A Rage for Revenge watc-3

by David Gerrold

  I felt like once, in school, we had done dust. We weren't afraid of the side effects. We could handle them. I had sniffed it. And the walls of the room had begun to bulge and wobble and vibrate. Reality threatened to shred all around me. I had started to scream in terror. Because I knew that I was all that was holding the universe together. And if I let go, the universe would let go-when was that?

  Just before the plagues, wasn't it? I'd let go and the world had come to an end. It was my fault.

  Where was I anyway?

  My life was blurring. I didn't remember who I was or what year it was? Had we conquered the Earth yet? Oh, yes, we already had. We just hadn't found out yet.

  What did that mean? What did anything mean? I blinked awake. Where was I?

  I didn't recognize the area. l turned around slowly.

  The van was on a distant hill. Somehow I had walked down the slope and away from it. I was a good half-mile away. The green had faded away; the other colors ruled here.

  They smelled so . . . interesting.

  I got down on my hands and knees to look.

  There was still grass here. Underneath the other things. I guess they were plants, maybe they weren't. They looked like silvery little threads crawling up each blade of grass. Where they touched them they leached the color out of the grass stems, leaving the grass a peculiar bleached white color and brittle to the touch. The grass crunched like old leaves.

  The threads were almost shiny. The thinner threads were white. As they grew older?-yes, older-and thicker, they turned pinkish. Where they had established themselves completely, the ground looked like a pastel tangle. The pink stuff fed on the green. And the blue stuff fed on the pink.

  Naturally.

  Where the pink threads were smooth and clean like noodles, the blue threads were scraggly and barbed. They looked like little insect legs encircling and leaching the flesh of the pink spaghetti. I wondered how many levels of evolution I was looking at.

  A parasite that fed on grass. Plant or animal? Or something that was a little of each, but not enough of either to be one or the other. And then another parasite that fed on that one. Was there still another and another beyond that? When would we see those life forms? Just how vicious was the Chtorran ecology anyway.

  Wait around. You'll find out.

  Shut up, little voice. Get out of my head. Am I going mad again? No, I'm still mad. Is that me or the plants?

  Stop and look. No, that's just me. I recognize my own craziness. How long have I been crazy, anyway?

  All my life.

  The pink stuff had roots. It could survive by itself. But it ate the green out of the grass when it was there. Smart. If it had to earn its own way it did. But it preferred to freeload.

  What about the blue?

  I pressed the ground with my fingers. It felt spongy. My head felt suddenly cavernous. I was hearing echoes of my own thoughts again.

  I straightened up, blinking.

  What had happened? I'd gotten out of the van. . . .

  I'd been hallucinating. Or something. I was tired and-I'd fallen down on the grass. There was something in the grass. Yes, the pink and blue.

  I recognized the pink. I knew the blue. I'd seen them before. Jason had showed them to me.

  I knew what they were.

  Candyland.

  All the prettiest colors of sugary pink and spicy lavender bobbed in the summer sun. The air was thick with their sweet, sharp scent. There were tufts of cloud-white blue and marshmallow white, there were stalks of candy-cane red, there were tuffets of frosting and puddles of pudding--everything stretched and rolled out to the horizon, which was lost in the dust of yellow infinity.

  The air was so sweet, it was like standing on top of a giant angel cake. I imagined I was-and that the stalks were candles and that all the sparkling colors were the candy sprinkles on top of a three-meter layer of caramel frosting. And underneath that-you could dig through the richest, thickest, sweetest layers of pure white cake until you hit the deepest layers of rich chocolate fudge . . .

  But you had to be naked.

  You had to take off all of your clothes and roll around in the candy and get good and sugary, and then when you had grown a big corkscrew snout, then you could start digging.

  I laughed as I kicked off my shoes, and giggled as I pulled off my shirt and peeled out of my underwear. This was going to be fun.

  Yes, I knew the pink and blue. Jason had showed them to me, just before the Revelation. And now, here I'd found a whole field of Revelation plants, all to myself. I wasn't just going to meet god here. I was going to be god.

  The sun was a big red rose in a fat yellow sky. All the plants were singing on the tufty fields. I laughed and burbled. I skipped and sang across the field.

  Until I stopped.

  I stopped to stare at the giant pink gumdrop.

  It was too big to eat. I'd have to live in it instead. I didn't think the worms would mind.

  Their candy cane was out front, all sugar and melty. It said, Vacancy. Inquire within.

  There's a reason why Barton is queer.

  When you meet him, the reason is clear.

  A goddess named Venus

  gave him a penis,

  but Mother Nature filled up his brassiere.

  53

  Encounter

  "How did the Wicked Witch of the West take a bath?"

  -SOLOMON SHORT

  The gumdrop was a very pretty gumdrop. The door was open, so I went in.

  I knew which room would be mine. I hoped I wasn't too late for dinner. The worms would be annoyed. I started down the tapioca tunnels.

  The walls were covered with the finest blue fur I'd ever seen. It grew down in long, velvety strands. You could brush your hands through it as you spiraled downward. It tingled and twinkled and rang like little bells. When you touched it, it sparkled with bursts of pixie dust. Why hadn't I ever noticed that before? If you didn't touch it, it just glowed happily to itself.

  There were big buttery nodules here too, all over the walls. They were thick and chewy looking, but I wasn't hungry yet. Two fat red-bellied millipedes slithered up the tunnel past me, chittering about their bellies; I said hello, but they were too busy to answer. They had to grow up big and fat first.

  I was pleased to see that the circulation vines were spreading throughout the gumdrop. They were thick with moist red syrup. So sweet-smelling too. This was going to be one of the great gumdrops of the world.

  Everything was here.

  I hoped the worms would like me and would let me stay. I could tell them gumdrop stories.

  The worms were in the big chamber of the left ventricle. I knew, because that's where all the circulation vines were pointing.

  For now, anyway. Later, they would point toward the real main chamber. That would be much deeper. And much larger.

  There were four worms here in the gumdrop. They were very beautiful worms. All of them were well striped. Their markings were very clear and clean. I was glad of that. I liked the certainty. Their sides were bright with fierce orange and gentle pink and then a bit of brooding dark purple.

  I knew their names, even though I couldn't pronounce them, so I said hi the best way I could and just waited politely for them to notice me. They were communing. The big one was (Aristotle). He was the big one even though he wasn't the biggest. The worms always have a big one who does most of the knowing for the others, and being the big one isn't about size, it's about knowing. (Aristotle) had the most purple on his sides.

  (Beelzebub) was only recently male and was still trumpeting and posturing; his orange stripes blazed. The others all thought he was very beautiful. (Aristotle) was very eager to mate with him. So was (Gargoyle); she kept flashing pink with her orange.

  (Delta) was too young to have a personality yet; she just wanted to carry the eggs. She wanted to be rolled over on her back and tickled until she was fat with eggs. You could see it in her stripes, all proud and raspberry pink.

&n
bsp; They were dancing.

  It was the dance of (restlessness until we rest). They curled in and out of each other, sliding and stroking and tickling the sparks off each other's fur. I wanted to join them. I wanted to grow pink fur of my own. But I could wait. I knew that my own fur would come in time. And then I could link with the worms too.

  There was so much they had to teach me. And I, them.

  They had to know what to watch out for. The world outside the gumdrop was still too raw, too wild, not yet awakened.

  They (rested). They (linked). They (sang).

  The (song) included me. I could feel myself in the (music). I would descend into it like a well, deeper and deeper, and as I did, I stopped being me and began to become (myself).

  I (hugged).

  I (tingled). All over. (Linked).

  "Come on, Jimbo."

  "Huh?"

  "l said, come on. It's time to go."

  I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. We were still in the worm nest.

  He put his hand on my shoulder. It reminded me of that time in the shower. I climbed to my feet. I was cold.

  "Where are the worms?"

  "They're gone," he said. "And now it's time for us to go too. Come on. We found out what we needed to. Let's get out of here."

  "What did we find out?"

  "You don't have the words for it any more. Come on." He sounded impatient.

  "I'm cold."

  "I know. This way. It'll be warmer in a minute." He grabbed me and started pushing me toward the tunnel. I staggered and fell; he said a bad word and helped me up again.

  "Sorry."

  "Just keep walking. I can't do this all myself. You're going to have to help me." He ducked under my shoulder and pulled my arm across his back. "Hang on," he said, and half-carried me up the tunnel. We were both naked. Why was that? There was something about a naked man--

  The nest seemed a lot darker now. As if someone had turned out all the lights. The vines weren't pumping any more either. Was the nest dying? Or just turned off?

  Outside, the sky was black and the ground was bright. The stars were pink. The sun was cold. The clouds were complete. They swirled and billowed upon themselves; they were a massive ceiling to the world.

  "Where are we?"

  "Same place. Just keep walking, Jimbo. It's very important. Just keep walking."

  All the plants were flat and blasted. They glowed in death as if they were lit from the inside. The shadows floated upward. The dust drifted up and away. Our eyes were lit from within too. But I couldn't see the pixies any more.

  "Easy boy-close your eyes if it helps."

  "I wanted to go back to sleep."

  "You will in a minute. First things first."

  "Who are you?"

  "Jim boy, you know me. I'm you. You're me. We're us. Now, just keep walking. Keep walking and I'll teach you how to flame."

  "Uh-uh. You can't teach me how to flame. You said it can't be taught. "

  "I lied."

  I stumbled and fell. The ground was very hard. I decided to rest a bit. I could get up later.

  "Jim-come on, get up!"

  "Later. I need to sleep a bit first."

  "No, Jim. Now!"

  "No," I said and curled up.

  "Poppies!" Someone was cackling over me. "Poppies."'

  I opened my eyes in annoyance. "What? Are we that close to the Emerald City? I don't even have any ruby slippers. Leave me alone. That's somebody else's story. Why is that old bitch picking on me?"

  "Because you're ugly and your mother undresses you funny. Good, Jim-come on. Hold onto my hand. Step into the light, you're out of the night-you know how it goes. One foot in front of the other."

  "I don't want be crazy any more," I said. "I'd rather be dead. I'd rather be Ted. I'd rather be led-"

  "Okay, I'll lead you." He pulled at my arm. "Come on. I'll be Peter Pan and you can be one of the lost boys-"

  "Can we fly?"

  "Yes, we can fly."

  "Really? We can really fly?"

  "Yes, we can."

  "Then why do we have to walk. Let's fly-"

  "You'll have to concentrate."

  "I will. I wanna fly."

  "Lift your arms. Hold onto my hand now. Up, up, and away-"

  "Are you Superman, too?"

  "I'm anyone you need me to be. Anyone you want me to be."

  "Are we flying now?"

  "Look down."

  I looked. We were rising up gracefully, up over the field, the nest, the van--

  I giggled.

  "Good, Jimmy boy. That's real good. Keep it up. Just a little bit longer."

  "This is hard work, flying."

  "I told you, you'd have to concentrate. That's it, flap your arms. Move your legs a little too. Yeah, just like you're walking." We were drifting sideways. The glow across the ground was the reflection of our light. The van looked like it was melting. We were sinking toward it.

  "I can't keep it up," I said.

  "It's all right, we're almost there. Just lower your wheels for a safe landing and you'll be just fine."

  "And put up the tray tables and bring your seat backs to a full upright position," I added. We bumped across the ground and collapsed against the door of the van. I slid it open and fell halfway in. He helped me lift my legs up. We closed the door together and climbed, staggered, fell into bed and rolled into each other's arms and held onto each other as hard as we could while the night roared around us with loud sweet purple noises.

  He smelled so good.

  Then there was Benjamin Bright,

  a contestant on "What's My Delight?"

  They guessed at his habits

  with little white rabbits,

  but were stumped by his mouse and his kite.

  54

  Paradise Lost

  "The lights are most likely to come back on at the precise moment you find the flashlight."

  -SOLOMON SHORT

  The bright sunlight glaring in my eyes woke me up.

  I was lying on a rumpled blanket on the floor of the van. I was alone. The sunlight slanted in sideways through the front window. I sat up. I was naked. My skin had an oily feel to it, and I felt a peculiar light-headedness. I wasn't dizzy, but I felt like I was floating two inches in the air, drifting rather than sitting.

  I rubbed my eyes and looked around for-what was his name?-he was gone. He hadn't even kissed me goodbye. What the . . . ?

  I remembered some of it.

  The gumdrop. The nest. The glowing blue fur on the walls. The worms. The (names). The (song). The-that part, I couldn't quite identify.

  And then somebody had come and lifted me up and walked me out of the nest. I remembered it. We had gone to Emerald City. And then we had flown back to the van. That was the clearest part of all. And then we had made love.

  I really was crazy.

  My hallucinations were more real than reality.

  I got out of the van and padded around naked, examining the ground. The only footprints were mine. The only tire tracks were mine.

  No.

  This was stupid.

  He was real. Hallucinations don't get that intense. We'd made love. I remembered the feel of him and the smell of him too vividly.

  What was going on inside my head? Was it actually possible to have delusions that realistic?

  This was-very confusing.

  Shit.

  I gathered up what few of my clothes I could find and tossed them in the back of the van. I pulled on a jumpsuit and slippers and wondered what I should do.

  "I could still kill myself," I suggested.

  "Nah," I replied. "That doesn't sound like anywhere near as much fun as it did yesterday."

  "Hmm. . . . " I said.

  This was interesting. I didn't feel quite so crazy any more. I was having terrific hallucinations, but at least I didn't feel crazy. Actually, I felt-sort of like me again. Not so bad, really.

  I could remember Family. I could remember eve
rything, but it was all on the other side of a wall and I couldn't feel the hurt. I could see it clearly. I just couldn't feel it any more.

  What I felt instead was . . . sore.

  I rubbed my neck tenderly. I ached all over. Were these bruises on my body from the acts of passion? Or was it just from falling down the hill? It didn't matter. The weird thing, the thing that was so down-deep disturbing, was that despite the soreness, I actually felt good. Like you always do after good sex with someone you love.

  Even if it's only a hallucination. I started laughing.

  Whatever that pink stuff was, it stayed with you for a long time. I'd probably be grinning all the way to Colorado. Maybe I should take some with.

  No.

  That was the wrongness. The temptation.

  It would be too easy to hide out in the world of hallucinations. And as beautiful as they had been, it would be a dangerous mistake. It would only be the illusion of escape.

  I climbed into the front of the van and clicked on all the systems. All the boards showed green. Good. I hadn't done anything too stupid last night. I punched for coffee-well, it sort of tasted like coffee-and a ration bar and waited while both heated up.

  Eventually, I felt well enough to ease the van back onto the road and put it on autopilot.

  I hardly watched where we were going.

  My mind was still trying to figure out the impossible.

  Out of curiosity, I switched on the autolog and scanned the record. The motion sensors had triggered recordings only twice during the night. The first recording showed me prancing around naked on the hill, alone.

  At least I looked like I was having fun.

  The second recording showed me staggering back alone. I looked like a zombie, jerking and twitching as if somebody else were pulling my strings.

  Well, that settled that.

  Either the pink was an incredible hallucinogen-or I was as crazy as a loon.