Sooner Dead

by Mel Odom

  "Scatter?" Hella inspected the cup and found dark liquid. She sniffed at it and decided it was coffee.

  "Scatter's what I call him. His other name—" Stampede waved at the metal man. "Name."

  The metal man uttered a high-pitched squeaking squeal that sounded familiar and made Hella's teeth hurt.

  "That's way too impossible to pronounce. Drink your coffee. You'll feel better."

  Actually Hella was ready to believe she'd never feel good again. "What did he do to me?"

  "May I speak?" The metal man's—Scatter's—dialogue sounded perfect and uninflected.

  "You can now." Stampede grinned at that.

  "I apologize for hurting you. I did not mean to."

  "You did a pretty good job of it."

  "It was unavoidable. Your world is strange to me. I needed to learn where I was. Since you were amenable, I learned from you."

  Hella stared at him. "You didn't learn the word amenable from me. And unless it means 'stupid and naive,' I don't know what it means."

  "It means 'willing.' " Stampede peered out the window "We've read it in books we've shared, so I know you know the word."

  Actually Hella did know the word. "It's not one I use."

  "Scatter pretty much learned everything you knew then he read a few books the Wroths have." Stampede pointed toward the tall stack of books beside Scatter. Some were manuals; others were novels. "That's only part of it. While you were sleeping—"

  "Didn't feel like sleeping to me."

  "—the kids took turns lugging books up and down from the Wroth library."

  "They have a library?"

  "Yep. Surprised me too."

  Twyla Wroth stepped into the room carrying a coffee pot and a plate. "Reading is important. It's all we really have to hang on to our pasts and have a chance at any kind of future. My husband knows—knew—that. Sometimes we write letters for people who are traveling that can't write those letters themselves." She looked at Hella. "I heard your voice. Knew you were awake. You need to eat and get your strength up."

  Hella was surprised to discover she had an appetite. Carefully, head spinning, she eased up the wall. Stampede let her manage on her own, but he stood nearby in case she needed help.

  At the table, she surveyed the bacon, eggs, and pancakes on the plate. She sat in the seat Twyla Wroth indicated. "Thank you. It's been a long time since I had pancakes." She looked at the older woman. "Have you slept?"

  Twyla looked haggard. "Some."

  "You should rest."

  The older woman shook her head. "It's easier staying busy right now. Martin and the older boys are out at the river, getting ready to put in new anchor poles."

  "You blew up the old ones." Scatter volunteered the information happily.

  Hella grimaced. "Sorry about that."

  Twyla waved the apology away. "This won't be the first time that the ferry has been repaired. Or that the Wroths have died defending it." She sipped on her coffee.

  "Your mind is amazing, Hella." Scatter sat in the corner and acted content. "If you had not been here, I might not have been able to learn what I needed to about this world. At least, not as quickly."

  "This world?" Hella bit into a strip of bacon.

  "I am not from this world. I am from another. I am certain of that."

  "You came through one of the ripples the collider created when it exploded."

  Scatter nodded and the movement was very small, very precise. "So Stampede informed me, though I found no mention of that event in the literature that I was given."

  Stampede stood by the fire and took advantage of the warmth. "After the collider exploded and the world turned inside out, printing books wasn't exactly at the top of the list for survival."

  "That is true. Still, the knowledge I have gleaned has been very useful." Scatter looked at Hella. "If I had not been able to link with you, I would have remained lost for a long time. Finding you was like rolling a perfect twenty."

  "A perfect twenty?" Hella savored the salty taste of the bacon and dipped a finger into the molasses that covered the pancakes.

  "On a twenty-sided die, yes." Reaching into the pile of books, Scatter plucked out a volume that had elf warriors and knights on the cover. "I also learned what to do when we're confronted by dragons, though Stampede tells me that will never happen."

  "I didn't think robots fell out of other worlds into this one." Hella tasted the molasses, and the sweet flavor exploded in her mouth.

  "I am not a robot. I am my own person. I am—" Scatter whistle-screeched another long series of notes.

  "A fractoid." Stampede went back to the window.

  "That is Stampede's interpretation of what I am." Scatter nodded. "Given the circumstances and your limited understanding of my nature, I will allow that assessment."

  Hella winced as she chewed. The effort seemed to dislodge the pain that had taken root inside her skull.

  "Do you still have discomfort, Hella?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you enjoy discomfort?"

  "No."

  "Then why do you tolerate it?"

  Hella frowned at the metal man. "It's not like I can just turn it off."

  "Of course you can." Scatter's body broke apart, and he flowed to his feet. When he was once more a single creature, he was already in midstride. "Let me show you." He reached for her head.

  CHAPTER 20

  Hella slapped away Scatter's hand and dodged back. "Stay away from me. Last night was plenty of showing."

  Scatter cocked his head curiously and studied her. "Trust me."

  "No."

  "You would rather endure pain?" Somehow the fractoid managed to convey hurt feelings though his face didn't really express that emotion.

  "Let me finish my breakfast before I pass out again." At least that would be a relief from the agony she was presently enduring, and she would have a full stomach, provided she kept the food down.

  "You will not pass out. I promise. Once you are free of the pain, you can better enjoy your meal."

  Reluctantly Hella submitted herself to Scatter's ministrations.

  "From what Stampede has told me, you are different from most sentient beings in this world." Scatter traced his fingertips across her forehead. Only the gentlest of shocks trailed across her skin. "You have tiny robots within you. Nanobots."

  "Yes. Other people have them." Hella knew that from reading some of the materials she and Stampede had found in their travels and had met a few people who had nanobots that helped mental abilities manifest or maintain their health.

  "These give you a deeper control over your body than most humans have."

  "Yes." Hella hadn't even heard of anyone else with nanobots inside their bodies who could morph their hands into guns or siphon raw materials through their bodies to make gunpowder propellant and bullets.

  "Yet you only use it to make pistols of your hands."

  "That's all I can do."

  Scatter smiled slightly then. "No. You can do much more. You simply have to learn how to master the nanobots. Can you sense what I'm doing?"

  Hella concentrated on the feelings outside her temples and forehead as well as inside. Scatter had set up some kind of pattern, and the nanobots were reacting to it. Within seconds, the headache vanished.

  "I must apologize, Hella. There was damage to your cerebral cortex that I did not know about." Scatter removed his hand.

  "I have brain damage?" The possibility scared Hella. She'd seen people who were brain damaged having seizures that eventually killed them. Most people didn't tolerate brain damaged individuals and left them for the wilderness to prey on. She decided then and there that she wouldn't allow herself to become a threat to Stampede.

  "You did have brain damage. Slight brain damage. But you have brain damage no more. You have healed yourself."

  "I did that?"

  "Yes."

  "How?"

  Scatter picked up one of her arms and indicated a long scratch that ran along her f
orearm. "You healed this."

  The previous night the cut had been deep, had maybe even needed stitches or glue. "I heal quickly. It's just part of the nanobots."

  "You can do more with them." Scatter traced his forefinger along her arm. As soon as his finger touched the scratch, creating a weird shock rhythm, and moved on, only unblemished skin was left behind. "You are limiting what the nanobots can do for you." He turned her arm over to reveal another scratch. "Here. You try to fix this one."

  Hella concentrated, trying to recapture the rhythm Scatter had started with his touch. When she had the rhythm, she was astonished as the scratch instantly healed. "I didn't know that I could do that."

  "That is because you have not totally embraced your nature at this point." Scatter looked at her with kind eyes. "You have pushed your heritage away and denied it."

  "I don't even know what my heritage is." Hella looked at him hopefully.

  "Nor do I." Scatter cocked his head to the side again. "But I do find that I am immensely intrigued. I hope this does not discomfort you."

  At first, Hella didn't know what to say. "I hear them sometimes."

  "Who?"

  "The nanobots."

  "What do they say?"

  Hella shook her head, and the reflex was miraculously without pain. "I don't know. I can't hear them."

  "Maybe you do not want to."

  "Maybe."

  "Do you fear them?"

  "I don't want to lose myself to them."

  "You do not have to."

  "You don't know what it feels like when they take over."

  Scatter regarded her. "They cannot take over your mind, Hella."

  "They do. You just haven't seen it when they're strong inside me."

  "Fascinating." Scatter smiled, and she could tell the effort was genuine. "Obviously this is a conundrum I would like to pursue at some point."

  Hella took back her arm. "Not this morning." She didn't know if she would ever be ready to deal with that. "Where are you from?"

  Scatter reflowed himself so he was suddenly turned one hundred eighty degrees—without turning around. It appeared as if he pulled himself inside out. Hella stared at him.

  Stampede laughed at her astonishment. "Being around him is going to take some getting used to."

  Glancing at Stampede, seeing how the bisonoid stood with his arms cross over his chest, Scatter stood and crossed his arms in an almost perfect imitation.

  Scowling, Stampede unfolded his arms. His nostrils flared and his ears twitched. "Some things are going to take even more getting used to."

  "I perceive that I have done something wrong." Scatter studied Stampede.

  "It isn't polite to mock someone. And it's not very smart either."

  "To mock." Scatter cocked his head. "To fake, to pretend, to simulate, bogus, ersatz." He paused. "I meant no disrespect. I am still learning your way of speaking, and body language appears to have a large amount to do with it. I thought if I stood like you, I might better understand what you were referring to as being difficult to get used to."

  Stamped growled.

  "Weapons and the intent to use or not use them also has a lot to do with the way you communicate. The implied threat of using them can be confusing."

  "I'll take your word for it. I think I make myself very clear." Stampede waved a hand in a hurry-up motion. "Tell Hella about your world."

  Scatter reflowed and faced Hella, looking was appearing to step through his own body as he dropped his arms and walked toward her. "My world is perfect. I would like to go back there now." He smiled hopefully and the innocence in his expression almost broke Hella's heart. "Well, it was almost perfect. Except for the sickness that almost killed everyone."

  "On my world, we used to be flesh and blood. Like you." Scatter gestured to include Hella and the Wroths who had gotten up to listen to the story and have breakfast. "We were on the edge of star travel. Before we did that, though, we wanted to explore our own world. And our minds."

  Hella sat at the table and worked on her second helping of pancakes. Twyla Wroth was generous and appeared grateful for the diversion from the loss she was dealing with.

  "We had developed several devices that helped us perfect our bodies." Scatter smiled a little. "That's how I knew about your nanotech, Hella, though I haven't seen anything quite like it. If we hadn't learned the things we did, we would have died when the sickness came."

  "What kind of sickness?" Stampede's ears flicked to attention. Sickness of any kind was cause for concern.

  "We didn't know." Scatter reflowed himself, turning inside out and walking back toward the window. He held his hands out to the sun, soaking up the solar power he claimed to run on. "Perhaps something escaped in a laboratory before our world became perfect, but not everyone was at peace. Divided into two camps, the groups struggled occasionally for supremacy."

  Hella listened intently but the story was an old one that dated back to copies of the Bible and Koran and Torah she and Stampede had read. Large groups of people never learned to live in harmony—even when that was the professed goal.

  "The disease spread in the form of a flesh-eating bacteria. It was virulent and unstoppable. The decision was made to transfer all survivors into these bodies." Reflowing, Scatter faced them again and tapped his chest.

  One of the Wroth children poked her head up from her sleeping bag. "You had enough bodies for everybody?"

  The sadness on Scatter's face looked hard and alien, but it also looked majestic in a way. "No. There were not enough bodies. The sickness spread too quickly anyway. Even as fast as they worked, the two governments could not transfer everyone in time. At the time of the last viable transfer, there were hundreds of these bodies left. Unused."

  "You were lucky."

  Scatter smiled at the little girl. "I was. I lived. But I lost a great number of friends and family." He reflowed and walked back to the window. "I cannot bear any more loss. I need to get back to my world."

  Silence hung in the room, and it became a cold and uncomfortable environment to Hella.

  Thankfully the little girl wasn't finished with her questions. "How did you fall into our world?"

  "I do not know. The last I remember, I was at home. Then I was here. I fell and then I woke up on the ferry when Hella and Stampede came to my rescue."

  Hella felt guilty about that too. They hadn't been there to rescue Scatter, and he still wasn't free to do as he pleased.

  "You told him he can't go back to his world?" Hella repacked the small kit she'd brought with her when she and Stampede had decided to make the run to the Coyle River.

  "Not exactly."

  Fastening the leather strap that bound the kit, Hella raised her head and looked out the window of the borrowed bedroom. Scatter stood out in the yard in front of the house with the river rushing by at his feet. He looked like a lost child. Sunlight glinted off his metallic skin. "What did you tell him?"

  "That I didn't know how to get him back to where he came from. I told him Pardot might be able to help him with that."

  That was the truth, but it wasn't all of the truth. "No one has ever found any way to get anything back through the ripples."

  "No one has yet." Stampede shifted uneasily.

  "You should have told him. He needs to know. From what he says, he has family back there."

  "I understand that." Stampede heaved a deep sigh. "I just don't need to be the one that tells him."

  "Coward."

  Stampede flattened his ears and wouldn't look at her. "Telling him would be like hurting a child's feelings. And it's not my place. I'm not responsible for him. The 'Chine would have probably chopped him up for salvage by now."

  "Do you think Pardot has anything better in mind for him?"

  Stampede shrugged. "I'll cross that river when I get to it, Red. One thing at a time, you know that. First we get back to our expedition... if Pardot and Trammell and Riley haven't ended up dead somewhere, which wouldn't be good business for us.r />
  "Do you believe everything Scatter told us?" Hella looked around the room to make certain she hadn't forgotten anything. She wore her old jeans, but her blouse was new, a pullover with a loose waist that would be problematic in the brush.

  Stampede scratched under his chin and gazed out at the fractoid. "Yeah, I believe everything he told us. I also believe he hasn't told us everything."

  "I want to tell you again that I'm sorry for your losses, Mrs. Wroth." Hella held the older woman's hands briefly then had to stand her ground as Twyla Wroth leaned in for a quick hug. A lump rose in Hella's throat, and she had to struggle to swallow.

  "I wish you safe travel, girl. Neither mischief nor murder." Twyla gripped Hella's hands tightly. "But whenever you find 'Chine near Wroth's Ferry, do your best to kill them."

  "I will." The promise was easy to make. Hella would do that anyway.

  Twyla released her hands and repeated the request with Stampede. She looked tiny against his bulk.

  Minutes later, with food to tide them over during their walk back, Hella took the lead as they set out. Stampede walked slack and Scatter remained in the middle of them.

  At midday they stopped for a brief rest and to eat. The full heat of the day rolled over the forest, and the humidity even in the shade was atrocious. Hella's clothing was damp enough to stick to her, and she knew Stampede had to be miserable. He was happiest in the winter, when it was cold enough that he blew great jets of steam from his nostrils.

  Scatter wandered around but didn't get out of their sight. He touched the leaves, ran his fingers through a small pool of water, and watched a hawk lazily circling overhead.

  Hella finished the last of her chicken and drank her fill of water. She watched Scatter and thought about what he'd told her about the nanobots. She glanced again at her arm where the cut had been. Even in the bright light of day, no scar remained.

  Checking the inside of her left elbow, she found a scar from a year past. When the wound had happened, she'd seen the inside of her arm, the ligaments and the blood vessels. At the time she thought she would bleed to death because she couldn't get the arterial flow to stop. Finally, though, it had, and it had healed in a short time. That was the first time she and Stampede had recognized she could heal so quickly.