Max and the Snoodlecock

by Zachry Wheeler

  The navigation computer pinged with the approaching destination. Just ahead, a city-sized platform rested upon a monstrous pillar that punched through the canopy. Towers of glass and metal lifted into the clouds, as if oblivious to their lush surroundings. Ships of all shapes and sizes circled the metropolis like bees around a hive. The port authority pinged with autopilot acquisition. Zoey released the yoke as the vessel slowed to a leisure taxi. The ship floated beneath the city rim and into a tunnel of docking bays. After a series of banks and turns, it slowed to a stop and parked itself inside a protective cubby. A gentle push from the landing gear completed their arrival.

  “Your ship has docked in bay DA-362,” a robotic voice said. “Please take note for future reference.”

  “Got it,” Perra said, tapping her comdev.

  “Gravy,” Zoey said as she lifted from her pilot seat.

  The group filtered into the cargo bay, leaving Perra to power down the ship. Steve flapped onto a stack of crates as the rest prepped for departure. Zoey grabbed a few personal effects from a nearby locker and dropped them into a sling bag. She knocked the locker closed as Perra emerged from the cockpit. Max munched through a quick snack pack with Ross chilling by his side.

  “So what’s the plan, Steve-O?” Zoey said.

  “We’re going to Panky’s Meat Parlor on the west side of the city. It’s a straight shot through the tubes, not far from here.”

  “Sounds like a butcher’s shop,” Max said.

  Steve shrugged. “It can be if you wait long enough.”

  Max cringed, then decided that any subsequent info was unwanted.

  Perra skipped to the airlock, tapped it open, and swung her arm like a concierge. “Shall we?”

  The group exited the ship, each dropping to the pristine platform of a swank docking bay. Yellow pathways led to a set of double doors in the rear. The walls featured rotating hologram adverts for various local businesses. The colorful print and comical characters gave them a distinct Japanese flair, gifting Max a rare glimpse of home. He grinned as the double doors slid open, revealing a crowded corridor full of alien visitors. The roar of perpetual conversation spilled into the bay. Steve waited for an opening, then hopped into the flow of traffic. The group followed one by one and the doors closed behind them.

  A short way down the hall, Steve stopped at one of the many tube stations, joining a growing crowd of tourists and commuters. A train of maglev pods arrived soon after. The group pushed their way on board, squeezing together like a bundle of boglogs (the local equivalent of a can of sardines, basically a sack of screeching bog eels). Luckily for everyone, the trip was brief. They arrived at the explorer district, a shopping bazaar catering to young adventurers and crabby locals wanting to escape the humidity. The group squirmed their way through tube traffic and emerged into the city streets. Sleek shuttles cruised overhead with linear precision, passing between the towers as if attached to invisible rails. The street-level enjoyed a peaceful cleanliness with beds of vegetation and muted conversation.

  Steve hopped and flapped his way across an open plaza. His excitement infected the group, elevating their pace to a light jog. They ducked and dodged their way through an assortment of scales, fur, snouts, and tails, all dressed to the nines in whatever their species deemed classy. Soon after, they arrived at the Westside branch of Panky’s Meat Parlor. The backlit sign seemed out of place inside a bustling square full of blinking neon and hologram billboards, as if the shop had been there forever and the owner refused to meld with the times. Steve scratched his talons on the welcome mat, waddled inside, and flapped up to the counter. The group followed the snoodlecock into the foyer of a small shop that reminded Max of a dry cleaners. The clerk smiled through its iguana-like complexion.

  “Hello friend,” the clerk said, sounding like a Minnesota car salesman. “What can I do ya for?”

  “Pick up, please. Should be under Gerfon Temparstangle Folinster Er Domplefoosh.”

  “Sure thing, one tick.” The clerk whistled as he scrolled through a hologram feed. “Ah yes, there you are. Might I get a telepathic confirmation?”

  Steve’s eyelid twitched.

  The computer pinged.

  “Okay then.” The clerk nodded and turned to a rack of hanging bodies. He pressed a large green button, prompting the conveyor to cycle through a collection of meat suits. The dangling humanoids, all in vegetative states, stared at the floor with blank expressions as if they had gothed-out and given up on the world. The clerk eyed each passing number and stopped at the body in question, a stumpy beast with a plump belly, resembling the unholy spawn of a chameleon and a penguin. The clerk resumed his whistle as he tapped through a sequence of commands that disconnected the life support system. He strapped on a loading belt, hoisted the body from the rack, and placed it in an open space next to the counter.

  “There ya go, friend,” he said, adding a shoulder pat.

  Steve gave it a once over before initiating the transfer. Both bodies quivered as his consciousness jumped from the snoodlecock to the Yarnwal shell. Steve shivered inside his original meat sack, then blinked and smacked his lips as if waking from a long nap. After a grunt and shoulder roll, he patted his belly in familiar comfort. “Hello, old friend,” he said in his baritone documentary voice.

  The snoodlecock, having no fucking clue where it was, spun around the countertop in total confusion. It flinched at every new face, then yelped and jerked backwards when it eyed the green clerk, paralyzing it with a potent mixture of fear and bewilderment.

  Steve smiled and scooped the bird from the counter with a gentle hand. “Thank you for the glorious adventure,” he said, then gobbled the snoodlecock whole. The bird shrieked as it fell into his gullet. Steve gulped, belched, and sighed with contentment. He wiped his mouth and rubbed his belly before catching the horrified faces of everyone else (minus the clerk, who expected such things).

  “Dude!” Max said. “You just ate ... yourself!”

  “Bird ain’t me no more,” Steve said with a flat tone.

  “Yeah, but ...” Perra struggled to conjure a reasonable retort. “That was, kind of, weird.”

  “I’m a fleshless cyborg devoid of nutritional properties,” Ross said in a hurried voice. “Just wanted to throw that out there.”

  “Aaaanyway,” Zoey said, extending her hand. “It’s nice to finally meet the real you, Steve.”

  “The pleasure is all mine,” he said, gripping her hand. “Words cannot express my profound gratitude for all you have done for me.”

  “We owed you,” Perra said. “And thank you again for saving our butts. Twice.”

  Steve grinned, then belched up a few feathers.

  “Seriously,” Max said to Ross. “That’s messed up.”

  Ross maintained his horrified please don’t eat me stare.

  “And to show my appreciation for bringing me all this way, I would like to extend an invitation to my home this evening. It is a time-honored tradition on Yankar for families to celebrate the glorious returns of their explorers. We shall dance, drink, and drink some more. I shall feed and house you all as my guests of honor.” Steve stretched his face into a toothy grin.

  The group traded smirking glances, minus a wide-eyed Ross who feared a sudden snack attack.

  “We would be delighted,” Perra said with a warm smile.

  “Excellent!” Steve chuckled and clapped his paws, which bounced a pudgy belly.

  The clerk cleared his throat. “This is touching and all, but you do know you’re still naked, right?” He opened a storage bin and set a stack of clothes on the counter.

  An awkward silence gripped the parlor.

  Steve glanced at the clothes, then down to his birthday suit, then back to the group. His lips puckered as he battled a sudden loss of dignity. “Yes, um ... excuse me.” He swiped the pile from the counter and hurried to a nearby changing room.

  * * *

  That evening, the group arrived at Steve’s home, a tiny cottage tow
n tucked deep inside the forest. The community relished all the modern conveniences, but suffered none of the hassles. Many tribes preferred simpler living as a direct opposition to the hustle and bustle of platform cities. The sights and sounds of the jungle captivated those who sought a more intimate connection with the planet. They enjoyed an endless bounty of fresh food and clean water, collected from a vibrant landscape with minimal effort. Steve’s community dated back untold generations, all in love with the forest.

  Steve’s family greeted his arrival like a victorious king returning from battle. His relatives, many of whom occupied new bodies, welcomed the Earthling, feline, and Mulgawats like wearied travelers in need of pampering. They feasted on beast and vine, exploring an endless variety of strange yet delicious flavors. They also drank, a lot, draining barrels of wine and ale. Max had very little experience with alcohol, even less so with exotic brews from other planets. Thus, he drank himself to the point of complete stupefaction. It was the greatest party of his life, and he savored every second.

  Later that evening, after most of the family had called it a night, Zoey, Perra, Max, and Steve sat around a dwindling bonfire. Ross had wandered off in search of a safe place to sleep, for fear of midnight snackers. The group barked and laughed about their recent adventure, toasting the highs and scoffing the lows. Max teetered upon a log while wearing a cheeky grin. He raised his mug and shouted “I love lizard Hobbiton!” before falling backwards and passing out.

  CHAPTER 17

  Max awoke the next morning with a raging hangover. The pops of crackling embers from a burnt-out bonfire needled his ears, exacerbating a throbbing headache. He lay where he fell the night before, sprawled out in the grass with a log tucked beneath his legs. Twitching eyelids lifted like faulty window blinds, revealing a bright blue sky overhead with banks of fluffy white clouds. A lush green canopy of giant leaves and soaring trees swayed on the peripherals of an open valley. The chirps of birds and barks of other strange creatures echoed in the distance. He groaned, smacked his lips, and lifted himself back onto the log.

  As he struggled with a rousing soberness, he stared into the fire pit like a wizard seeking guidance. Orange fissures glowed through a pane of gray ash. A few logs remained as little more than charred twigs of coal. Max yawned, rubbed his eyes, and scratched an itch under his bushy beard. His jaw slacked open as he glanced down to a scruffy chin mane resting atop a rugged shirt. Long, unkempt hair dangled in front of his face, hooking his attention. He slid dirty fingers through the nappy locks and gave them a tug. A sharp sting confirmed that the strands were indeed his.

  He continued to examine his peculiar new ensemble. A complete set of grimy leather duds clung to his body, like a ratty biker after a mud wrestling match. Thick straps and heavy stitching gave them an air of durability, the kind of clothes that outlasted the bodies they cover. Sandy brown pants fell to a pair of fur-lined boots that hugged his legs just above the ankle. No heels or cowboy flair, just a thick hide with latching straps to keep them taut. A beaded necklace with large claws completed the outfit. Max lifted the strand for a closer look. Sharp talons shined with colorful patterns, as if clipped from a fashion-forward Velociraptor.

  Max dropped his palms onto the log and started to lift his body, but paused at an unusual sight. The arm press had flexed an epic pair of biceps, something wholly foreign to his gamer physique. He stiffened his posture and struck a few bodybuilder poses, or rather, what a lanky nerd considered bodybuilder poses. Another flex lifted a slab of meat under his shirt. He hooked his collar and pulled it open, revealing an impressive pair of pecs. An eager hand slipped under the shirt and fondled one of them with the same enthusiasm of reaching second base. A slap of his thigh uncovered a sturdy trunk of lean muscle. Max chuckled at the discovery, like a would-be superhero waking up after a radioactive spider bite.

  Max climbed to his feet with the aid of his new beefcake body. He surveyed the valley for any rational explanation, but the entire community had vanished. No huts, no roads, no walkways, no vehicles of any kind. It was the same spot, as far as he could tell, but engulfed by trees and foliage. The tiny clearing he occupied seemed exposed, dangerous even. A thin line of smoke lifted from the fire pit, over which hung a roasting spit and a charred rib cage. Even the dull roar of space ships cruising through the atmosphere had vanished. He glanced up to the open sky, looking for signs of modern life, but found nothing. Moments later, a winged creature the size of a prop plane sailed across the valley. A mixture of scales and feathers gave it a mangled look, like the mutated offspring of a cockatoo and pterodactyl. The beast shrieked as it passed, sending a bitter chill down Max’s spine.

  Panic set in hard and fast. Max grabbed a sturdy-looking spear resting beside the pit and sprinted towards the shuttle station a few miles away. The sun disappeared overhead as he exited the valley and entered a dense jungle. The lack of roads forced him to carve his own path using nothing but wits and a fuzzy memory. He ducked under branches, leapt over roots, and splashed across babbling brooks. Leaves and bugs smacked him in the face, but a focused stride kept his attention forward. Despite having never worked out a day in his life, Max raced through the brush without breaking a sweat. The newfound endurance took him by surprise. A welcome tweak for sure, but it failed to explain what the hell was going on.

  Max hugged a bend at full speed and skidded to a halt where the shuttle station should have been. An anxious gaze darted around the area, but found a barren hill of rocks and dirt. A distinctive boulder confirmed that he was in the right place. He huffed with frustration and scratched his noggin, unable to make sense of the situation.

  “Hello?!” he said, sending an echo through the trees.

  Silence responded.

  “Is there anybody out there?!”

  Twig snaps responded.

  Max whipped his gaze up the hill to find a pair of eyes staring back at him. A tarantula beast the size of a monster truck crested the summit. Bulging yellow orbs and rows of jagged teeth adorned the face of a hairy nightmare. It roared in a manner that buckled Max’s knees and came charging down the hill. Max yelped, spun around, and sprinted back the way he had come. The thumps of skittering limbs shook the ground behind him. Max’s leg muscles burned with a rush of adrenaline, pushing him as fast as humanly possible, but not fast enough. The creature gained on its prey, closer, and closer, then a chomp and blood-curdling screech.

  Max tumbled to the ground and spun to face the beast with his spear at the ready, only to find it lifting into the air in the massive jaws of a furry dinosaur. The towering creature, resembling Godzilla with a yeti complex, stood as tall as an office building. Its massive legs mimicked the trees it stood among in size and color, a very effective hunting strategy. Max understood right away that the monster just hung out and waited patiently for treats to wander by. The tarantula flailed and growled before a mammoth chomp crushed its brittle body. Yellow blood rained from the sky as the dino crunched through the exoskeleton. Max quivered as warm droplets kissed his cheeks and chest. While grateful for the deus ex machina life extension, he took the opportunity to slip away unnoticed.

  Max glided over a hill and ducked behind a tree to catch his breath. He gripped the spear with both hands, cradling it to his chest like a toddler with a favorite toy. Gasping and panting, he stood with his back to the massive trunk as his lungs talked each other off the ledge. He closed his eyes and concentrated on slowing his heart to a reasonable rhythm. The horror began to fade, but then a tickle on his shoulder popped his eyes open. Lips clenched as he slogged his gaze to the side. A giant blue centipede the size of a pool noodle crawled down his arm. It paused to return the stare, using lanky red eyestalks. Max yelped, flail-punched the creature off his arm, and leapt back into a full sprint.

  A short time later, Max arrived back at the valley edge. He poked his spear through a drapery of vines and pulled them aside like a shower curtain. The sunlight warmed his skin as he stepped into the valley, his heart still racing
from the hideous misadventure. His lungs slowed to a moderate pace, restoring an air of composure. He lifted a hand to his brow and scanned the grassy plane from end to end. Near the center, a ribbon of smoke continued to lift from the fire pit. The sounds of a vibrant forest filled the air, everything from croaking trees to yapping creatures. Max sighed and crept along the forest line, heeding a powerful need to stay hidden.

  Soon after, he happened upon a puddle of water. Max dropped to his knees and scooped handfuls into his mouth, quenching a sudden thirst. Looming over the puddle edge, he watched the ripples smooth to reveal a jarring reflection. A curious hand caressed soiled cheeks and traced a meaty jaw. He opened his mouth wide, uncovering stained teeth in desperate need of a dental hygienist.

  “Jeez. I look like a Viking hobo.”

  Climbing to his feet, he continued his slow hike around the valley until he found a fallen log to rest upon. A wearied body took a much-needed seat as lungs expelled a cache of pent-up air. He studied the spear he carried, a crude device with dried blood stains on a stony head. An armpit sniff and subsequent recoil verified that he hadn’t bathed in weeks, maybe months. He set the spear aside, lifted his gaze to the sky, and sighed with vexation.

  “Where the hell am I?”

  A rustle in the bushes needled his ear. He whipped his gaze to the brush behind him, flinging beads of sweat into the dirt. Grabbing his spear, he leapt from the log and spun to face an unknown menace. Another rustle, closer this time. He hardened his gate with spear primed and ready. Lungs fluttered. Muscles trembled. Another rustle, this time with a low grumble. Max whimpered. Leaves exploded into the air as a saber-toothed tiger burst through the foliage and landed with a thud. The creature locked eyes with the human and roared with fury, exposing powerful fangs. Max shrieked, dropped his spear, and sprinted into the open field. The cat hesitated, toying with its prey before digging its claws into the earth and giving chase.