"Welcome to my city," the face continued, "and your prison. Unlike what you have forced me to endure in the past, this place will not be uncomfortable for you very much longer. It will be your home before long. Will you like that, Valry?"
Suddenly, she was being roughly handled, placed in a sitting position facing the mob of red-eyed demons. If there was an advantage to the hateful new sight she possessed, it was in slowly being able to piece together the dim surroundings of this hateful place. Slowly, she could make out the delineations of stone and mortar, including a great round slab of concrete she herself was resting on like a prize on a pedestal. In a way, she guessed vaguely, this was exactly what she had become.
"Now, my friends," the horribly attractive voice began, "I would like you to meet a very old acquaintance of mine."
Valry guessed that by the puzzled grunts and howls of the Redeyes that the speaker understood that they were oblivious to what he was saying. His words meant nothing to them, and she sensed that he was delivering his speech solely for her and his own twisted, self-righteous ego.
"By the way," the Resistor asked in mock politeness, "How should I address you this time?"
Again, Valry only stared at her tormenter in silence. Fortunately , pain was a more insistent distraction, so she did not feel enormous fear. Her hideous transformation from human into vampire would in a way provide an outlet for her torment, rather than listen to the ridiculous spiel yet to come from her enemy.
"I give you, my friends, the Anointed One; the Lamb, the I Am of eternity," and with this, hysterical, almost childish laughter escaped the lips of the menacing Resistor.
"She has come to save Mankind -- your enemy, my loyal, stupid little fans. She has come to destroy you, and to usurp my position here on Earth. Oh, don't be deceived. She looks like one of you, now, courtesy of my own ingeniousness, but she is very different. She is infinitely more dangerous. For if she knew she could, she would even try to save you. From me:"
And again, the Resistor broke into a cold, uncontrolled laughter that silenced every gibbering Redeye in the chamber.
The Resistor was standing several feet away from her, and Valry could now make out detail of form. He was human, by all appearances, with an appealing face that was almost beatific to behold. He wore only one piece of clothing; a white body-length robe that turtle-necked around his chin. Aside from his simple beauty, the Resistor did not look terribly frightening; in fact, there was something quite angelic to his demeanor.
Valry thought it was a colorful contrast to the naked, gurgling chimp-like throng of Redeyes the Resistor was now mockly addressing.
"But," the beautiful one continued, "we have no reason to fear her. For the first time ever, the Blessed Shepard is under my domination. The war that began eons ago - that cost me my rightful place among the stars, and cast me to the darkest regions of hell - has now ended with my victory. A new dynasty begins today. A new King has been born!"
Howls of enthusiastic noncomprehension filled the dark halls of the crumbling arena.
"We begin our rule today. This night. We have but one last task before us, and then we can rest. It is important business, and can no longer be prolonged. But first," the Resistor paused melodramatically, "I have a special treat for all of you."
The Resistor stepped over to where Valry was weaving back and forth in painful convulsions. She did not even look up at him when he faced her.
"How does it feel to be the loser, Messiah? For once, you underestimated my power. You are useless on this world; nothing can save it now. You are a criminal here. A criminal of war," the Resistor whispered confidentially to Valry, then rose again to speak to the masses.
"I give you, my friends, your first opportunity of worthiness," the Resistor chuckled, waving casually towards the dying girl, "You must try her case among you, and come to a decision about her punishment. I leave the matter in your wise hands -- for I wash mine of it completely."
The Resistor shrieked with happiness. The noisy vampires listening in dumb, animal joy, also howled their approval.
"When we return from our journey, I shall allow you to exercise your verdict. In the meantime, prepare to leave this place and follow me to glory."
Valry was now close to unconsciousness again. She was only vaguely aware of the gradual quieting of the vast underground arena she was entombed in. But there was still sufficient human blood remaining in her metamorphosizing veins to still chill as the Resistor spoke to her for the last time.
"When you see me again, you will know that your precious tribe is dead. Your father will have been shredded to bits. And your meddling insect friends will be one step closer towards extinction. In the meantime, my fattened and lost little lamb, you will remain here alone. Soon, you will be one of them; starved, pained demons that will never know anything more than the torment of perpetual famishment. No thought, no rest, no hope; only hate and hunger. You will shortly come to understand personally what kind of hell you consigned me to ages ago. And," the Resistor said slowly, "not even your power will save you from that."
He was holding her hand again, the one called Valry. And though no words were spoken between them, no language present, a kind of bond had developed that transcended even thought.
She was as beautiful as before, though this time Zolan noticed, she appeared stronger; no longer was there a panicked, girlish terror in her demeanor. Though she retained the same magnetic attraction which Zolan had first noticed was so irresistible, the Valry standing next to him was a creature that commanded respect and attention. For all the marvel of the transformation, the one thing about Valry that had remained exactly the same as before were her eyes. Still kind, still hauntingly compassionate, and even more, almost loving as she stared at Zolan, Valry's eyes were magical beacons of radiance that he quickly found himself lost in.
Zolan remembered the same cloudy surroundings as before, and he wondered now if, once he awakened, he would be able to recall everything about this place, and its mystical inhabitant. He was now convinced that the experience was much more than a dream. Everything was too clear, too real, and as if he were afraid it might evaporate in another second, Zolan squeezed Valry's hand a little tighter in his. He felt the warm rush of excitement flow through him as the squeeze was reciprocated.
At the moment, there was no need for words. Somehow, both he and Valry had become closer to one another. The revelation was too profound to analyze; it was as if, simply, he had known her all of his life. In her company, he realized that all parts of his past paled into insignificance. Even the recent horrors of the rat attack, and the escape from Earth, disappeared into a wisp of smoke; in a way, he felt as if he would never have to deal with these problems ever again. Perhaps, he wouldn't, Zolan considered in a flaring moment of lucidity: For what if he was going mad?
He stiffened at once. Valry stopped walking and turned to face him.
"No, Zolan, you aren't losing your mind. I promise you." Zolan held her gaze, and relaxed almost immediately. He believed her without question, though he could not say why. She seemed so calm, so self-assured, and as he continued to hold her, this same sense of confidence washed over him as well.
Valry was smiling now. Zolan couldn't help but remember how frightened she had been the last time he had met her. This last thought reminded him of the Rover again, and of the few hours following his last dream of her.
"The Resistor," he blurted out suddenly, "I, uh, think I know what he is."
Valry nodded and closed her eyes. "So do I, Zolan. But you're no longer afraid."
Valry paused, looking deeply into Zolan's eyes. She fought for words.
"Part of me still is; that part of me that is dying and in pain. Part of me knows there is nothing to fear at all. Since we've last met, Zolan, I've grown stronger; I see things with a clarity I didn't have before. The face of evil - the Resistor - is no longer a thing I need to be frightened of. But it is something which must be controlled."
Zolan nodded, not completely understan
ding, but allowing a smile of his own creep over his mouth. He let go of his hands and studied the strange, wavy environment surrounding them both.
"I asked you once before, but you didn't know. Where are we?"
"I would ask you first, Zolan, if you believe in the human spirit. Or the indestructibility of the soul itself."
Zolan shrugged, alternately staring at Valry and the gentle flashing of lights above, below and around where he was standing. "What does that have to do with where we are?"
"Because, this place is not part of the outside world, or anything you would understand, if you didn't first believe that there is more to human existence than living and dying."
"Are you saying that we're dead?" Zolan asked, a little bit of the old cynical PO creeping back into his voice.
Valry laughed at this, and walked over to him. She took his hands in hers again.
"We're very much alive. More so here than anywhere else. You think we're communicating through some simple, mental trick called telepathy. Believe me, this is much more. Here, we are closer than any two human beings could ever be anywhere else."
Zolan cleared his throat awkwardly, and stepped back in embarrassment.
"That, uh, seems...awfully close."
Valry laughed again and just stared at Zolan with clear amusement. Zolan couldn't help but chuckle himself, as he stood there looking into the strange young woman's marvelous eyes. He wanted to ask her so many questions; who she was, where she came from, why she was here. But in this moment near her, all these specifics were rendered unimportant. He was not sure he believed all she had said, but at the same time, he could not come up with a better explanation as to how he had arrived here with her.
Regardless, this too didn't matter; for he was inexplicably content just to be near Valry, without wanting to know anything else about her.
Valry began walking with Zolan again, silently at first, hand in hand. Then:
"I've waited for you for a long time, Zolan. I need your help. Will you help me?" Valry asked.
Zolan stopped again. What did she mean, he wondered. How could she have been waiting for him? She had only last met him for the first time a few hours ago.
But these questions did not verbalize themselves, and he found himself surprised to hear his answer.
"Yes, I'll help you. What do you want me to do?"
Valry turned to face him; this time her face was sad and kind simultaneously. Once again, all fear had disappeared, but a heaviness had replaced it that Zolan could not comprehend.
"You've come from a place far away, Zolan Rzzdik, to a world that is dying. It cannot survive much longer without assistance. There is a great evil here."
"Ah, the Resistor," Zolan said softly. "An Earth word for a creature called Satan; a monster of some kind. But there is no such thing -- and why do you address this evil of yours by that name? You're obviously from a place much different..."
"These things will become clearer to you in time, Zolan. I know of your questions and confusion now. But you must trust me and listen."
The tone of Valry's voice was still gentle and caressing , but it held the unmistakable mark of command at the same time. Zolan nodded, childlike.
"Good," Valry said smiling, obviously pleased with Zolan's compliance. "Yes, you are right. I speak of the Resistor - the one you call Satan. But you are wrong that he does not exist. He does. Evil has many names in the universe, Zolan. Like good, it is a pervasive and eternal force that has always existed. You have recently arrived to a world that is imprisoned by evil. I might add, you came very close to getting yourself killed by one aspect of it just a little while ago."
This time, Zolan's mouth dropped open in astonishment. "You...know about the rats...?" he sputtered.
"And the Birdog," Valry said.
"The what?"
"Have you forgotten the one who rescued you so soon? She would be very disappointed if she knew. I can tell, she's taken quiet a liking to you."
Zolan's mind raced. A Birdog, he repeated to himself several times.
"But how could you have known about that?"
"Because, I'm the one who ordered your rescue."
Zolan stared silently.
"Thank you," he said at last.
Valry smiled that irresistible smile again, and then continued.
"The rats are part of this evil I speak of, Zolan. You must fight it, as you did today."
Zolan was suddenly feeling fatigued. "How?" was all he could manage.
Valry seemed to sympathize with his confusion, and she once again took his hands and squeezed them. Zolan looked into her eyes, then brought his hand up to her cheek. Just for a moment, he thought he saw a flash of the little girl he had first seen earlier, so afraid and begging him to help her.
"What can I do? If you know of the rats, then you know that my ship was destroyed by the storm. I have no weapons, nothing at all. Besides, why am I trying to fight this Resistor anyway? Maybe I should just leave him alone."
"You must fight him for me, Zolan. And for those who need your protection."
"And who might they be?" Zolan asked, feeling more helpless by the second.
"My people. The Resistor wants to murder them."
Zolan was silent at this. People. Other men. "People," Zolan repeated, "Here?"
Valry nodded, beginning to back away from him.
"Alright, what can I do?" Zolan asked. For the first time since this second encounter, Valry looked unsure of herself. She was drawing away from him again, just like before, and very gradually, he could feel himself slipping backwards.
"Find Thalick," Valry yelled across the growing distance of mist and flashing light.
Zolan remembered the name from the first encounter. Thalick was Valry's friend.
"How?"
"The Birdog. Follow the Birdog wherever she takes you. Then you will find Thalick."
"And then what?" Zolan screamed, feeling a rush of wind pulse beneath his feet. It was as if he were now on top of a powerful rocket preparing to blast off.
Valry again appeared puzzled.
"I don't know, Zolan. Not yet," she said quickly, "Find Thalick."
Zolan nodded once more, then watched Valry disappear into blackness.
* * *
A large, wet tongue splashing in his face was enough for Zolan Rzzdik to break free of sleep. The Birdog continued licking him until he was fully awake and growling at her.
"Alright, alright, I'm up," he snapped, pushing the friendly animal's enormous muzzle away from him. As soon as she saw that Zolan was roused, the Birdog left him and attended to six very hungry pups.
Zolan rubbed his eyes, and felt for his battered spectacles on the hard cave floor. He found them considerably more bent than before; small wonder, considering he had managed to lie on them for most of the night.
A very dull form of daylight drifted into the Birddog’s cave, and Zolan crawled to the entrance to stare hopefully out at the sea. He of course realized if the missing Rover had come back to shore, his comwatch would have automatically informed him with any number of loud beeps.
Zolan was not surprised when no Rover appeared on the beach. Well, then, he confessed soberly to himself, that means I'm completely on my own. Zolan quelled back the surge of grief inside of him; the Rover had been more like a brother, or close friend, not simply a mere machine. It had been his fault that the ship was destroyed. Regardless of the fact that the Rover was just a computer, Zolan couldn't shake the guilt that he had, in a very abstract way, murdered a living being - and loyal companion that would have sacrificed itself unhesitatingly for him.
Zolan just sat there on the ledge for awhile, staring out at the dark, cloudy sky. He knew what he had to do today, Rover or no Rover.
He must find Thalick.
There was a momentary temptation to disregard the dream as another product of an overactive and overstrained imagination, but Zolan couldn't quite buy this theory any longer. Valry was too real for him now. Whoever - or
whatever she was - she needed him desperately, and he had given his word to her that he would help. At the moment, Zolan couldn't see that he had any other choice.
If he remained in the cave with the Birdog, he would starve or die of thirst. Also, as he had feared for some time, he would probably go stark raving mad. He now needed to take action, no matter how ridiculous it seemed.
He had been told to follow the Birdog. And he had been told to find Thalick.
Zolan watched the Birdog feed her pups, while she simultaneously washed them with the famous tongue Zolan had earlier been privileged to experience. After she had tucked them into a warm corner, amidst a shallow bundle of dried kelp, Zolan walked over to the Birdog and scratched an ear. Although he realized the creature was exceptionally intelligent, he couldn't help but feel vaguely silly as he spoke.
"Well, where do we go from here?" he asked gruffly.
The Birdog had earlier received her instructions as well. She regarded the man seriously, then walked over to the edge of the cave. Sniffing at the sky, the Birdog then turned around and barked once at Zolan.
Zolan shrugged and approached his furry friend. Patting the sturdy back, he threw his leg over and mounted up. Obviously, the mother Birdog understood exactly what Zolan had asked, and it was the last time Zolan knew he would ever feel silly speaking to her again.
The Birdog took to the air. Zolan clutched on to the fur-clad back, nervously glancing downwards at the beach rising to meet him. For a second, he thought they were going to crash, but after a moment or two the Birdog arced into a slow climb, and circled inland.
Zolan gasped as he stared at the sky opening up before them. The Birdog was clearly perturbed by this new sight, and quickly she came to a running landing on the ceiling of the cliff just above her home.
"Now what in the name of God is that?" Zolan asked no one in particular.
Fingering out to all horizons was an immense slab of black. Zolan was reminded of the bizarre spots against the clouds he had first seen stepping out of his ship, but this enormous entity was the granddaddy of black spots. It looked more like a giant oil slick against the sky, devouring clouds and light as it dribbled slowly toward the direction of the seashore, and points beyond.
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