Wild Thing

by L. J. Kendall

  More surprising still, the attack finished after a mere two hours, when the golden light finally winked out. Usually, Godsson's episodes lasted until two or three a.m. And until Sara's dramatic intervention three years before, they always ended with the inmate a worn wreck, collapsing unconscious onto his bunk, or even the floor, as if only sheer willpower had kept him going. But Sara's earlier help had eased Godsson's need to exhaust himself so severely – though that positive change had eroded with each passing year.

  But now, he staggered to the window of his small room, and Harmon saw his eyes meet Sara's. For once, though, Harmon found himself unable to read the expression there. Godsson's eyes then turned to Harmon, and he frowned, clearly thinking dark thoughts.

  For her part, Sara slumped back against the wall, panting hoarsely, as if she had driven herself to her own limits.

  When Harmon looked back at Godsson, he saw the man nod to his ward, as if acknowledging her support; surely not her help? Then he simply turned his back on all his watchers and laid himself on his bunk.

  Harmon went to Sara, who collapsed gratefully forward into his arms, falling asleep almost at once. 'Gentlemen. Ladies. I believe the episode is over for this year. I will put my daughter to bed. If you need me, call.'

  In complete silence, then, he walked between the agents and the three shamans, who parted silently, as he carried Sara up to her room.

  The next morning, Sara had not been in her room, and he began searching for her, concerned regarding possible traumatization, especially considering how extremely she had reacted, how deeply she had engaged with Godsson's grueling theatrics of the night before.

  Instead, the moment he stepped through the doorway of the cafeteria at breakfast time, she'd flung her arms around his waist, bow and arrows clutched in one hand, and proceeded to gush thanks for letting her “help Godsson”; demanded to know if she'd been good enough; and asked whether she would be allowed to help each year. Before he could answer, she then explained that she and Faith were going to be hunting the invisible monsters; and pleading for him to buy and “magic” some more arrows for her.

  He had barely responded to all that, in a generally positive sense, before she had flashed a grin and darted from the room on her way to the front entrance.

  He felt rather as if he had just been spun around by a small whirlwind.

  Looking around, he saw her bowl, plate, glass and cutlery already being stacked back in the glass-fronted cupboard by the washbot, and the male orderly – Dwight? – raising one eyebrow in question.

  'How'd it go last night, Dr H? Well, I reckon? Sara looks extra full of beans this morning, if that's possible.'

  'She does, ah, Dwight, doesn't she?'

  'It's Dwayne, Dr Harmon.'

  'Ah. Of course. Yes, I had planned to give her a thorough examination, but I think that can wait until later in the day. Yes, her attendance at the episode seemed to be a definite positive.'

  'Chill. What'd she mean about magic arrows? What monster?'

  Harmon waved a dismissive hand. 'Merely a game, Dwayne. Something to keep her amused, active, and shooting at things other than orderlies.'

  Two steps forward, one step back, Harmon later mused as he ascended the basement stairs on his way back to his office. Worryingly, Godsson had begun equating the biblical figure of Lilith with d'Artelle, and seeing signs of Sara's “infection” by the thing spawned from that death. He had even urged Harmon to bring Sara into his cell so he could check her for himself.

  Over my dead body, Harmon had thought.

  Chapter 25

  Sara had taken to hunting the invisible monsters on her own. It was getting too dangerous to take Faith along with her: too dangerous for Faith. Faith seemed not to really understand what they were doing, and mostly just followed along looking puzzled while Sara dodged and twisted to avoid their touch. And Faith was just hopeless at avoiding them. Robo had even wrapped around Faith once, and made her go all strange. She'd actually whined; then gone sort of dopey and just trotted off.

  She'd acted weird for days, afterward. Even Mr Shanahan had noticed. He'd wondered if Faith was getting older, less wanting to play. But with enough teasing, and pleading, and begging, and offering to play Faith's favorite games – which mostly involved chasing – after a few days she'd come back to her old self.

  Since then, Sara went on her special hunts solo. Which meant alone, but sounded a lot more grown up.

  It was still rare for her to find either one of the invisible monsters – either Her or Robo – but She wasn't around much any more. Thank goodness. The trouble was, she wasn't sure Robo was, either.

  At least, not really around. ’Cause either Robo was getting creepier, or he was changing. She wasn't even sure Robo was really Robo anymore. He seemed colder. Not at all funny. Sticky, somehow, like he'd learned from Her how to wrap around people. He was actually getting kind of scary. As scary as Her, only in a different way.

  And she was pretty sure her magic arrows weren't working anymore. Not at all.

  Even the thought of being touched by the new Robo made her skin kind of shrink. She found herself shaking her head just at the thought. Somehow she knew it'd be real bad if she let the new Robo get her.

  She wasn't quite sure why she was even hunting it, anymore. The game was no longer any fun at all. The new Robo had even started to act like it was maybe hunting her. She'd also discovered that if she showed any fear, it seemed to see her better. Actually, it was the same if she got angry with it, too. She'd learned she had to stay very Huntress-y: very calm. In its own way, the new Robo, or the grown-up Robo, was almost as creepy as Her. But at least he never tried to talk to her, asking to go for “rides.”

  Okay, so maybe the new Robo wasn't quite as creepy as Her. But she wasn't so sure it was really a good idea to be hunting either of them, anymore.

  She was worried about Godsson, too. Sure, it was cool that she was allowed to be there during his battles – but also, awful. It just didn't make sense, the way they all simply stood around and watched. Why didn't they help? And couldn't they see She was getting stronger?

  Sure, last year hadn't been so bad, but she just knew, somehow, that this time was gonna be a lot worse.

  And she still hadn't thought of anything she could do, even now she was practically fourteen! There oughta be something she could do to help her friend.

  Chapter 26

  Six months later, on a cold, still winter's afternoon, Sara sat in Harmon's office, completing the history quiz he had set her. With little more interest than she herself displayed in performing her studies, he reviewed her results. The logs of her online sessions showed, as he had expected, an improvement over her previously minimum “attendance” efforts. He had let her choose her own avatars for her synthetic instructors, and was hardly surprised to find she'd chosen popular figures from the trid shows she favored. The monthly license fees were well worth the hours they saved him from otherwise having to spend instructing her himself.

  He did wonder, though, why she had chosen “Sleena the pixie warrior” for her math instructor. The small creature looked quite feral, with those long teeth. He couldn't see the connection.

  The female adventurer/investigator “Miss X,” whom she had chosen as her Science lecturer, at least made a modicum of sense. Perhaps, though, the choice of the cyborg dog “Argon” as her English teacher was most surprising. Yet he did not think she had made that choice from any sense of irony.

  He put the smartsheet down, satisfied with her results this month.

  History, of course, was an entirely different matter: far too dangerous and open a subject area to leave to any kind of automated or self-directed study. No, that he made sure to cover himself. There were far too many potential information sources that would interfere with his own aims for her.

  He had carefully designed today's history test to ensure she would meet the minimum standards required for a pass mark. It was somewhat difficult, considering the areas in which he
saw negative value should she learn too much.

  As she completed the quiz, her final score, 62%, transferred across into her online records, and she smiled at the pass mark.

  'Can I go now, Uncle?'

  'Your history results are a little low, Sara. I wondered perhaps whether you'd like to know more about what happened after the magic returned?'

  At that suggestion, she sat up straighter. 'Yeah!'

  'In some ways, we could perhaps have predicted it, after the Week of Miracles. Can you tell me when that was?'

  'Um. March 31, 2036.'

  'Good! You remember, there was an even mix of good and bad “miracles” in that first week: as many people doing terrible things as wonderful things. Yes?'

  She nodded. Briefly, he considered using it to illustrate the lesson “power corrupts,” since the even mix of good and ill did run counter to normal patterns of aggregate behavior; but decided that was probably a lesson best left for later years.

  'And what catastrophe followed the Week of Miracles?' At her blank look, he added, 'What big disaster?'

  'Oh! The First World Storm!'

  'That's right. And why did so few people die in the First World Storm compared to the Second?'

  She thought for a moment. 'Because the Enemy of Mankind made the Second one!'

  He winced at the simplistic answer. 'Well, in a sense I suppose that is true. Although how she did so, no one is quite sure even today. There is some evidence she influenced elemental beings at the global scale.'

  Sara looked lost.

  'Some people think there are elementals so big they can affect the whole Earth, and they think D'Artelle deliberately arranged the Second World Storm to start during the depth of winter in the northern hemisphere. The First World Storm lasted only a week; the Second, four terrible months.'

  At her wide-eyed nod he continued. 'So the death toll from the First was so much smaller because India, South America and Africa are more tropical continents, and few people live in Antarctica.' For a moment he had a strange feeling, something related to the Australis Ocean, but dismissed the tangent thought. 'So, because the First Storm covered the whole world during summer in the northern hemisphere, the death toll was “only” about one hundred thousand. In stark contrast, in the Second World Storm ten thousand times as many people died: over a billion people.'

  'Ohhh. That's a real lot, isn't it?' She looked sad, before brightening. 'But Godsson killed her in the end, and saved everyone, didn't he? With help from the Dragon Lord! Is Lord Shen really a dragon?'

  'Well, he looks like a normal human man. Chinese. Very intense eyes. With flecks of gold.' Harmon thought back to their one and only meeting. 'I simply don't know, Sara. Certainly, a living, breathing dragon did help him reclaim the position of Emperor of China – with some extremely deft political maneuvering of his own. It is also true that that dragon and Lord Li Pao Shen have never been seen at the same time. And Lord Shen claims he has a draconic form. I suppose it may be possible.'

  'Wow. How do you become a dragon, Keepie? Could I?'

  I certainly hope not! 'I don't think you could, no. Even if there is a way, I think it would be a closely-guarded secret. But I was telling you what happened when the magic returned.'

  'Why did it return, Keepie?'

  'A good question!'

  Sara beamed.

  'I have heard many theories, all unconvincing. Personally, given the fact that all the supernatural creatures and beings which have reappeared in modern times have also featured in myths and legends for hundreds, and even thousands of years, I would not be surprised if that continuity of existence across the non-magical period were somehow a significant point.'

  He'd lost her, he could tell. So instead, he recounted the story of the return of the being Kali in July '36, and the terrible consequences as other members of the Hindu pantheon “returned,” leading inexorably to the Great Conflict: Science opposing Magic.

  She listened, absorbed, as he spoke of that awful struggle and the terrible sacrifices, as the Indian people rejected the demand to worship or die. He spoke of the first use of the atomic bomb as a weapon of war for almost a hundred years.

  But the worse history lesson – Melisande d'Artelle's treachery – could wait for some other day. He shook himself. 'Come, Sara. I see it is now 6 pm – I've kept you a little longer than I intended, I'm afraid. I think it's too cold for you to be patrolling tonight with Faith. Time for dinner, anyway. I'll read you a book afterward, if you like.'

  Disappointment at not patrolling with Faith was replaced by pleasure at his offer, he noted.

  It felt strangely good.

  Chapter 27

  Godsson turned even before she reached his door. Frowning, he made his greeting gesture. 'It's rather late, Sara.'

  She shrugged. 'I wanted to find out more about Melisande d'Artelle.'

  'Really. Perhaps if you take off those sunglasses I will. I dislike being unable to see your eyes. You have nothing to fear from me.'

  'I know. But I can't take them off. They're not for you, they're so the stupid computer won't recognize me. That's why I wear this dumb repairman cap, too. And the high heels.'

  For a long while he said nothing.

  'Why this fascination with the Enemy of Mankind, Sara? Do you find yourself drawn to these stories? Do they call to you?'

  'I'm just tryin’ to understand why she did so much bad stuff. Uncle said she killed a zillion people in the Second World Storm.'

  'A fair statement. Did he also tell you that it was at her behest that the Melt retro-virus was created? And the Red Plague?'

  She shook her head, and even through the sunglasses he could see the whites around her widened eyes.

  'Why was it called the red plague?'

  'Can you not guess? What color is blood?'

  'No way.'

  'And all while she ran the Helping Hand organization, working closely with the WHO.'

  'Who?'

  'Some call them that, yes.'

  Godsson should have expected the misunderstanding which followed, and just given the organization its full name…

  'But why was she so evil? Was she always that way?'

  'It's possible she became evil while still quite young.' He watched her as she digested that.

  'But to be that evil, something must've happened to her!'

  'Evil people don't think they're evil, Sara. That is the tragedy.' Again he just looked at her. Then sighed. 'Even Melisande, at the end, claimed she did what she did to save the human race from an even greater threat.'

  'No way! What threat?'

  'It doesn't matter.'

  'What! Are you- I mean, of course it matters. An even bigger threat to the whole human race? What was it?'

  'It doesn't matter. She was merely trying to deceive us.'

  'What. Greater. Threat?'

  'It doesn't matter.'

  'If you don't tell me, I'm not gonna visit you any more. Not ever.'

  Godsson considered that, for long enough for Sara to begin to scowl. 'Very well. But if I tell you, you must promise to do me a favor in return.'

  'Okay.'

  'Do you promise?'

  'Yeah, I promise. Now: what greater threat?'

  'Aliens.'

  'Huh?'

  'Melisande said she did what she did because aliens were invading.'

  For a long while Sara said nothing.

  'You're just making that up.'

  'No. By my Father's Name, that was what she claimed. What she even appeared to believe.'

  Sara digested this. 'Wow. So, what kind of aliens? What do they want? How long-'

  'I'm sorry, Sara, that is absolutely all she shared on the subject. But now, you made a promise to me.'

  She sighed. 'Yeah, okay.'

  'Good. I need you to help me get out of here. So I can fight Her properly. With you by my side.'

  Sara was shaking her head. 'I can't do that! I'd get into awful trouble. I'd be Grounded for weeks!'

&nb
sp; 'So you would break the promise you swore mere minutes ago. How typical.'

  'But you said your father said you couldn't come out till everyone wanted you out.'

  'Everyone will. After I'm out.'

  'No, Godsson, I can't do that. I'm sorry, I just can't!'

  'Go, then. I will Call some…one else.'

  'Don't be horrid. I said I'd do you a favor.' She thought. What might Godsson like? 'Maybe I could get them to get you a pet or something?'

  But he ignored her, and began pacing – almost marching – back and forth across the room.

  'Godsson! Wouldn't you like a kitten?'

  Still he marched. Strangely, the glass misted over, making it harder and harder to see him, gradually hiding him from her sight.

  'Well, fine, see if I care!'

  She stormed off.

  Behind her, the frost continued to build.

  There was no way she could sleep after that! She rugged up extra warmly before sneaking out of her room, her flashlight defocused to throw a diffuse light. Faith had been surprised but pleased to see her after she'd crept up to Mr Shanahan's place, quietly calling her out of her cyber house.

  They'd patrolled for almost two hours, and now Faith's breath panted out in steamy puffs beside her as Sara skipped through the pines leading down to the Institute, occasionally sharing what she'd learned in today's history lesson. She and Faith had finished their patrol in the area where helicopters sometimes landed with new patients, or grumpy FBI men.

  She stopped when Faith halted with a queer half-whine, staring ahead through the trees at the Institute, its light just visible between the trunks. A strange sound of cracks and pops in the trees began, moving closer then suddenly rising all around them. Arctic air rolled over them in a wave, Faith's fur crackling, frost feathering her coat and prickling against Sara's skin, shivering in her hair and eyelashes.