The World Forgot

by Martin Leicht

  But when we come out through the door onto the balcony, suddenly I wish that jumping had been Cole’s plan all along.

  “You’ve got to be flipping kidding me,” I say.

  “You got any better suggestions?” Cole asks as he races to the battery console against the far railing, where he rips off the front panel with one hand. “Mr. Nara, could you?” He is still holding my father.

  “I suppose I could,” Dad says, sliding out of Cole’s arms and doing a pretty weak job of holding himself up as he bends down to inspect the panel’s wiring. After a single moment of consideration, he shifts his gaze across the expanse beyond the balcony. “Although I’m not quite sure I should.”

  The balcony on which we currently find ourselves is a massive covered wooden structure where the Almiri probably had secret tea parties or something. Despite the blast damage to the surrounding lodge, this place has stayed relatively intact. (Good thing, or we’d be toast right now.) Each beam has been carefully engraved, and if I were super into woodcraft—or, you know, if I weren’t in the process of fleeing for my life—I’d probably spend more than a millisecond taking in the intricate details of the wildlife scenes carefully carved into the wood: squirrels climbing trees, wildflowers and bunnies, cute baby deer, that sort of thing.

  Right now, of course, I’m more focused on the goons behind us.

  And, oh yeah, the giant gaping chasm below.

  Because this is not just any artsy-fartsy balcony Cole has lead us to. Oh no. It is, in fact, the base of a chairlift that stretches horizontally across the peaks of two neighboring mountains.

  “Are you kidding me with this crap?” I say to no one in particular. “Why is this a thing? Tell me, why do the Almiri have a ski lift with no safety net just dangling over the edge of Splatter Mountain? Were they kamikaze snowboarding in their spare time?”

  “That’s, uh, a really big drop,” Ducky says as he looks out over the ledge to the slope below.

  Marnie looks too, then glances behind us. I have a feeling she’s thinking the same thing I am: Are we safer attempting to cross a two-hundred-meter drop when there’s a band of angry aliens behind us with ray guns, or might we be wiser to, you know, not do that?

  “We could try to slide down the slope,” Marnie interjects.

  Dad’s still fiddling with the lift’s operating panel. “That’s about as straight a drop down as you could ask for,” he says.

  “Why would you ever ask for that?” I mutter. The drop reminds me of the Death Torpedo waterslide on the boardwalk down the shore. Except instead of merely chafing your thighs and shooting you into a pool with a nose full of water, this one would knock you across an assortment of jagged rocks and leave you a giant jelly smear at the foot of the mountain.

  “All set!” Dad cries, slapping a triumphant hand on the control panel.

  “So,” I say, glancing down the side of the mountain once more, then back to where the Jin’Kai—and our certain doom—quickly approaches. I grab tight hold of the nearest chairlift. “Me first, then?”

  I slide into the chair, and Ducky sits down beside me. At first I’m surprised he’s chosen to plummet to his death next to me and not his girlfriend. But then, of course, I notice that Duck’s skin is ashen gray, and despite the cold, he’s sweating bullets. He probably could’ve sat down next to Dr. Marsden and not have noticed. I try to get ahold of myself, in order to help Ducky get ahold of himself.

  “Ducky,” I say in as soothing a tone as I can muster, while Cole helps my father settle in next to Marnie in the chair behind us. “You can do this, Duck. It’s just a chair. You sit in chairs all the time. All you have to do is sit and not look down.” Ducky nods vacantly and pulls down the front safety rod (like a single strip of metal half a meter from our stomachs is really going to save us in the event of an emergency) and grabs hold of the bar beside him like it’s a limited-edition Jetman figurine. “There you go,” I say. “You can do it.”

  Ducky lets out a whimper.

  “Ye’ll be fine, love!” Marnie shouts from behind us. “Be a brave lad, yeah?”

  And is it just me, or does Ducky sit up just the tiniest bit straighter after that?

  As soon as Dad and Marnie are safely tucked into their seat, Cole dashes to the control panel and smacks the go button. The lift comes to life and starts us with a jolt across the gap. I turn around just in time to see Cole ripping the control panel away from the console and punching it through with his fist, sending sparks flying and assuring that the Jin’Kai can’t simply hit reverse on us. A moment of real commando can-do from Cole.

  “Nice thinking, Cole!” I shout at him.

  “Feel bad for dumping me yet?” he shouts back.

  “Let’s discuss it at a different time, shall we?”

  Ducky moans.

  My feet dangle beneath me as the lift moves rapidly forward, swaying slightly back and forth. Our destination is obscured, and the cable disappears ahead of us into the dark. Ducky’s breathing is raspy, and when I turn to him, I see that he has not followed my instructions at all and is in fact staring directly down at the gaping maw of death.

  “Elvie, I’m not gonna make it,” he says, voice trembling.

  “You’ll be fine, Duck,” I tell him. “Just look ahead.”

  “No.” Ducky shakes his head weakly. “No, I think . . . yeah, I think I’ll pass out now.”

  And before I know it, Ducky has begun sliding out of his seat. His butt’s almost off the bench before I manage to clutch at his jacket.

  “Ducky!” I scream. One hand still tight on his jacket, I release my grip on the bar beside me and slap Ducky’s face with everything I’ve got, to try to rouse him. But his eyes just roll around blankly.

  “I’ll be fine, Elvie,” he mumbles. At this point I’m not even entirely sure he’s conscious. “Just let me pass out for a little whi . . .” His voice trails off and he slides even farther. I grab him with both hands—one wrapped awkwardly around his back and the other clutching the material under his armpit—but he’s far too heavy for me, and apparently he has far too great a death wish. His butt slips right off the seat, and his weight jolts my arms at the sockets and yanks us both full-force into the safety rod.

  Which turns out to be a good thing, since the laser blast fired from behind us zips by directly where my head used to be, and singes the hood of my jacket. Several more shots zip by, all off target, which makes me think we must be far enough into the misty darkness that the baddies can’t see us clearly. But the shots aren’t far enough away to make me not want to totally crap my pants.

  “Help!” I scream as Ducky’s dead weight slips in my weakening grasp. His chin is on the safety rod at the moment, and I might be worried that the thing were cutting into his jugular, if it weren’t currently the only thing holding him up. As for me, my gut’s smashed so hard into the bar that I am this close to puking, but I’m keeping it together because Ducky has saved my ass more times than I can count. I’m a little peeved that this is the moment he decided to let me return the favor, but I suppose we can discuss that later.

  At least the Jin’Kai seem to have ceased firing. Who cares why.

  Suddenly I hear a clanging, and the chair begins to sway as the cable jostles violently. It takes me a long second to ­realize that the movement is not due to Ducky plummeting to his death below me but rather something moving on the cable above. With my grip still as tight as I can get around my bestie, I crane my neck as far as I am able, and to my surprise I see a figure climbing toward me on the cable.

  “Ducky!” I scream. “Ducky, wake up! They’re coming! They’re—”

  I look up again. It is not a Jin’Kai making his way hand over hand across the length of moving cable.

  It’s Marnie.

  Holy shit, that girl’s a badass.

  “Make room!” she orders one second before swooping down to land
beside me, where Ducky was once sitting. Thankfully, I managed to dart my head to the side just a few centimeters, avoiding a boot to the nose. As she squats in the moving chair, Marnie reaches down and manages to find a better purchase on Ducky’s jacket. Together we haul him up, both of us grunting in equal parts exertion and frustration. Ducky is mumbling incoherently, making every attempt to slide out of our grips to his death, but after some tricky maneuvering and arm repositioning, Marnie raises the safety rod and we pull him safely back into the seat. I’ve got him by the feet, his upper body stretched across Marnie’s lap. He looks for all the world like a napping baby.

  “Remind me to murder him later,” I tell Marnie.

  “Not if I get ’im first,” she replies.

  I don’t know if the cable has been jostling this whole time and in my concern for Ducky I simply didn’t notice, but suddenly I am once again aware of lots of tugging and bouncing.

  “Is that the Jin’Kai?” I holler at Marnie over the wind. If she can climb across on that cable, Lord knows those hunks of alien evil can do it too. I wrap my free arm tightly around the bar beside me and do my best to see what’s causing the movement, but the fog here is thick.

  “Probably Cole with yer da’,” Marnie tells me. Sure enough, as soon as she says it, I can make out Cole, moving hand over hand across the cable just like Marnie did. Except that Cole’s got my father hanging around his neck like a kid who’s way too old for a piggyback ride. Dad—to put it mildly—looks freaked. I let out a breath of relief. “The Jin’Kai are comin’ up behind them,” Marnie goes on. “They’ll be on us in minutes.”

  Looks like I sighed a little too soon.

  “What do we—” I start. But Marnie’s too quick for me.

  “I’ve got a plan,” she says, then without any warning pushes Ducky’s full weight into my lap and stands up once more in the chair. We rock and clang and sway, and if Ducky were awake, I’m positive he would full-on motion-sickness-barf right in my face.

  I cling to him more tightly.

  “What are you doing?” I shout up at Marnie.

  But she’s got no time for me. She’s gazing back at Cole and Dad. “Archer!” she shouts. “Gan, catch the chib!” And she pulls a slender knife out from the small of her back. How she kept it hidden from the Almiri this whole time is a mystery for another time—like, say, a time when she’s totally not thinking of doing what I’m pretty sure she’s thinking of doing.

  She tosses the knife to Cole, who—despite the fact that he is clinging from a moving cable with a full-grown man on his back—catches it one-handed.

  “Cut the line!” Marnie shouts at him.

  “Are you crazy?” I scream, eyes bulging.

  She glances down at me. “Ye oughtta lower that safety bar,” she says. Then she glances back at Cole again, apparently with just enough time to save us all from his deathly stupidity. “Behind ye, ye daft bampot!” she screeches. “Cut the line behind ye!”

  Even from here I can hear Cole’s sotto voce “D’oh!”

  I slap down the safety bar and hold on for dear life.

  Whatever type of blade Marnie’s been packing must be the Ginsu’s burlier cousin, because within seconds I hear the thick metal cord above us twang. I feel just the slightest of jerks—the cable beginning to snap.

  As quick as lightning, Marnie squeezes herself back into her seat.

  A second twang! And we jerk again.

  “Donald, love,” Marnie says to the boy in the fetal position between us. Ducky’s eyes flutter open and roll lazily in her direction. “Remember that story ye were gabbing on about in such detail a ways back, to pass the time?” She reaches over to pet his head gently. “The one with the archeologist, carried a whip?”

  He’s waking up. “Um, yeah?” You can practically see him trying to make his way through the brain fog with a lantern.

  Twang!

  “Ye recall that bit in the middle?” Marnie goes on. “With the bridge and the mingin crocodiles?”

  Ducky’s eyes grow slowly but steadily larger, to the point where I think they might expand and take over his entire face. He rouses enough to reach back and grab hold of the arm of the lift chair, easing my burden considerably.

  “Oh, sweet Mama Jama,” Ducky exhales.

  “That’s it, dove,” Marnie coos, leaning back in her seat to watch Cole slicing. She turns back to us. “Hold on ti—”

  That’s when the last cord breaks away, and the cable swings down, and we are immediately flung forward. Behind us I can hear the screams of the Jin’Kai as their end of the cable swings back toward the lodge. It’s a very short-lived relief, since, you know, we’re hurtling toward the side of a mountain at an increasingly alarming speed. I slide in my seat, but the inertia of our swing plus Ducky’s mass keeps us both from falling out.

  I’m going to have to apologize to that safety rod for mocking it earlier.

  As we swing lower and lower, the snowy slope ahead of us comes into focus.

  “Wait fer it!” Marnie calls over the whipping wind. How she can even manage to form words in this chaos is beyond me. “Hold . . .” We’re a few dozen meters from the slope when she releases my buddy the safety rod and kicks off the back of the chair.

  “Now!” she screams.

  I drop below the chair and feel the seat whip over my head.

  For a second it feels like I’m flying, but really what I’m doing is falling sideways, Ducky still clutched to my chest. The snow comes up at us, and I hit it with a whompf! losing hold of Ducky in the process. I hear the impact of the others in the snow as well, but I can’t see them, because I’m busy rolling backward down the slope, head over heels, without any way to get my bearings. I roll around and around and around, until the large tall dark object I’m fast approaching reveals itself to be a giant tree, and I twist to crash back-first into it, which sends another shower of snow down on top of me.

  As I start to lose consciousness, I wonder why I can’t ever find myself running for my life somewhere like the Bahamas.

  Chapter Four

  In Which Hope, Having Been Dashed, Makes a Surprising Reappearance

  When I come to—seconds later? minutes? I find myself still beneath the tree, looking up at the lightly falling snow. I decide that I must not have been out too long. Otherwise someone would have found me.

  Assuming that they aren’t all jelly stains on the mountainside.

  “Dad? Ducky? Cole?” I call out weakly. “Marnie?” I get no response. I manage to sit up, my arms aching from the strain. I can feel what I imagine are some world-class bruises forming already. I look around in the dark, but all I see are the shadows of more trees. I rise slowly, unsure of what’s making me so wobbly: my legs or my head. I wonder if I’m concussed. If that’s the worst that comes out of falling off a kilometer-high ski lift and crashing into a mountain, then I suppose I’ll count myself lucky.

  There’s a shushing sound out in the dark, coming toward me. The dancing shadows are too much for my wonked-out vision to process, and I can’t see who, or what, is moving in. As the shushing grows closer, I am able to determine that the rapid, synchronized footsteps are coming from farther down the slope. And they most definitely don’t belong to my hobbled father or my extremely uncoordinated best friend.

  I make a beeline away from the sound in a straight line, neither up nor down the hill. As soon as I start running, I hear the shushers change course in their pursuit. The snow isn’t terribly deep, but the slope is steep enough that I am continuously losing my footing as I go. Ahead of me is a thick bramble of trees, and I move toward it, hoping to find cover among the pines.

  “There she is!” one of them calls from behind me. In my panic my foot slips out from under me and I tumble, sliding on my ass through the dense tree coverage. I twist and turn in a series of comical contortions to avoid the trunks as best I can, and honestly
I think I’m doing a pretty spectacular job of not smashing to death against an evergreen. I would probably give myself an A+ in Not Smashing, and that’s not even grading on the curve. But I guess I’ve been too concerned about the trees and not enough about huge honking boulders, because suddenly one of those appears in front of me as though out of nowhere, and it’s absolutely too late to move out of its way.

  Well, we had a pretty good run there, Life.

  I brace myself for the inevitable broken bones, praying I will somehow make it through the wreckage. . . .

  And collide with the boulder with a dull thud.

  A dull thud?

  Sure enough, this particular boulder ends up being soft.

  And warm.

  And . . . furry?

  “All right, human scum,” says one of the three Jin’Kai I now find looming over me, ray guns pointed at my noggin. “Stand up, girl. Hands where we can see them.”

  The boulder behind me rumbles, and I smile at the suddenly confused looks on my attackers’ faces. “Okay,” I say. I rise from the ground, hands up over my head, and step to the side. “But before we go any further . . .” I nod toward the rumbling lump behind me. “Have you met my friend Drusilla?”

  With that, the “boulder” rears up on its hind legs, revealing itself to be none other than Lord Byron’s ursine companion, roughly 150 kilograms of bear-hurt. Drusilla is on top of the first Jin’Kai before he knows what’s mauling him—pinning him to the ground and swiping at him with her massive paws.

  The other two Jin’Kai open fire on the bear, and the smell of burned flesh and fur immediately fills my nostrils. I whip my head around to discover several large wounds they’ve opened in Drusilla’s side. “No!” I cry out, throwing myself at one of the bastards. He merely tosses me aside, turning his gun on me.