No sooner had she released hold of the gun than a disheveled, hunched man in a pair of stained overalls appeared with a fire poker in his hand intent on striking Lamb. Before Anna could alert him, she was deafened by the report of O’Malley’s automatic. The assailant screeched, dropped his weapon, and fell to the ground clutching his shattered knee. Lamb turned to the man and punched him several times in the face until he stopped moving.
Lamb wiped his bloody fist on the man’s shirt before returning to O’Malley and placing a hand gently on his back to keep him from moving. Then he accepted Anna’s necktie and tied the wadded handkerchief into place over the priest’s wound.
“Hello, out there,” the voice said. “There’s no need for stealth. We are quite alone here now. That miscreant is the only soul for miles. If you’ve vanquished that fiend, you’ve earned yourself a respite.”
In the center of the room was a low stone table. On the far side of the chamber was a covered well. Along one wall were racks of stout shelves containing dozens of what looked like smooth, metallic, gallon-sized paint cans bearing strange symbols. Each one had numerous sockets of different shapes along the surface. On the wall to the side of the entrance was a table, upon which sat two of the can-like devices. Several oddly-shaped attachments were plugged into the sockets of each.
As she stared at the devices, she was startled as a segmented, antenna-like appliance on one of the kegs bent in her direction, revealing mechanical lenses that focused on her. Another convex attachment bore numerous, small convex protrusions that blinked sporadically in various colors. A third resembled four long, rectangular trumpets, arranged in two pairs side-by-side, also attached to the base by a segmented, antenna-like appliance.
“Good day, miss,” came a staccato monotone from the trumpet-like devices of the canister that was “looking” at her as lights blinked in unison from the convex attachment.
◆
“Hello?” Anna said tentatively to the device.
“Hello,” it replied in the same staccato monotone with corresponding lights. The harsh quality of the sound caused her neck to tense and an uncomfortable sensation to form behind her eyes. “Have you dispatched Billy?”
“If you mean the man who attacked us,” Anna replied guardedly, “I do not believe that he is dead.” She shone the flashlight about the room.
“There is a light switch to your right,” the voice said.
Anna flipped the switch, and the chamber was revealed. She could see now that the table was stained with blood. There was a trail of red leading to and over the lip of the well. The “paint cans” on the shelf appeared identical except for one, which had a different arrangement of sockets.
The device that was “speaking” to her sat on its table next to another one, but the latter had only the convex attachment plugged in, and no lights flashed. On the other side of the communicative container was a chessboard where a game had been in progress. The black player, whose pieces were nearest the device, was winning. There was a chair on the other side of the board, possibly where their attacker, Billy, had been the white player.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to be my opponent now,” the voice said. “If you would reset the board, we can begin anew.” At that moment, Lamb entered the chamber, followed by O’Malley.
“By all that’s holy,” the priest said, covering his mouth and nose as he looked over the bloody table. Anna had not noticed the smell of the place, but seeing the father’s reaction brought it to her attention and she withdrew a handkerchief from her purse.
“That smells like embalming fluid,” Lamb said. “But whoever was doing the work must have botched it.” Then he noticed the well. “I bet he dropped his failures in there.”
“Actually,” the staccato voice said, “the Junazhi are most adroit in the surgical arts.” Lamb jumped, and O’Malley backed into and fell over the chair at the sound of the voice. “But you are correct. They dissected their subjects expertly, and discarded those deemed inadequate to their interests in the well.” It paused. “I imagine that I should be grateful to the Junazhi for not providing me with olfactory facilities.”
“You,” Anna said with a pause, “are human?”
“Of course,” the voice said. Then it added, “Please forgive my lack of manners. You have no idea who I am. My name is Ambrose Gwinnett Bierce, and I’m a writer for William Randolph Hearst’s newspapers.”
“Ambrose Bierce?” Lamb said with disbelief. “He was killed in Mexico fifteen years ago! Murdered by Pancho Villa!”
“Poppycock,” Bierce said flatly. “The Junazhi caught me and brought me here just yesterday.”
“Bierce’s body was never found,” O’Malley said.
“And it still hasn’t been,” Lamb replied. He started looking around for wires leading out of the room. “The walls are too thick, and we’re underground here, so it can’t be a wireless signal. Where are you transmitting from?”
“You confound me,” Bierce said. “I am present here on the table next to Kovacs.”
“Meyer Kovacs?” Anna said with suspicion.
“Why yes,” the voice said. “Are you acquainted?”
“I am renting his house,” Anna replied. “He also disappeared. In 1916.”
“So where, and when, do we find ourselves now?”
“Today is Tuesday, July 16, 1929,” O’Malley said, and reached into his pocket for the stub of his train ticket. Anna guided his hand over so the paper was in front of the lens attachment. “You are outside of Chatham, New York on the estate of a Dr. Martin Langford.
“Some kind of barbaric surgery was done here,” Lamb said, examining the table. “There’s no way anyone could have survived. Unless this blood came from several people.”
“While the Junazhi do appear to be barbaric in their methods,” Bierce said, “their subjects do not suffer. I have witnessed many such procedures. And if what you say is true, and I have been in this state for fifteen years, our minds have been sustained within these devices without any kind of maintenance for quite some time.”
◆
“What do you mean ‘our minds’?!” Lamb asked with surprise.
“Almost all of these devices contain extracted brains,” Bierce replied in his staccato monotone.
“And they’re human?” O’Malley said.
“Most of them,” Bierce said. “The one on the lower shelf with the additional sockets is something else.”
“And they are all ‘alive’?” Anna asked.
“Yes, though Kovacs here has been inert since the procedure, and Teplow has been unresponsive.”
“Brian Teplow,” Anna asked.
“Yes, I believe that is how he was introduced.”
“Where is he?” Lamb demanded.
“He is in the device on the right side on the middle shelf.” O’Malley picked up the chair he had fallen over and slumped into it aghast.
Lamb glanced to the rack and noted three of the canisters on the middle shelf. The one on the left was the one with the extra sockets. The one in the middle and the one to the right were identical except for some kind of hieroglyphics etched into the surface. There were three canisters on the lower shelf, as well, and Lamb noted that one was coated in a slimy residue. The other two, which bore no hieroglyphics, were open at the top, and empty.
When Lamb reached forward to swipe a sample of the leaking fluid with his finger, the voice said, “Don’t touch that. It is most unpleasant, if Billy’s reaction was representative.”
Lamb withdrew his hand. “What happened?” he asked.
“There was a flash, and it appeared to burn his skin,” was the response.
“Some kind of electric shock, then,” Lamb conjectured. “And that is what is inside the container?”
“So it would seem,” Anna said.
“You said that Brian Teplow has been unresponsive since,” O’Malley said, then paused to shudder before continuing. “his brain was deposited in that container?”
“T
hat is correct.”
“And when was that?” O’Malley asked.
“It is impossible to measure time accurately in here, but the Junazhi have returned three times since then.”
“The things that did this have come back? ” O’Malley said with alarm.
“Of course,” Bierce said. “This is their covert. They gallivant for some time and return. Billy was installed to maintain their privacy in their absence. Sometimes they return with a new subject.”
“And how long have they been gone?” Anna asked.
“We have played approximately fifty-three games of chess, which is fewer than we usually complete between their visits,” Bierce mused, “but Billy’s skill has improved over time. I expect that they should return soon.”
Lamb returned the canister to the shelf and tentatively lifted the one identified as Brian Teplow. It was noticeably heavier than the other. The container was sealed with no evidence that the top had ever been missing. There were no seams and the entire surface, save for the sockets and the hieroglyphics engraved on the side, was smooth.
“How do we know that Brian is in here,” Lamb said with frustration, “and still alive?”
“You could connect the receptors and try to communicate with him,” Bierce replied, “I’m sure Kovacs won’t mind. But as I said, Teplow has not been responsive since the procedure.”
Lamb placed the canister on the chess board, knocking the pieces aside.
“That was not necessary,” Bierce said.
Lamb examined the attachments on Kovacs’ canister. “Do I simply unplug them and insert them in the corresponding socket?” he asked. “Or is there a switch or something to enable the transfer.”
“Simply remove them from Kovacs and insert them in the appropriate receptacle.”
“Which is the auditory device?” Lamb asked. Bierce guided the doctor in removing the devices from Kovacs and inserting it into Brian’s container. As soon as he connected the first attachment, the convex device, the tension and discomfort that the newcomers had experienced returned, increased significantly. Anna swooned, but caught herself, descended gracefully, and sat on the concrete floor. O’Malley grasped his head in his hands and leaned forward in anguish. Lamb persevered, and when the final convex attachment was connected, the sensations dropped to a tolerable level. One of the lights blinked intermittently.
“What does that light mean?” Lamb asked.
“I believe it means that young Brian’s mind is active,” Bierce replied, “but not conscious. Perhaps he is dreaming.”
“Do we risk waking him up?” Anna asked as she slowly rose to her feet and leaned on the table. “It is said that waking people while dreaming is extremely traumatic.”
“And we have no idea what condition he might be in, in this state,” Lamb agreed.
“So there are six of these containers,” O’Malley said with renewed vigor. “And this-thing, who claims to be famed journalist, Ambrose Bierce-”
“You flatter me, sir,” Bierce said with the same emotionless monotone.
“This thing,” O’Malley continued, “claims that three of them contain preserved and functional human brains, while the other has some kind of unknown being in it?!” He shook his head. “By all that is righteous and just, if these wild assertions are true, we should release these poor souls from immortal torment!”
“That is preposterous,” the staccato monotone and Lamb said in unison.
“If these people-” Lamb started.
“If they can still be considered people,” O’Malley interrupted.
“If these people are truly alive,” Lamb continued, “in some form, then we must study them and learn how this was done!” O’Malley shook his head vigorously. “Think of the medical advancements that could be derived from this research! Millions of lives could be saved with this technology.”
“And what sort of life is it?” O’Malley retorted. “A mind with no physical form? Does that even count as human?” He paused for breath. “And what of that other thing,” he said pointing at the unusually configured canister on the shelf. “With their physical form, humanity and whatever that is are indistinguishable.”
“Would that not be beneficial to human, and interspecies relations?” Bierce asked. “Does is not say in Romans ‘live in harmony with one another. Repay no one evil for evil’?”
“At the very least,” Lamb said, “we need to first determine if there are human minds encased in these cans, and if so, what mental state that they are in.”
“I assure you,” Bierce said, “that there is no sensation of pain. And after the initial adjustment, no feelings of loss or misfortune.”
“Do you still feel your body?” Lamb asked. “It’s called Phantom Limb Syndrome. It was quite common among amputees during the Great War.”
“There will be time for these philosophical discussions later,” Anna interjected. “But right now, we need to determine what to do with Brian Teplow. We clearly can’t take him to his moth-”
“Did you hear that?” O’Malley said after shushing the others.
“I did not hear anything,” Anna replied.
“I heard howling,” O’Malley said, “but it stopped.”
“The Junazhi have returned.”
Chapter 5
July 16, 1929
A palpable feeling of confined dread filled the basement chamber as three semi-transparent beings passed incorporeally through the wall nearest the well before solidifying. They were human-sized, but had long, gnarled, bulbous bodies crowned by a spherical head bearing innumerable stalks that glowed intermittently. They had five pairs of segmented, insect-like legs that ended in dexterous claws with three fingers that extended radially from each leg.
O’Malley recognized them as the things painted on the reliquary box that he had been given in Rome.
The front right leg of one of the things held a metallic wand. The other two beings carried Shane and Cletus, who appeared to be frozen.
At the sight of Anna’s group, the stalks of each of the three new arrivals started to blink in rapid, sporadic, chaotic patterns. To Anna’s surprise, the convex appliance attached to Bierce’s container flashed in a similar manner. They were communicating. Anna, Lamb, and O’Malley stood motionless, mesmerized by the display.
“These are the Junazhi,” Bierce said. “They captured these spies nearby.” The bulbous entities stalks continued to flash as he spoke.
“That man and his dog brought us here,” Lamb said. “What’s happened to them?”
“They have been frozen,” Bierce replied. “Fear not. The Junazhi would not dispatch them outright. They require live brains for the extraction process.”
“You mean that they intend to take their brains and put them in those containers?” O’Malley said.
“That is their quandary,” Bierce said. “They had intended to harvest the minds of these spies, but they find yours’ far more interesting.”
“Our brains, and theirs for that matter,” indicating Shane and Cletus, “are not for them to take. We mean the Junazhi no harm. We just came to bring Brian Teplow home.” At the mention of the name, the Junazhi turned toward Anna. Their stalks flickered more quickly, causing a blinding, almost strobe-like effect.
Suddenly, Lamb opened fire with his pistol at the nearest one. The bullets seemed to pass right through and struck the wall behind it. The lead Junazhi pointed the device at Lamb, and a colorless, but visible cloud was projected from the tip. Lamb froze in place the instant the cloud struck him.
A moment later, O’Malley aimed the relic, which he had retrieved from his valise, and willed a beam at the alien shooter. It came out brilliant orange, and the Junazhi disintegrated. The father pointed his device in the direction of the other two.
“Tell them to release their prisoners and move away,” O’Malley said, keeping his focus, and aim, squarely on the bulbous beings. Bierce’s device flashed a rapid-fire pattern. The beings dropped Shane and Cletus, who fell to the grou
nd and shattered like fine crystal. The dog’s head wobbled across the floor and stopped at Anna’s feet.
◆
The lights of Bierce’s attachment and the stalks flashed rapidly, with most of the flashes coming from Bierce.
Anna was dumbstruck at the sight of the dog’s face at her feet. The large brown eyes were frozen in place and pointed toward her. She stifled a gasp and forced herself to maintain her neutral expression. These Junazhi clearly only understood literal communication with them.
O’Malley was horrified as he glanced at the shards that were clearly pieces of Shane scattered across the concrete floor, and also at the effect the relic had had on the alien. He had willed the beam, but what would happen had been unknown.
“They can be restored,” Bierce’s staccato monotone eventually said. “I have tried to explain to the Junazhi, as I have several times in the past, that human communication is always to be taken literally, but it is a concept that alludes them.”
“Nevertheless, they are skilled surgeons that function in dimensions beyond human understanding, and they assure me that the subjects can be restored to their original state, though their value as experimental subjects has been eliminated.”
“Then tell them to ‘reassemble’ our friends,” O’Malley said, thrusting the relic in the direction of the aliens menacingly. “At once!”
Bierce’s lights flashed and then the stalks of the aliens joined the light show.
◆
Anna jumped with a start. She and Lamb were seated in the chairs. Cletus sat on the floor between them, licking the doctor’s hand. O’Malley stood on Anna’s other side now, pointing the metal device that encased his left hand at the aliens. Several Junazhi faded in and out before them and around the table, but they all appeared identical, so it was unclear to Anna whether they were the same individuals or not.
The Other Realm Page 3