The Last Protector

by Daniel C. Starr

  "—and instead it's going to make Grand Taupeaquaah the most sensational themeworld ever!” McGinn's nervous energy drove him to pace the room. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.” Jackson waved his hand wearily, and McGinn departed, a triumphant look on his face.

  Jackson sat in silence for nearly a minute. Then he whispered, “Paul, there's such a thing as being too hungry.” With that remark, the recording ended.

  Nalia stared hard at Jape, and for a moment Scrornuck again thought he saw a purplish-white light in her eyes. Just as his hand started moving toward Ol’ Red, she turned away and stared at the ground. “So that's our whole purpose?” she said. “To put on a show for the amusement of these people?"

  Jape stared at the softscroll for a long time before speaking. “I'm sorry, Nalia. I knew this world had been created as a place of entertainment, but I never knew just how far they'd gone..."

  "And our Temple?” she interrupted. “Our rituals, the sacrifices, all just another amusement?” A tear rolled down her cheek and fell into the dust. “A hundred years we've waited for the Guests to come, serving them was our whole purpose, and we were just—just a show!"

  "I'm sorry..."

  "And they killed a million people, burned them up alive. Cold-blooded murderers..."

  "It was over a hundred years ago,” Scrornuck said. “It's all right now."

  "No, it's not!" Nalia threw her purse at Jape's feet. “It's not, it's not, it's not!" Scrornuck held her, trying to calm her down. She pounded her fists on his chest and screamed, “Nothing's all right! How could they do that? Murderers!” Tears streamed down her face as she turned to vent her anger on Jape. “Sixty-one million of your people disappeared? Your world's going to be destroyed? Good! You deserve it!” With that she turned and ran up the hill. Scrornuck stared at Jape and wondered, what now?

  * * * *

  "Room for another up there?” Scrornuck asked.

  Nalia, sitting on the fender of the dead earthmover, nodded silently. Scrornuck hopped up next to her and watched the breeze ripple through the grass. It's almost too beautiful, he thought, as the gentle breezes mussed his hair and the sun warmed his face. After a long silence, he sighed. “I guess the romance is over."

  She said nothing for a long time, and then let out a long, sad sigh of her own. “I don't know. This isn't your fault. But how could they have done that?"

  He shrugged. “They were greedy, they were arrogant, they found a way to get what they thought they wanted."

  She shivered with rage. “All this time, I haven't been dreaming—I've been remembering. Those people dropped that pyro-whatzis from their flying machines, and innocent people burned up. It was murder, plain and simple. Didn't they know that?"

  "They knew. In their minds, they made excuses, but in their hearts they knew it was wrong. That's why they sealed the records."

  "And they made us worship a cartoon for their amusement. That hurts.” She folded her arms in her lap and leaned forward. “I feel so empty, right in here. Spafu is the only god I ever knew. I suppose I should feel better knowing the truth, but I just feel betrayed and empty. And then they didn't even have the decency to tell us when they ran away."

  Gently, he put an arm around her waist. He could feel her drawing ragged breaths, just this side of sobbing. “I had such a good life,” she said, “until you two came along. Now I've got nothing to believe in and people are dying all around."

  "Do you really think we brought this?"

  "Before you came, this world was like the garden in that story you told me. Before the snake came. I feel like you two brought evil into our world."

  "Jape and I didn't teach those soldiers how to kill. We didn't give Tremmlowe those drugs and poisons. And we sure didn't give the Captain that idea about skinning me alive."

  "I guess.” She stared at the ground.

  "Nalia,” he said softly, “we didn't bring evil into this world. It was already here. This world was born in the murder of a million people.” He gently lifted her chin and made her look into his eyes. “The snake's been here all along."

  She sighed softly. “I was happy before you came. Now I'm furious at Jape's world, and I'd give anything to get five minutes with that son-of-a-bitch McGinn..."

  "So would I, but he's been dead for a hundred years. Whatever judgment he deserved, he's already faced. Meanwhile, in a few more days, the streams will cross. And if Jape's ring is still red, his world and yours die. You live together, or you die together."

  "Yeah.” She bit her lip and gazed across the field, watching Jape as he sat outside his tent and sipped coffee. “I think I'd rather we all live."

  They said nothing for another few minutes, watching a few puffy white clouds drift by. Finally Nalia broke the silence. “I'm afraid. I could have killed Jape. I wasn't in control of it—I just saw something in his thoughts, and I wanted it and I wasn't going to let him stop me. What would I have done if you hadn't been there? What am I going to do when we're back in the city, with thousands of other minds around me?” She turned and looked him in the eye, desperation in her voice. “Make me a promise. Tell me you won't leave me alone with this power, not until I know I won't hurt anybody. I know you'll be leaving soon, but please, promise you won't leave me alone with this.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “I need a Protector, too."

  Crap, he thought, I don't know squat about mind reading. He wanted desperately to promise he'd be there for her, forever if she needed him, but it would take a huge leap of faith to believe he could protect her from something he couldn't even perceive.

  "I promise,” he said, taking that leap. “I don't know how I'll do it, but I will. Somehow."

  * * * *

  "Perhaps we're only getting what we deserve,” Jape said sadly, as Scrornuck and Nalia returned to the campfire. “This isn't the only world with a bloody history. My ancestors killed a lot of people building these places. McGinn was the only one who tried to just burn them up, but I've found stories of forced relocation, starvation and disease being used to get the native people out of the developers’ way.” He sighed. “Now we're losing millions of our own people in the timequakes. Maybe it's justice.” He turned wearily to face Nalia. “Can you stand to be around me?"

  She refused to look directly at him. “It's not going to be easy. Your people did a terrible thing to my people. But Scrornuck tells me that if we don't save your world, we can't save mine, and I don't want that. I guess we have to work together, somehow."

  Jape stared at his feet. “I need your help, for the sake of your world, if not for mine. I'll try to stay out of your way."

  "We need to do better than that.” Scrornuck stretched out his hands to Jape and Nalia. “The people who made this world are dead,” he said. “The people they killed to make this world are dead, and the dead can't forgive the dead.” Gently but insistently, he pulled them to their feet, so that they were facing each other. “But the living can forgive the living.” He looked at Nalia. “I ask you: on behalf of the people of your world, can you forgive Jape's people for what they did here?"

  A tear rolled down her cheek. “I'll try."

  He turned to Jape. “And I ask you: speaking for the people of your world, can you acknowledge your ancestors’ guilt, and accept this world's forgiveness?"

  Jape thought for a long time before answering. “Yes."

  Scrornuck slowly placed Nalia's hand in Jape's. “So be it. Let these worlds be at peace.” He released Jape's hand and turned to Nalia. “Feeling any better now?"

  There was a bit of surprise in her voice as she answered. “Yeah."

  He turned to Jape. “And you?"

  The Ranger nodded, shook off his hood, and surveyed the beautiful morning. “I feel like somebody just lifted a huge load off my shoulders."

  "Good.” Scrornuck reached into the pack and came up with three beers. “A toast, then. To forgiving!"

  Jape looked at the longneck lager for a few seconds, and then turned away. “Um, none
for me right now, thanks."

  Scrornuck shrugged, and he and Nalia lifted their bottles. “To forgiving!"

  "To forgiving,” Jape said, toasting with the last of his coffee. “Now let's get to work. There's a world to be saved!"

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  "Dead Presidents Can Be So Persuasive"

  "Hitchhike?” Nalia asked.

  Scrornuck closed up the pack. “Yep, stick out our thumb and pick up a ride."

  Jape looked up from the Traveler. “We need to catch up with Taupeaquaah's army pronto. Lucky for us, the Southern Road is pretty close to major highways in a lot of other worlds, so we should be able to catch a faster ride. Ah, this looks good: Current year 2006—they'll have vehicles. We're right next to Kansas Route 99, and the world has lots of stable connections. Ready?"

  "Let's hit it!” Scrornuck threw the pack over his shoulder, Jape flipped the switch and Khansous shimmered out of existence around them.

  "Welcome to Kansas,” Jape said, “home of sunshine, sunflowers, and lots and lots of wheat."

  Nalia sniffed a chest-high, golden plant. “This is wheat? I've only seen flour in sacks at the store—uh—ahh—” She began sneezing uncontrollably, one nasal explosion after another. “What's—achoo!—going—achoo!—on?"

  Scrornuck pulled her away from the plant, “That's not wheat—it's good old Yellow Kansasian Sneezeweed."

  "And it seems you're allergic to it.” Jape tossed her his handkerchief. “I have the remedy right here.” He held a small injector to her arm. She jumped, more from surprise than discomfort, as the injector hissed. “There,” he said, “give it a minute and you should be just fine."

  "Yeah, I'm starting to feel better already.” She blew her nose and held out the soggy handkerchief. “You want this back?"

  A short, sneeze-free stroll through knee-high wheat brought them to the road. To the north, it stretched off to the horizon, black and straight. To the south, it disappeared over a very slight hill. Seeing no traffic in either direction, Scrornuck pulled off his jacket and sat on the backpack to wait.

  The sun rose higher in the sky, and the temperature rose with it. Scrornuck and Nalia donned their sun-hats, while Jape pulled the hood of his cape over his head and turned the cooling unit to maximum. “Maybe this wasn't such a good idea,” he said. “We've been here what, twenty minutes?"

  "Want to walk?” Scrornuck suggested.

  "Too hot for that. Let's give it another half hour. If we don't get a ride by then, we'll go back to Nalia's world—the walking's easier there."

  Scrornuck grabbed a beer, pulled off his shirt and boots, and stretched out to catch some rays. “Ain't summertime great?"

  "I wish I could do that,” Nalia said.

  "What, have a beer? There's still a few left."

  She wiped the sweat from her forehead. “I wish I could take off some of these hot clothes."

  "Go ahead. It won't bother me at all."

  "Yeah, right. And where am I supposed to change without doing a public strip show?” As well as being flat as a board, the land was utterly devoid of any cover, not even a tree.

  "What's the big deal? You said the woman Acolytes go topless."

  "That's different—it's an observance at the Temple. Respectable women just don't get naked in public!"

  "We'll look the other way,” Jape said gallantly.

  "Speak for yourself,” Scrornuck said, earning a light tap upside the head from Nalia's foot. “Hey, just kidding!"

  "Well, okay.” She looked in her pack and found the server's uniform she'd worn when working at Syb's. “No peeking, now!” She changed quickly, and stretched out on the grass next to Scrornuck. “Is the beer still cold?” she asked. He said nothing, but gently set the bottle down on her stomach. It was plenty cold, and she squealed and jumped when it touched her. “All right,” she growled in mock anger, “you're going to pay for that,” and grabbed for the bottle with both hands. For the next few minutes they wrestled and giggled, each trying to touch the other with the cold bottle, until they decided that wrestling and kissing were more fun than beer.

  Jape frowned briefly. Then, with a sigh, he turned back to watch the road.

  * * * *

  "Hey Jape, look at this!” Scrornuck pointed to his leg, where one strip of wound-repair tape after another was curling up and falling off. “Talk about a strong batch of goo!” The ragged gashes from the dragon attack and the deep cuts from the battles on the island had completely healed, leaving only neat, pink scars. “Think they've changed the formula?” He knew the medical kit made the stuff on demand, according to a formula transmitted from Jape's world, and the recipe was occasionally improved.

  "Could be.” Jape tapped a command into the softscroll. “There's no mention of any update, though."

  "Something's coming!” Scrornuck felt a vibration in the ground and hurriedly pulled on his boots. A moment later, a familiar rumble filled the air, and a quick jump confirmed his suspicions—a line of single headlights approached from the south. “Bikers!” Throwing the Setron over his shoulder, he strode into the middle of the highway as a dozen black-and-chrome motorcycles roared into view. The bikers came to a stop some thirty feet away, not sure what to make of the tall, long-haired guy in the bloodstained red skirt. The standoff lasted half a minute, before the leader of the pack, a tall, wide man in jeans and a black jacket, eased his bike forward.

  "Who the hell are you?” he shouted over the rumble of his engine.

  "Name's Saughblade, Scrornuck Saughblade."

  The biker took a good, long look at Scrornuck before shutting off his engine and getting off his bike. “They call me Big Wolf."

  "My friends and I need a lift.” Scrornuck gestured at Jape and Nalia.

  Jape pulled several pieces of green paper from his purse. “We're prepared to make it worth your while."

  Shaking his head slightly, Big Wolf turned to negotiate with the man who held the money. The remainder of the group took this as their signal to idle forward and park in a neat, tight formation.

  As Jape and the big biker negotiated, Scrornuck wandered around to make small talk with the others and get a good look at their rides. Big Wolf's bike was a work of art in black paint, sparkling chrome and studded leather, but it was no show-bike—the bugs and road grime made that clear.

  "What's with the dress?” one of the bikers demanded. Before Scrornuck could answer, another replied, “Don't you know nothing? It's not a dress, it's a kilt! Hey, man, where's your bagpipes?"

  Scrornuck grinned at the request, for in a way he could satisfy it. “Electric!” he shouted, pulling the Setron from behind his back and ripping out a couple quick tunes. The biker, apparently of Scottish descent, flashed a thumbs-up.

  "Hey, stop torturing those cats for a minute,” Jape shouted, “I can't hear myself think!"

  "Loud pipes save lives! You guys made a deal yet?"

  "Yep! Let's get going!"

  Scrornuck closed up the pack, while Nalia put her sandals back on. “So, you're as persuasive as usual?” he asked Jape softly.

  "Nalia helped—I had her stand close to the guy and concentrate on wanting to help us. Don't know if it worked, but there's always the old standby.” He held up a few fifty-dollar bills. “Dead presidents are so persuasive."

  * * * *

  With plenty of help from the dead presidents, Jape persuaded one of the bikers to let Scrornuck ride his bike and carry Nalia on the back. The next twenty minutes were pure heaven. Scrornuck swooped the long, low machine from one side of the lane to another, glancing in the mirror and smiling as Nalia first stiffened from fear, then clung more tightly to his waist and grinned.

  Far too soon, the procession reached a crossroad, and Big Wolf led them into the gravel parking lot outside a run-down wooden building. A sign above the door read:

  JUNCTION PUB

  BEER—BURGERS—BEER—SANDWICHES—BEER—SNACKS—BEER—GAS—BEER

 
CLEAN RESTROOMS—AIR CONDITIONED

  While Jape was in a hurry, he acknowledged the need for solid food, so they went inside for lunch. Scrornuck thought the bar's stoutest offering, an amber brew, seemed to lack any real kick. Still, it was wet, cold and tasty, and he washed down his burger with more than a few of them.

  "Y'know,” Big Wolf said, hoisting his glass, “when I saw you in the middle of the road, I wasn't going to stop. Then I saw those leg braces and figured you had to be crazy..."

  "Leg braces?” Scrornuck asked.

  "Those things.” Big Wolf pointed at the boots. “Figured you wouldn't be able to get out of my way if I didn't stop. I'm surprised you can walk with your legs messed up that bad—"

  Scrornuck's laugh cut him off. “There's nothing wrong with my legs,” he said. “These boots just make ‘em better!” He eyed the bar's ceiling, a peaked roof about twenty-five feet high supported by a framework of rough-hewn logs. “Let me show you something—can I see your knife for a second?"

  With a puzzled look, Big Wolf handed over a richly engraved blade with a pearl handle. Scrornuck flung the knife upward, sticking it into the highest part of the ceiling. “Think any of your guys could shinny up there and get it?"

  "Hey, Monkey-man!” Big Wolf called, “Get moving!” A tall, gangly biker climbed atop the table and jumped. Grabbing the lowest part of the roof supports, he pulled himself up and started working his way toward the knife.

  "Twenty bucks says I'll get there first,” Scrornuck said.

  "You? You're on!"

  When Monkey-man was just a few feet shy of his objective, Scrornuck stood, and gently triggered the boots. He sailed upward, his hand closing on the knife seconds before the biker reached it. Big Wolf struggled without success to hide his surprise as Scrornuck handed him the knife and he handed Scrornuck a twenty. “Where the hell did you find those things?"

  "A pleasant little tourist trap called Kurzitskogorsk-Seven,” Scrornuck replied, waving the twenty at the barmaid. “It's a bit of a story, but since you just bought the next round, I guess there's time."