The Land Beyond All Dreams

by Bryan Fields

  Thirteen came back in, peering at me from under his hat brim. “Change your mind on the toys?”

  I nodded. “Could be useful. Are these batteries safe?”

  “Inert until engaged, then a ten-year half-life on the shelf. Slide the lever on the top sideways to engage the unit. Just don’t stick your fingers in the contact recesses.”

  I opened the case and pulled the operations manual out of its pocket on the bottom of the lid. Sure enough, there was an assembly diagram and a lot of tech info. “Mind if I take this?”

  Thirteen smirked. “Go ahead. Not my future you’re screwing with.”

  “Domo, neko-san.” I tucked the manual into the back of my jeans. “Where do we start looking for this artifact?”

  “My room,” he said. “And it’s neko-sama.”

  “Of course it is.” I followed him down the hall.

  Frakking cat.

  His room turned out to be inside a genetics lab, behind two airtight biohazard doors and a positive-pressure airlock. He’d taken over the director’s reference library, lounge, and personal butler robot. The computer system tied into main security, allowing him to watch the entire facility from the comfort of an overstuffed papasan chair.

  I’m not sure what I expected he would have in the way of cat toys, er, decorations, but his overwhelming preference was for puzzle boxes and logic toys. Dozens of them sat on monitors, shelves, open desk space, and roomy spots on the bookcases. The butler was another Lovecraft droid, armed with feather dusters and a toilet brush.

  The original owner’s family photos and school degrees were gone, replaced by photos of various cats, otters, and raccoons, as well as one large dog that appeared to be mix of German Shepard and blue merle Australian Cattle Dog. Several had medals attached to their frames. All of them had dates of death or were listed as MIA.

  Thirteen vanished into a ventilation duct about eight inches across, so I took a moment to look through the library. Other than a few antiquarian titles, all the books were on EMP-shielded memory cards. I found cards holding every work submitted to the Library of Alexandria—the one in the Virginia Commonwealth—divided by decade. The unabridged Encyclopedia Terrestria. An archive covering one hundred and fifty years of Ecce Feles, the premier chronicle of sapient feline arts and culture.

  Thirteen emerged from the duct carrying a velvet bag. He jumped up on his desk and tossed the bag to me. “If this isn’t it, I don’t know what it could be.”

  I opened the bag, and pulled out the unicorn horn I’d cut from Smith’s forehead. “What the hell?”

  “You gave it to me, remember? I brought it home and put it in my art collection.”

  “Yeah.” I sat down, twirling the horn between my fingers. Why would Thain want it? It was out of power, and he had no living subjects to juice it up with. Besides, as a dead guy, he’s immune to poison and disease already. The one thing he didn’t have to worry about was his court trying to kill him.

  And just like that, I started smiling.

  I looked up at Thirteen. “What powers this facility? How much juice can it put out?”

  The cat scratched his ear, pondering. “Not my area. Main power comes from a fusion reactor two levels down. The maintenance systems have been able to keep it running, but power output is less than twenty percent of what it should be. Solar can add another fifteen to twenty, depending on cloud cover. Is that enough for your plan?”

  “Maybe. How long can the plant sustain the turrets at full firepower?”

  He shook his head. “Not long. The defense systems rely on high-output capacitors recharged over time by the main plant. They were never intended for sustained combat.”

  “We’ll probably need the turrets to plow the road, so best we leave them alone.” I got up and headed for the door. “Let’s start with those fusion batteries.”

  Back in the armory, I broke two more laser miniguns out of storage and field-stripped their power feeds. Thankfully, the armory was well-stocked with tools and duct tape. I put the three backpacks side by side and started reworking the power leads so one trigger assembly would output all six batteries into the Unicorn horn.

  Easy in theory, but the trigger had to be connected to a power transfer assembly capable of standing up to the needed level of current. Every minigun had the required parts, but getting them out took a few hours. And no, I’m not an electrical engineer or an expert on energy weapons that haven’t been invented yet. I just…knew how to do it.

  This was the secret of Thirteen’s world—science was easy. Experiments tended to have correct results. Prototypes tended to work as designed the first time. It was as though the universe never asked you to show your work. You still needed to have all the required tools and technology—you couldn’t build a computer out of stone knives and bearskins. Thankfully, everything I needed was right here.

  Including a medical kit.

  While I worked, I kept an eye on Thain’s construction crew. The universe was helping him out, too—he didn’t have any glitches or technical issues slowing him down. By the time I had the batteries loaded into my assembly, his troops were on the final section of their project.

  It looked like a stereotypical dimensional gate from any one of a dozen movies or television shows—a giant circle of metal and stone about the size of the London Eye, with odd runes glowing on the sides of the completed sections. Teams of dead Dragons were flying components from Thain’s world and lifting them into position, where four-armed behemoths and the corpses of fifty-foot-tall giants completed the assembly.

  My first bench test was successful. I set up a full-power run and reached for the trigger assembly, but something stayed my hand. In the monitor, Thain seemed equal parts conductor and air traffic controller, turning hundreds of mindless corpses into a crisp, efficient construction machine. It was terrifying, yet majestic. Awe-inspiring, even. It was also the merest hint of what he was capable of. I flipped the switch to activate the external speakers.

  “Thain…Ingrim, this is David. I’d like to talk.”

  Thain raised his hand and his minions stopped moving. “Certainly. Are you going to make one last heartfelt appeal to my better nature? Try to reach some core of long-forgotten nobility? Will you cry out, ‘Father, there is still good in you,’ and hope my heart softens?”

  I chuckled. “No. I’m going to appeal to your ego. I’ve met evil bastards before, but never an evil genius. Conquering four worlds is damn impressive, and I salute you for it. Yet, you said conquest wasn’t a challenge any more. Why not try building something? Creation is always harder than destruction. Look at this world. It’s just a few years from being a barren rock. You could change that. You want to do something in hardcore mode? Make this planet live again. It would be centuries of challenge, and the people would revere you for it—if you succeed.”

  Thain sighed. “Don’t you ever get tired of being wrong? Your bucolic little vision holds no interest for me. Thank you for playing.” He shook his head and added, “Have you found my artifact?”

  I smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “I think so. It’s just…not easy to get to.”

  “Then you accept my terms?”

  “I accept that I can blast you into dust any time I want, but I can’t stop you from creating infinite new bodies. So, this is the only option I have to save my world. I’ll bring it out to you as soon as I can get to it.”

  He wagged his finger at me. “Don’t try anything clever, my friend. Approach me with ill intent and you will burn.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I swear by those things my people swear binding oaths by, I have no intention or desire to harm you.” I flicked the switch off and watched him return to directing his minions. “Nothing but love for you, brother. In fact, I’m doing you a favor. You’ll see.”

  An hour later, wearing my brand new trench coat, I pressed on the release panel for the outside door. Motors hummed, metal squealed, and the foot-thick outer door parted before me. Cool air rushed past m
e, blowing through the dry grass and carrying half a dozen butterflies out into the desolate canyon.

  The construction workers were arrayed in several neat lines, inert, awaiting orders. Thain’s portal was complete and powered up. Thain was playing with an array of concentric bronze circles orbiting a central axis, while the other end of the portal had to be a few miles off the ground. As he moved the circles, the far end moved closer to the ground.

  The sky was low and close, filled with black clouds and thick layers of soot and dust. I could make out the ground, and for a moment, I thought I was looking at a large expanse of farmland. The portal moved again, and the view became terribly clear.

  The dark rectangles I had taken for farmland were troops. Legions of corpses, standing shoulder to shoulder, hundreds across, thousands deep. Four conquered worlds meant billions of troops. Organizing them in groups of a million would be nice and tidy. They looked like squares on a chessboard, and I could not see the end of them.

  Thank you, Goddess, for convincing me to pee before I came out here.

  Thain finished his adjustments and the portal sank down to ground level. He tucked the bronze assembly under his arm and turned to me. “I hope you aren’t here for another deep and meaningful conversation. I expected you would have my artifact by now. Yet, here you are, and my artifact remains deep in the mountain. Explain yourself.”

  I didn’t have to feign my surprise. “Ah, well, I’m sorry. I guess we picked the wrong thing. We don’t have your insight, you know. This was the only thing we found that looked like it might be what you wanted. I guess we’ll keep looking.” I turned to walk back into the facility.

  “Wait.” Thain walked toward me, holding his hand out. “That was rude of me. Show me what you found.”

  “Glad to.” I reached into my pocket, took out the Unicorn horn, and held it out. As he reached for it, I shouted, “Resurrectio!”

  It wasn’t the coolest magic word in the world, but it was the right one. I needed to know a command to bring someone back to life, and just like that, I did. I tried it out on the butterflies in the bathroom first, though, just to be sure. The skunks I left alone.

  The horn lit up from the inside, bright as burning magnesium, bathing Thain’s chest with a coruscating stream of golden sparks. The stream lifted him off the ground, surrounding him with a blazing golden aurora. From deep in the heart of the glow, Thain howled. Rage, agony, loss, and hopefully soul-searing horror at what he had done.

  The light faded from the horn, and I tucked it away. It was cracked and pocked with holes, but still pulsing with energy. It wouldn’t survive another use. Thankfully, one use had been enough. Thain was alive. Living, breathing…and mortal.

  Thain pushed himself up on his knees, running his hands over his face. As a living man, he was well-built and handsome, with sharp, chiseled features and piercing grey eyes that flashed like storm clouds. Even dirty, naked, and weaponless, he radiated confidence and purpose. He wasn’t just an evil genius—he was an authentic Evil Overlord.

  Too bad he never read the rule about killing your enemy as soon as you get the chance.

  He got to his feet, slow and unsteady, the feel of a living body long forgotten. I used the time to open the flask Thirteen had given me. He wouldn’t tell me what it did, but the label said Cŵn Annwn. The name referred to the dogs of Arawn, lord of the Wild Hunt. In English, it meant Hound of Hell. I closed my eyes and thought about the Empire while I drank it.

  Sweet Goddess… It was battle-joy in a bottle, an ice-cold rush of adrenaline and endorphins. It was the burning thrill of the hunt and the sheer ecstatic savagery of the kill, the glory of knowing I’d been chosen from on high to bestow a righteous ass-kicking on the wretched and despicable.

  Thain was moving in slow motion. I gave him a rabbit punch to the kidney and a jab to the throat, followed by a no-holds-barred haymaker to the solar plexus. Thain’s eyes went wide and he brought his hands up to defend himself. I grabbed his fingers, twisting and bending until I heard bones snap. I smiled. “That’s for crashing my mother’s funeral, bitch.”

  I let him go, stepped back, and gave him a spinning roundhouse kick to the temple. He actually flipped in mid-air before plowing into a broken wall. I pulled him up, got my arm around his neck, and dragged him toward the portal. On the far side, innumerable furry shapes emerged from the shadows, gaining form and substance with each step.

  Cats. Housecats. Hundreds of them, forming a ring around the portal. Waiting.

  I grabbed Thain by the back of the neck and pulled his ear close to my mouth. “Nice knowing you, Ingrim. Rest in pieces.”

  His jaw moved, trying to form words and failing. All he could do was glare as I lifted him over my head and threw him into the portal. He rolled to a stop on the far side, and vanished beneath an avalanche of feline wrath. Even then, he still couldn’t scream.

  As Thain died, the connection to his world closed. The monstrosities he’d used as laborers collapsed, puppets with their strings cut. Somewhere, hopefully, the dead of four worlds could rest at last.

  The Cŵn Annwn was burning itself out, so I headed back toward the main door. As soon as I was clear, Thirteen activated the turrets, blasting both the portal and the corpses of Thain’s laborers into dust. The turrets blazed until their energy cells flatlined, leaving a field of glass-crusted rubble.

  I made my way back to the control room and sat down next to Thirteen. He had two shot glasses poured already, so I set the Unicorn horn on the console and leaned back, savoring the drink. On this planet, all scotch was hundred year-old scotch.

  “The horn wasn’t what he wanted,” I said. “Any other ideas? He’s got me all curious.”

  Thirteen shrugged and downed his scotch. “No idea. There are still some areas I can’t get in to. Might be in one of those.” He refilled our glasses, passing mine back with a nod. I took the glass, and he got very interested in how the turret recharge was going.

  He was lying to me.

  Frakking cat!

  Ah, well. No cat ever gives anyone a straight answer, or so the story goes. Let him have his secrets. I finished my drink and asked, “How soon can we head back to Earth? We have some celebrating to do!”

  He yawned at me and blinked. “Mrowl?”

  “Oh, come on,” I said. “We vanquished the bad guy, avenged your friend, saved three worlds from enslavement beyond death, and allowed your Mother of Cats to do justice on a blasphemer. We have shaken the Pillars of Heaven, my friend, and it is time to let others know the greatness of our deeds! There are tales to be told, songs to be sung, flagons to drain and women to love! You want to sulk like Achilles in his tent, do it later.”

  In my defense, Cŵn Annwn and hard liquor go really well together. I was half a shot from singing karaoke on top of a pool table while wearing a red sequin evening gown. And I’d have made it look good.

  Thirteen capped the bottle. “I’d say you’re ready to travel.” He got to his feet and did a full-body shake. “Don’t forget your fusion battery blueprints.”

  “I’ve got them, thanks.” I stretched and shook my arms out. “What do you want me to do?”

  He held his paw out toward me. “Pull my finger.”

  I touched his paw, and the world vanished.

  Chapter Twenty

  No Fate But What We Make, Take Two

  I woke up to a familiar level of discomfort. Crisp linens, flaccid blanket, pillows that could pass for yoga mats. I had to be in a hospital.

  My left leg felt missing, yet oddly heavy. I tried to look at it, but my field of vision was filled with purple hair. And kissing. Lots of kissing. That was good. If I had to be in a hospital, at least I was on the right world.

  I touched Rose’s cheek and asked, “What’s for sex?” In my defense, I was on some very good drugs and do not personally remember this conversation.

  My beloved Rose, being the kind and loving soul she is, took out her camera. “You are so stoned! I can’t wait to show you this wh
en the drugs wear off.”

  Word of advice—if you ever have to go under liquid valium, confiscate everyone’s phones first.

  A few hours later, I woke up with a clear head and a throbbing pain in my left leg. Judging from the wrapping and walking cast, I’d managed to break it somehow. I also had a nice collection of lacerations on my left arm and the side of my face.

  Rose was in the chair next the bed, watching a financial market report with the rapturous obsession of a teenage boy viewing his girlfriend’s breasts for the first time. I left her be and rang for the nurse.

  I cooperated while she took my vitals and asked how much pain I was in. “Seven” was a good answer, earning me a refill on my morphine drip. Before it could kick in, I asked, “What happened to me, and how long have I been here?”

  “You’re lucky to be alive. You were picked up by a freak tornado and dropped a few miles away. A couple walking their dogs found you half-wrapped around a tree. You either hit it or fell out of it, but either way you were unconscious for half a day at least.”

  “Was there a cat nearby? I remember seeing a cat.”

  The nurse shook her head. “Not that I know of. Your doctor will be coming by before long, so order some food and try to get some sleep.” She tucked my chart away and left, pulling the door closed behind her.

  Rose muted the TV for a commercial. “No, there’s been no sign of that damn cat.” She handed me the menu and said, “When you call in the order, get me three of those smothered burritos. Then you’re going to tell me where you were and what happened.”

  “Can you fix my leg?”

  She shook her head. “Not here. It would be noticed. Wait until we get home. Now, you were going to order food.”

  The room door opened. Audrey and Mom walked in, carrying bags of fast food. Mom said, “Hello, Dorothy, glad to see you back in Kansas. We thought we should rescue you from hospital food.”

  For a moment, I blamed the painkillers for making me see things. That lasted until Mom hugged me and pressed a guacamole bacon cheeseburger into my hand. At her touch, a totally new timeline appeared in my mind. The life I’d lived had never happened, though I still remembered it. Every memory I had of my entire life split, one version the original, one version where Mom wasn’t smoking. No cancer diagnosis. No long decline.