are right.” He moved a few steps so he was standing next to a large column.
“No matter how this turns out, I wish you no harm,” Kalandar said.
“Says the demon that betrayed us,” Jack replied. If it was meant to rile the other, it had no discernible effect.
Night was coming, along with t
he brewing of a storm. If this was indeed the center, it made sense that soon this place would be overrun with zombies, night runners, whistlers, and a safe bet was Jack’s demon would also make a guest appearance. Tough to say if it would be a cameo or a starring role.
“Vice Colonel, I think sooner rather than later this place is going to be ground zero. I don’t think you and your men should stick around,” I said.
“Run from a fight? No. We will stay and see this through to whatever end may come.”
I nodded. I knew that sentiment; nothing I could say would dissuade him, and part of me was thankful for his company.
“You ready?” Jack asked.
“Were the French ready at the Maginot Line?”
“Horrible example,” he said.
“Apropos, I thought.”
“I’m coming.” BT chugged up the stairs.
Again, I was happy not to be alone. It wasn’t so much about misery loving company; it was more a sharing of the scared-shitlessness. Does that make sense? That somehow fear can be divided up among the participants sort of thing, like hefting the corners of a coffin. In a haunted house alone, you can quickly drive yourself into a frenzy of anxiety and panic; with another, you can share, dispel, sometimes laugh off the bumps in the night. Of course, fear can be contagious, too. You could be okay with the whole thing and your buddy could say something just right that freaks you out and sticks. Fuck, what do I know? Maybe it’s more like the herd mentality of zebras. If there’s a thousand of you, the odds you’re going to be the one dragged down by a lion are significantly reduced. Don’t need to be the fastest—just faster than the one next to you.
“What are we doing?” I asked as we stood upon the threshold.
Kalandar walked past the stunned looks of Truden’s men, who were doing little besides giving him a wide berth.
“You don’t want to stay and watch the festivities? Maybe see what happens to us?” I called to his back. Maybe he hesitated, might have been wishful thinking on my part. He didn’t rethink his stance or even turn around. “I hope they do to you what you did to us. It’s called Karma!” I shouted.