I saw Tony look at me just as I looked up at him. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
We both turned to face the ravine. “I don’t know. Are you thinking the portal is right in front of our faces?”
Carlos stepped to the edge and looked out. “I don’t see anything.”
Ursula picked up a rock and chucked it into the ravine. It sailed a few feet out over the edge before disappearing in a ripple of turbulent air, distorted by its own wake.
“`Tis the old saying, Master Carlos. Plain be thy nose on thy face, yet thee see naught for thy eyes look far and away.”
“I’ll be damned,” said Carlos. “It was right in front of us all this time.”
Tony gave me a hesitant look. “Now what?”
I presented a path over the edge with a sweep of my hand. “No guts, no glory. After you?”
“No,” said Carlos, bumping me aside with a not so gentle nudge. “After me.” He stepped back, gathered speed with a running start and catapulted himself off the edge of the cliff.
You know, it’s a shocking sight, seeing a man leap off the edge of a cliff like that. When Carlos did it, I could feel the flutter in my stomach, imagining for a moment that he had made a grave mistake.
I guess I expected him to disappear the moment his feet left the ground. Instead, I watched his legs kicking in thin air, his arms windmilling as he tried to keep his balance throughout his lofty descent.
It looked clumsy, but I don’t berate him for lack of form. Ursula, bless her heart, let out a scream to wake the undead. I suppose I’d have screamed, too, if it hadn’t happened before he hit bottom.
But it did happen.
Perhaps larger objects take longer to negotiate the portal than smaller ones do. I reckoned it to a kind of standardization effect. Objects of varying weights and mass probably shoot out the other end of the portal at dangerous speeds if not properly calibrated.
In any case, the portal did eventually accept Carlos. Of course, Yammer’s campsite was much too far away for us to know if he made it there safely, or at all.
I stepped back and cleared a path for Tony next. I have to tell you, the man’s got balls. He gave himself a running head start, much the same way Carlos did, only Tony added Olympic flare to his jump. He trotted three full steps before leaping off the edge, tucking his knees to his chest and doing multiple 360 tumbles all the way down into the ravine until the portal finally swallowed him up, as well.
I put my hand out. Ursula took it. “Ready?”
“Aye,” she said, with a thin smile stitched across her lips. “What is it then we say? Alamo?”
“Umm no, hun. It’s Geronimo.”
“Uh, yes. The gremlin.”
“No. That was Gizmo.”
“Art thou sure?”
“Just jump, will you?”
We stepped back, took a running head start and threw ourselves over the edge.
I don’t remember yelling Geronimo, but I do remember the silent shout of reason, scolding me for jumping into a cavernous gulch without consulting my rational side first. Perhaps that’s what made it so fun.
I reveled in the charge of surrendering to the unknown, the intense freefall inciting a riot of emotions from sheer terror to absolute exhilaration. I welcomed the angry rush of wind raking over my body, tugging at my clothes and standing my hair on end. And of course, Ursula, outwardly frightened and giddy at the same time, squeezing my hand so hard, my fingers grew numb.
I doubt we fell more than a few seconds, though it seemed much longer before something incredible happened. The sky around us turned frosty white, and the air thick and gummy. I felt I could chew it.
Gravity eventually abandoned its claim on our bodies, allowing the viscous atmosphere to slow our descent to a gradual stop. Gone was the rush of the wind, the sensation of falling and the fear of certain death awaiting us at the bottom of the gorge.
It was just me and Ursula then, holding hands, suspended in a tempered medium that seemed neither wet nor dry. She looked at me and crooked her brow. “Well?”
Like I knew. “Well what?”
“Hath thee a notion?”
“A notion?”
“Aye. What be thy thoughts? Be we dead?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
“Art thou sure?”
“I don’t remember hitting bottom.”
“Aye.” She looked down at the milky clouds swirling at our feet. “`Tis a quandary, then, is it not?”
“I suppose.” I looked back over my shoulder. “I don’t see Tony or Carlos. You think they made it through okay?”
“One can but hope.”
“Yeah, hope. So, why do you suppose we didn’t make it? You think it’s because we went together? I mean we’re holding––”
I broke our handhold, and the second half of the ride suddenly kicked in. The two of us fell into a blind tumble, whisked away in opposite directions by the swirling clouds that seemed to take individual ownership of our bodies.
The sensation of falling returned, accompanied this time by a side-to-side thrashing as if swishing down a serpentine waterslide while wrapped in wet burlap.
“Ursula!” I screamed, though I knew she couldn’t hear me. I couldn’t even hear myself.
At the bottom of the slide, the ride leveled out. The white sky turned dark again and the viscous air thinned to atmospheric conditions I could once again relate to.
I heard a loud pop and a swishing noise like a wave breaking over the shore. My body thumped along the sandy ground head-over-heels and came to rest at Tony’s feet. I looked up at him, my stupid grin pulling at my cheeks. He looked down at me.
“Lilith?”
“Hey handsome.”
He reached down and helped me to my feet. “You okay?”
“Yeah. You?” I began brushing the sand off my butt when I felt his hand pushing down on my shoulder.
“I’m good,” he said, “but stay down.”
“Why?”
He pointed out over the tops of some thorny shrubs. “That’s Yammer over there. He’s got Jerome tied to a tree.”
“What’s he doing with him?”
“I think he’s about to gut him.”
“We have to stop him!”
I started out from behind the bushes when Tony pulled me back in. “Lilith, no. We should wait on Carlos.”
“Carlos? He hasn’t come through the portal yet?”
“I haven’t seen him.”
“He went before you.”
“I know. By the way, where’s Ursula?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. We separated in the mist. Maybe they’re together.”
“I hope so. I guess if they both––”
“Nooo!” Jerome cried.
Yammer had drawn a charcoal line down the center of his chest with the charred end of stick he pulled from the fire.
“That’s it,” I said. “We can’t wait. I’m going in.”
“No. I’ll go. You stay here.”
Tony unsheathed his bayonet and broke through the thicket, storming Yammer’s campsite in a one-man cavalry charge.
“Stay here, indeed!” I said, though mostly to myself, seeing Tony was already halfway across the clearing. I came out from behind the bushes and started after him.
Yammer heard the commotion and turned to confront us with his charred stick and a stone-flaked knife.
“Who goes there?”
“Me,” said Tony.
“Who the blazers are you?”
“I’m Tony.”
“Who?”
I said, “Tony, he doesn’t know you. You haven’t met him yet. Remember?”
“Oh yeah.” He pointed to Jerome. “I’ve come to get my friend back.”
“Your friend? I ain’t got your friend. I’m alone here, Mister.”
“I’m talking about him.”
Yammer looked back at Jerome, clearly puzzled. “Him?”
“Yes.”
> “But that there’s a driget.”
“I know. You took him from us. I want him back.”
“Na-uh, I don’t think so.” Yammer dropped his stick and raised his stone-flaked knife. “I think you’re gonna have to come take him from me, Mister.”
“Don’t do it,” I said to Tony, “Just pull your gun and shoot him. We’ll get Jerome and be on our way.”
“No,” he said, all macho like. “I can take this old bird.”
“Tony, this old bird has probably been knife fighting for a hundred and fifty years. Just shoot him and be done with it.”
“Shooting people is not the answer. It’s a method of last resort.”
“Oh, is that what they teach you at the police academy? Someone brandishes a knife and you go all West Side Story on him?”
“What?” He took his eyes off Yammer just long enough to tell me what a stupid remark that was.
Yammer, undoubtedly more skilled in street fighting than Tony gave him credit for, took advantage of the diversion by pitching his knife at Tony from five yards out. The blade cut Tony’s hand above the thumb, causing him to drop his bayonet in the sand.
“Now will you shoot him?” I said.
He didn’t answer, but I could see him trying to pull his robe up high enough to draw his sidearm. In the meantime, Yammer reached into his beltline and produced a second, much larger knife. He ratcheted it up over his head and was just about to release it, when I heard a shot ring out.
Tony looked up, stunned, his hand still reaching for his weapon. Yammer fell to the knees and then onto his back. Carlos stepped out from behind the boulders on the other side of the clearing, his gun barrel smoking.
“Amigo! Amigo!” Jerome shouted.
“Shit,” was all Tony could say.
We went up to Yammer. Blood dribbled out the corner of his mouth as he stared unblinking at the starless sky. Tony knelt beside him. “You want us to do anything, old timer?”
“Yeah, I do,” Yammer sputtered.
“What?”
“Send me through the portal `fore I die.”
“He wants to go back in time,” I said, “before Carlos shot him.”
“We can’t do that,” said Carlos. “He’ll just turn around and kill one of us the first chance he gets.”
Tony looked up at me. “What do you think?”
“Hell, what are you asking me for? I’m the one who wanted him shot in the first place.”
“Yeah, but what do you think now?”
“Oh, crap.” I looked at Carlos. He seemed to crowd me into a corner with his hooded eyes. The age thing was definitely catching up with him. “Carlos, the man felt threatened.”
“Threatened?” He walked over to Jerome and cut him free from the tree. “The man tried to kill your husband, and he had every intention on eating Jerome.”
“Please,” said Yammer, and he coughed up another splatter of blood.
Tony said, “Lilith?”
“All right, fine. Let’s pitch his ass through the portal and just hope we never see him again.”
“Where is it?”
I looked around. “I don’t know. Around here somewhere. Start tossing some sand up and watch where it goes.
I squatted down and began scooping up handfuls of sand and spraying it into the air. Tony followed my lead, and after a while, even Jerome joined in. Carlos, wanting nothing to do with it, just stood and watched.
“There.” I said, after noticing an invisible curtain about the size of a car door where the sand went in but didn’t come out. “That’s it. Let’s get him in there, quickly.”
Tony and I hurried back to Yammer. His eyes were closed now. His blood-soaked beard glistened crimson in the glow of firelight. I noticed then the exit wound on his chest. Tony pressed his fingertips to the side of Yammer’s neck. He looked at me and shook his head.
“He’s gone.”
“Yup. Well...” Carlos picked up Tony’s bayonet and handed it to him. “Que sera sera. He had a good run. Now where’s Ursula?”
“We don’t know. We thought she might be with you.”
“Me?”
“Haven’t you see her?”
“No, I haven’t seen her.” He threw his hands up. “I don’t believe it. Ursula’s missing and you two are worried about saving this scumbag’s life?”
“Carlos. It’s not like that. I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. We’ll find her.”
“Suckers,” Jerome said.
I took immediate offence to that. “What did you say, Half-pint?”
He pointed. We turned back and saw that a dozen or more sausage-sized slugs with dragonfly wings had landed on Yammer’s body. They seemed incredibly adept at burrowing under his clothing immediately upon landing. No sooner would one arrive, fold its wings against its slimy body and burrow under, than another would fly in and do the same. Soon, every inch of Yammer’s clothes were boiling with movement, as the slugs slithered and grazed on the soft flesh below.
“Mother of gawd,” said Tony. “What the hell are those?”
“Leachflies!” said Jerome. “They suckers. More come soon.” He pointed at Tony’s wounded hand. “Smell blood. Come for you.”
“We gotta go,” said Carlos. “Through the portal. Now!”
“No!” I said. “Not without Ursula.”
“But the leachflies.”
“I said no!”
Tony said, “You guys go. I’ll find her.”
“How’s that gonna help?” I pointed at the blood dripping from his wound. “You’re a calling card for the little blood-suckers.”
As I said that, one landed on his hand. He swatted it to the ground and stomped on it with the heel of his foot. Even in the soft sand, the damn thing split open, squirting blood in a fantail spray over Carlos’ ankles.
“Gross!” Carlos stepped back and shook his foot. “It popped like a giant ketchup packet.”
“That’s just the beginning. You can’t stay here, Tony. Even if you find Ursula, you’ll only put her in greater danger.”
“So what do we do?”
“We do nothing. You go through the portal. Take Jerome with you. Carlos and I will look for Ursula.”
“No. I don’t like it. I don’t think we should split up. Let’s just move away from here.”
“No. We can’t go too far. Ursula could be anywhere. She could be lying unconscious somewhere, maybe right behind that rock. But the longer you stay here, the more danger you bring to the rest of us.”
Again, a slimy leachfly landed on Tony. This one on his shoulder. It quickly burrowed under his robe and began slinking down his arm and towards his hand.
“Get`em!” Carlos yelled.
Tony balled his fist up and punched his arm where the leach had stopped to sample the nectar. Once again, that awful squishy noise preceded the splatter of blood that oozed through Tony’s robe and down his bicep. Using the robe, he wiped the bug off and shook his arm until it fell out onto the ground.
“Nice,” I said. “See. You have to go. I’m sure the portal will return you somewhere close to the ledge. If we can’t follow you through the portal, we’ll take the long way. In that case, we’ll see you in half a day. One day tops.”
“What if the portal doesn’t drop me off on the ledge?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the other end of the portal was out over the ledge. Remember?”
“So then you fall back into the portal and come out here again. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is I might fall into the ravine and kill myself.”
“Yes, or you might stay here and kill yourself. Now come on. Get going.”
I palmed his shoulders and turned him toward the portal. Another leachfly landed on his back. It tucked its wings against its slimy segmented body and started to burrow down the back of his neck.
I crushed it with the heel of my clenched fist.
“Thanks,” he said, as he wiped the goop off the back of his
head. I’m not sure, but I think I detected a tone of sarcasm in his voice.
“No problem,” I guided him into a slouch and pushed him into the portal. He disappeared in a ripple of turbulent air.
“You’re next,” I told Jerome.
“No.” He reached up and took Carlos’ hand. “I stay with amigo.”
“Uh-uh. Carlos, tell him.”
“I don’t know, Lilith. Why can’t he stay with us?”
“Because Tony might need him.”
“We might need him, too.”
I looked at Jerome. His large stereoscopic eyes stared up at me in unison. They weren’t exactly puppy dog eyes, but something close.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Do you really think you can help us?”
Jerome nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes. I help. Big help. All the time, help.”
“Sure, all the time. You know I’m getting tired of saving your little green butt. Next time we won’t come back for you. Understand?”
“Oh, he understands,” said Carlos. “Don’t you, Jerome?” Jerome just smiled his pointy-toothed grin up at Carlos and blinked. “See. He understands.”
“Good. Now let’s go find Ursula.”
We left the leachflies to feast on Yammer, and started out. We checked all the obvious places, behind boulders, along the tree line bordering the campsite and back in the thorny bushes where Tony and I came out. All the while, we called her name, hoping that if she had blacked out, we might wake her.
After working concentric circles from the campfire outward, I came to the realization that Ursula might not have exited the portal at all. I mentioned it to Carlos, who told me he had considered that same possibility.
“What do we do in that case?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I suppose I could try going back through the portal to flush her out.”
“And if she isn’t there? What then?”
“Carlos, I don’t know what then. You’ve been through a portal just as many times as I have. Maybe sometimes people never come out.”
“Ooh...” He shook his head faintly. “Dominic’s not going to like that.”
“No,” I said, kicking at the ground and drawing small circles in the sand with my toe. “None of us are going to like that very much.”
8 Gone is the Witch Page 21