by Boyd Brent
“Was that your point?” Goliath grabbed hold of Adler's lower jaw and held it in place. “As much admiration as I have for this biological ancestor of mine … he's proving a mite troublesome.”
“Troublesome? The man is a monster.”
“Now, hold on just a second. It's true he is not endowed with your large empathic cojones, but his DNA is strong – strong enough to influence the usurper of humanity.”
“You're no usurper. Not while I have still have breath.”
“As I have pointed out, your last breath is an inevitability, son. And I will only permit you to ride roughshod and cause mischief so far. I cannot and will not let you terminate the Colonel. Once you make it through that portal upstairs, I too will have access to that point in time. I will locate the Colonel before you do. I will advise him of your intentions. I will supplement his already capable band of men with a contingent of vessels one-hundred strong. You will not get anywhere near him. Not without dying. The alternative is that you go elsewhere, and elsewhere you must die. So this is what I propose: return home with me to Goliath. Help me prepare for my audience with the Architects. Help me to understand what it is to be empathic. All I'm asking is that you to help me to become a more rounded being. Hell, you'd be doing the universe a favour.”
David glanced at the chicken wire.
“You and I are opposing sides of the same coin – a coin that the Architects tossed in the air at the creation of carbon life. That coin will land when only one of us survives. I am immortal. You are not. It would therefore appear that that coin is loaded in my favour. Which suggests that the Architects are looking forward to meeting me, not you. So what do you say? You ready to do the right thing? Prove your empathic credentials? Help a fella out?”
As the chicken wire carved a path through Adler's neck, David could have sworn he saw relief in his eyes.
Forty seven
David stepped out of the room dressed in the dead guard's uniform. The jacket was too large and the trousers too short, and both had damp patches of blood. David walked to the end of the corridor and went up the corkscrew staircase. In the corridor at the top a man walked briskly and read from a sheet of A4 paper. David passed this man and looked down the corridor that led into the lobby. Young Nazis were still ferrying boxes from offices. “We should burn this building to the ground … with every single one of them still inside it.”
“Their days are numbered, David. And you would risk destroying valuable evidence. Our energies are best deployed elsewhere.”
“Yes, they are.” David turned to his right and walked through a door marked 'fire escape'. He climbed five flights to the top and paused at the bottom of another, narrower flight, that led to the roof of 2 Pomorska Street. An alarm sounded below.
“They have discovered Adler,” said Gull. “I know the precise location of the portal. May I assume control? It would appear that time is of the essence.” Feet clambered up from below and a voice barked, “Quick! Quick!”
“Knock yourself out, Gull.”
When the Gestapo men emerged onto the roof, Gull was over on the other side, perched on the edge, a six-storey drop to the ground below. One amongst them raised his pistol and cried, “Halt!” Gull regarded him with the whites of his eyes, and then stepped forwards off the edge …
Forty eight
Utah, USA, 1851
A wagon train lay ransacked and silent under a sweltering sky, seven wagons turned in upon themselves. The front three had fallen upon their sides, the back four were still upright, and the horses that pulled them into the shape of a question mark stolen. The bodies of men and boys peppered the site like dead things tossed at random. The lucky ones had been hacked to pieces in a frenzy of war chants, while the not-so-lucky ones were propped against wagons with their genitals stuffed in their mouths – vending machines for the buzzards. These outsized and ill-tempered birds scampered about like early arrivals at a closing-down sale.
Amid this carnage, an old man was buried up to his neck in the dirt, his face set towards the rising sun and his mouth open wide as though in danger of drowning in the ocean that in prehistoric times had filled that valley. The old man's face was red and blistered, and his eyes too dry to blink. He was loath to look upon this scene of slaughter, but loath to look away for fear of losing sight of his fellow man forever. He had not cried in more than fifty years, but he cried now and he asked God for forgiveness. The man began to recount his sins, which he believed were many, but in truth he was a good man. Likewise he had never asked his Lord for miracles, but he asked now.
Not long after, a man fell to Earth out of the sun, or appeared to. He landed stark naked on that parched and dusty basin not three metres away. He lay on his back with his knees and face twisted towards the old man. His eyes were closed and his dark locks and bushy beard obscured his face. The old man began to laugh, but by so doing his chest was constricted by the earth. He made an effort to quiet his breathing and murmured, “Christ,” and “insane” and “Oh, Lord.”
David opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings. He blinked and looked and blinked again … the old man came into focus. “Gull … why… why is this man so short?” The man whooped from the back of his throat. David raised himself up on one arm. “Gull? Damn it. Answer me.” Gull did not answer, but the old man did, as best he could for a man with no teeth and little space to lower his chin. “Either you are a sprite born of this maddening heat … or you are Christ Hisself. Whichever, it makes no matter. I wouldn't know how to console either.”
“Gull!”
The old man gazed across the valley's floor, strewn with the bodies of his companions. “My name is Ted. Take a look for yourself … I'm the only one they left alive.”
David got unsteadily to his feet. The stench of slowly roasting human flesh ascended his nostrils like smelling salts. He staggered backwards, tripped over an open suitcase and fell on his ass inside it. Behind him a buzzard flapped its great wings, and dust from the valley's floor wafted over both men. David looked at the old man and began to shake his head as he registered his plight. He climbed out of the suitcase and crawled close enough to provide him shade. Ted's gaze crept slowly up this vision of a naked Christ, and when he reached his face he started to breathe again. “I know what you're thinking,” said David. “But I'm not Him.”
“Well, whoever you are … I thank you kindly for the shade.”
David began to claw at the dirt about the man's neck. “I'm just a traveller … a traveller like you.”
“What do they call you?”
“David.”
“David?”
“That's right.”
“Well, that being the case, I don't suppose I could trouble you to fetch me some water? I am a mite thirsty, David.” David stopped clawing at the dirt. Ted motioned with his chin to a covered wagon to his right. “There's a canteen in there.” David glanced to his left. The wagon's top had been torn open, and it flapped gently in the breeze. A man hung off the back, his fingers touching the dirt as though he'd been searching for something in it. David placed his head in his hand, squeezed his temples. “Who did this?”
“Apaches.”
“Apaches?”
“Indians.”
“Natives to this land?”
“That don't excuse it.”
“No, it doesn't. When?”
“Three or four hours since they left. ”
“You think they'll be coming back?”
“Coming back? They done took anything worth taking. Why would they come back?”
Sometime later, Ted sat at the rear of a wagon. He was propped against a corner in the shade, his skinny legs dangling from the back. He took a swig from the canteen and watched David move amongst the dead. He was looking for a man of similar size whose clothes were not too badly hacked and bloodied. “If you don't mind my saying, you look like a man who has done this before,” said Ted.
“All the time …”
“Well, I can't say I'm s
urprised they don't got clothes up there.”
“Up where?”
“You tell me. Wherever you fell from.”
David glanced at him over his shoulder. “You'd be surprised what they have up there.”
Ted swallowed and his Adam's apple jerked down inside his grizzled neck. “I've seen those marks on your hands … front and back … just like you'd been …”
“I have been. But I'm not Him.”
“So you keep sayin'. Was it Indians?”
“No. It was Romans.”
“I take it you are pullin' an old man's leg.” David knelt before the corpse of a man with an arrow through his left eye. “That there was Pete McIvor,” said Ted. “He was the first to raise the alarm about the heathen. And the first to die for his trouble. A good man. One might say an original thinker.”
“A relation of yours?”
“No. He was no kin of mine. My kin reside in California, which is where this wagon train was headed.” David took McIvor's red cotton shirt and blue jeans and put them on, then took the boots and put them on also. Ted continued, “Peter's hat is just there … by that rock.” David picked it up and put it on, pulled down the wide brim to shield his eyes. He raised his hands to his face and clenched his fists as though about to strike someone. He felt his heart beat faster as it pumped the strength of several madmen into his veins. He looked directly into the sun. “If you can hear me and if this is your doing, Gull, I appreciate it.” He turned to Ted. “You have a shovel?”
“You mean to bury them?”
“I mean to bury them.”
“When the sun goes down?”
“Now.”
By the time David had filled in the last grave, the sun was peeking over the mountains to the east. Ted had a fire going, and over it a snake roasted on a spit. David took off his hat and sat beside him on the ground. Ted looked at him. “Worked flat out in the sun all day. It doesn't appear to have tired you one bit.”
“I take my energy from it.”
“From the sun? You mean like a flower?”
“That's right. Only not as fragrant.”
“Well, you got that right. Not nearly as fragrant!” Ted thumped David on his back with a flat palm. “Damn! What you made of? Steel. It's no wonder you survived that fall. Just where was it you said you fell from again?”
David looked into the old man's eyes. He smiled and said, “Poland.”
“Poland? The Poland over in Europe?”
“That's right.”
“That would sure be some magic trick. Yessir. If that were true that would be a magic trick to beat 'em all.”
“You pulled quite a trick yourself.”
“Come again?”
“They left you alive.”
“Hell, nothing magic about that. I offered no resistance. I am of no use, old as I am. They took the womenfolk and children.” Ted crossed himself. “God help 'em. I imagine the heathen just got back from a raid into Mexico. Had with them a score of slaves, young men mostly, and other plunder. Ain't never seen the likes of them before … descended upon us like hordes straight out of hell. Painted and yellin' like banshees … bodies and horses all festooned with human body parts. Hope you never have to see the like.”
“Where are we, Ted?”
“Where are we? We're in Utah Territory.”
“What year is it?”
“What year is it? It is the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and fifty-one. You sure you're real? Not just a part of a dying man's madness?”
David didn't answer.
“Hell.” Ted hawked up a mouthful of phlegm and spat it onto the parched and dusty ground. A lizard darted from beneath a rock and licked the spot, then vanished just as quickly. “So where you headed, Dave? You mind if I call you that? It was my brother's name.”
“No, I don't mind. I'm looking for someone.”
“This Gull fella?”
“No, but I'll need to find him first.”
“Why? He knows where this other fella is at?”
“That's right.”
“What do he look like? This Gull. If I see him I could tell him you're looking for him.”
“He'll find me, just as soon as he can.”
“He done run off before now?”
“Yes, he has.”
“You married, son?”
“I'd rather you didn't call me son.”
“I don't mean no disrespect by it.”
“I know someone who does.”
“Kin of yours?”
“I sincerely hope not.”
“So you married?”
“No.”
“Fine-looking fella like you? How'd you manage to stay one step ahead of all those suitors?”
“I've just been lucky that way.”
“My wife passed six months back. I guess you never really know how much you'll miss someone … not until they're gone. She passed quiet in her sleep. She told me not to get up to any mischief when she was gone. Said without her to tell me the way of things, I was bound to come a cropper sooner rather than later. The woman was not wrong. My daughter inherited many of her traits, which is why I thought I'd best get myself out to California. Guess I should've known I wasn't going to make it. Not without Margaret to keep me out of trouble.”
“You'll make it.”
“I hate to be the one to break it to you, but we are going nowhere … not without horses. It could be months 'fore any other travellers pass through this valley. It's a couple hundred miles to the nearest town.” He leaned and spat. “Unless you're as strong as a mule and don't mind being hooked up to a wagon like one … I for one will not be leaving this valley.”
Forty nine
The rising sun hung like a celestial yoke over the mountains to the east. In the valley below, the shadow of a man and the wagon he was harnessed to stretched out as tall as a cathedral's spire – a latter-day Samson preparing to pull a covered wagon. Up front sat an old man, a pipe in his mouth, and a look of incredulity on his face. In front of him David was naked except for his hat, over each shoulder a length of rope that he held against his chest. The old man removed the pipe from his mouth and looked at it. “You want we should get this over and done with, son?”
David looked over his shoulder.
“Apologies. I forgot not to call you that,” said Ted.
“Hope you're sitting comfortably back there.”
“I am.”
“I suggest you hold onto something. The way ahead looks bumpy.” David moved forwards and the wagon moved also, its spoked wheels turning faster and faster as David went into a trot. Ted sat up straight and reached for the railing at his side. His eyes opened wide and his pipe fell into his lap. David powered into a sprint, and behind him Ted yelled “Yee haa!” So it was that these two unlikely souls made their way across that valley.
An hour and forty-seven minutes later, the wagon slowed to a halt. Ted was slumped to his left, the brim of his hat pulled down over his eyes. He righted himself, pushed up the brim with his middle finger and regarded the man before him. David had been exposed to direct sunlight for two hours, yet looked like a statue carved from white marble. In an eerie way this made sense, because he stood as still as one. Ted leaned forward on the seat and scratched his deeply lined cheek. “Say … you taking a break? Never did a man deserve one more. I got myself forty winks. I can tell we covered a lot of ground. Son? Sorry, sorry. Dave?” There was no reply. A falcon soared overhead and its shadow crossed the ground at David's feet. Ted muttered something about his wife's extraordinary powers of prediction and climbed down from the seat. He took off his hat and fanned himself as he walked towards David.
David's eyes were closed, his head and shoulders bent forwards in the attitude of someone in the midst of toil. Ted reached out tentatively, as though towards something that might bite, and placed a hand on David's shoulder. He tried to shake him awake, but he felt as solid as he looked. Ted lifted his hand and rubbed his fingers together. “Dry as a bone. N
ot a lick of sweat on you. You turned into stone.” Ted crossed himself.
David's eyes opened slowly. They were as white as snow, and as far as Ted was concerned just as chilling. He took two steps back, leaned forward with his hands on his knees and looked up at those eyes. “What in the name of…?” The statue spoke in David's voice, albeit stripped of emotion.
“Can you hear me? David? Are you there?” Ted straightened his back. “Why, David is your name.”
“Who are you?”
“Ted.”
“Hello, Ted. Where is David?”
“Where is David? I'm looking right at him!”
“Of course you are. Excuse me, Ted. I am presently unable to move or see, and experiencing some confusion. I hope to have both shortcomings rectified shortly. Until then would you mind answering some questions?”
“Answer you some questions?”
“If you wouldn't mind.”
“I'd like you to answer a question first.”
“Ask it.”
“If you are not Dave, then who or what in the name of all that is holy are you?”
“I am Gull.”
“Dave's friend?”
“Did Dave describe me as such?”
“He did.”
“That is pleasing to hear. Will you answer my questions now?”
“I will.”
“Thank you. Are we in immediate danger?”
Ted cast his gaze about him. “No. We are not in immediate danger.”
“Where are we?”
“Dave asked me that exact same question. We're in Utah Territory.”
“The year?”
“Eighteen hundred and fifty-one.”
“What weapons have we at our disposal?”
“None. The Indians done took 'em all.”
“And how is Dave?”
“Dave's just fine. Just about as strong as an ox. Hell, maybe stronger. He pulled this here wagon and this old man many miles across country.”
“Well, that certainly sounds like the Dave I know. Always ready to offer a helping hand to those in need. Was Dave impersonating a beast of burden when I interrupted him?”