by Robert Bevan
“Fuller tit sauce?”
“Tips! Wing tips! Pull them up!” Stacy felt a wobble of almost quasi-stability as Julian followed her orders. It was a tiny wobble, just enough to suggest that there was probably a right way to do this. The fact that they were still in free fall suggested that they hadn't yet discovered it. “Too high! Bring them back down a little!”
After another wobble, they were falling slower. The wind was still rushing straight up, and fast enough that they still probably wouldn't survive hitting the ground at this speed, but it was definitely an improvement.
Stacy tried a number of minute adjustments to the parts of the glider under her control, raising and lowering her arms, pulling up her knees and putting her legs out straight again. While several attempts seemed to worsen their situation, few did them any good.
Not wanting to die without having tried everything she could think of, she tried lowering only her right arm. Something changed, and they finally harnessed some significant air. They were moving forward, kind of. It was more like a wide downward spiral, but it was a hell of a lot better than straight down.
“It's working!” cried Julian. “Stacy, you're a genius!”
That was sweet of him to say. She didn't have the heart to tell them they were still going to die if they hit the ground at this speed.
“Of course,” Julian shouted over the wind, “we're still going to die if we hit the ground at this speed!”
Stacy moved her head left and right, trying to clear some of the Web out of her face. Her vision became clear enough to see that they had a lot less time than she'd thought to find the exact wing tilts they needed. “Julian! We're getting close! You need to try some adjustments! Nothing too big! Tiny movements and see what works!”
“I've got a better idea!”
Don't summon a horse. Don't summon a horse. Don't summon a horse.
“Celestial Giant Bee!”
Stacy had to admit, that was unexpected.
A massive gold-and-platinum-striped honeybee, about the size of a Volkswagen Beetle, appeared just below them, its rapidly flapping wings two silvery blurs flanking its metallic-looking furry body. It took in its surroundings curiously with eyes that looked like giant mirrored sunglasses.
Stacy wanted to ask Julian how the bee was supposed to help them, but the hum of its wings was deafening. That made sense, considering how loud a normal bee's buzz could be from the speed it needed to flap to stay airborne. As big as this thing was, it had to be flapping like a mofo.
One more spiral would have them slamming right into the bee. She could understand how it might be helpful to have a flying creature of that size shoulder some of their weight and slow their descent, but surely Julian must have been taking into account that –
“Shit!” said Julian as the buzzing abruptly stopped and Stacy found herself with a faceful of prickly bee hair. “Sorry! That was poorly thought out.”
Stacy corrected her train of thought. Apparently, Julian hadn't taken into account that the bee's wings would likely get stuck in the web, as that was the exact purpose for which webs had evolved.
The glider went from a spiral to a spin. With the giant bee ass in her face, it was now impossible to tell how fast they were falling. Stacy stretched her legs as wide as the serape and web would allow and adjusted her arms to try and get that spiral back, but she couldn't see anything.
“Julian! I can't see! You need to bring us down!”
“Celestial Giant Bee!” said Julian.
“WHAT THE FUCK?”
Stacy felt another sudden jolt, no doubt meaning that they'd smacked into another giant magical bee. Once that guy gets a solution in his head, he sticks with it no matter what the –
SQPWLISH
She couldn't see. She couldn't breathe. She could barely move. The only evidence she had that she was still alive was all the pain. It was like someone had thrown a wall at her.
No time for pain now. Breathing was the top priority.
With a little bit of effort, she pulled her arms free from the bamboo and scraped the web out of her face, along with whatever foul-tasting liquid was mixed in with it.
Once she'd cleared it from her nose and mouth, rendering her able to breathe again, she cleared it out of her eyes.
It was bee guts. She was writhing in the abdomen of a giant squashed bee. Julian must have summoned that second one figuring that using giant bees to break their fall was better than – Julian!
Stacy sprang to her feet. Julian lay face down inside the crushed abdomen of the other bee. She grabbed him by the shoulders and flipped him over, then wiped the bee guts off his face and checked his pulse. She sighed with relief when she found it. He was alive.
“Julian?”
He groaned as he opened his eyes. “Are we... Did we...” His eyes widened as he looked up at the sky. “Holy shit! We did it! We're alive!”
Stacy looked up. The Crescent Shadow was high above them. And then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone.
“Yeah, we did it alright,” she said. “Of course, now we're stranded in the desert.”
Chapter 34
Those passengers of the Maiden's Voyage who had survived the fight with fewer limbs than they'd started the trip with were understandably upset about it. Randy felt bad leaving people in pain, but he limited his Lay on Hands ability to one Hit Point per injured passenger. Just enough to stop the bleeding and stabilize the recipient. Once that ran out, he helped administer more conventional methods of treatment, such as tourniquets and cauterizing irons, under the supervision of one of the ship's crewmen who had evidently taken some ranks in the Heal skill. They screamed, cried, cursed the gods and Randy, some of them pleading with him to just let them die.
But the crewmen had sustained identical injuries were shockingly laid back about it. It came as no surprise to Randy, of course, that sailors would generally be a heartier breed than most. It's a hard life at sea. But how tough did a person have to be to act so casual at the loss of a limb? This was a life-changing event. No matter what rough experiences they'd had in the past, they'd gotten through them with all of their limbs until now. They were going to face some serious limitations, or at least have to work really hard to overcome them. And yet they laughed and compared the sizes of their bloody stumps. Randy even heard one guy complain that he'd lost a tattoo he really liked.
Was there some kind of nautical peer pressure to act manly no matter what tragedies befell them? Was it the denial stage of grief? Were they simply really that tough?
Nightwind's crew, who had performed more effectively during the battle, at least had the presence of mind to be upset about the limbs they'd lost.
One patient Randy hadn't tended to was Denise. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't recall seeing her during the fight, or at all since the previous evening. He hoped she hadn't been thrown overboard in battle. Glancing over the railing revealed nothing but the choppy waves. Whatever the sea was hiding under them, she wasn't telling.
Denise might have crossed over to Nightwind to help Katherine get established, but Randy wanted to check their cabin first, just to rule it out.
“No!” cried Denise from inside as Randy approached the door. “Stop it! Get off of me! That hurts!”
“Denise!” Randy braced himself against the railing and kicked in the door.
Denise was naked on the floor, punching and kicking at their assigned cabin mate. He was also naked, grunting and sweating, meeting Denise's paltry attempts to defend herself with heavy handed slaps as he tried to force himself on her.
Randy grabbed Denise's assailant by his greasy ponytail and pulled back hard. “You son of a bitch! I'll kill you!”
The rapist shouted in pain as his head jerked back. He hopped to his feet and swung his elbow back, catching Randy in his left cheekbone. It smarted, but Randy kept his grip on the big guy's hair.
Randy hadn't realized how big this guy was, and an admirable collection of scars adorned his naked flesh, sugges
ting that he had more fighting experience as well. But Randy knew no fear, for he had something even better. The smiting power of Jesus.
“Randy!” said Denise. “Goddammit!”
Randy was ready for the elbow when it flew back at his face again. Ducking under it, he thrust his free hand to his adversary's junk and gripped his balls as tightly as he could. “By the power of Jesus Christ, I smite you!” He shuddered as he felt the big man's testicles squish like grapes in his hand.
“Uuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnggggggggghhhhhhh,” said the rapist.
No time to get squeamish. Randy led him out through the doorway and flipped him over the rail. He hit the water hard and cradled his crushed nuts.
“Hagarf!” Denise stood naked in the doorway, her fists clenched and shaking with anger, but she kept her voice down, like she was worried someone might hear her. “Are you out of your goddamn mind, Randy?”
“What?” said Randy.
“What the fuck was that all about? Could you not see that I was in the middle of something?”
“What?” Randy repeated. He had neither expected nor wanted a display of gratitude during what would presumably be a very traumatic time for Denise, but he certainly wasn't expecting this. “It looked to me like you was in the middle of gettin' raped.”
“I was!” shouted Denise, peeking over the railing. Then she leaned back and spoke in a quieter voice again. “At least that's what he thought.”
“What?” Randy would have liked to vary his responses, but Denise just wasn't making any sense.
“Thank you, mighty paladin!” Denise was shouting again. “You saved me from that despicable evil man! I'm eternally grateful!” She shoved Randy and whispered, “Hurry up and throw him a goddamn rope or something. And you'd better be able to set his balls right again.”
Randy stood confused for a moment, his moral compass spinning wildly. He had felt both justified and righteous by causing harm to his friend's assailant. The big man's intentions were evil, but he had been tricked into acting on them. Randy supposed that in times of doubt, he would do best to err on the side of forgiveness.
Randy found a coil of rope on the deck tied in a wide loop at the end. He guessed it was put there for just this situation. Well, the man overboard situation anyway. Not necessarily the I purposely squeezed a man's balls to jelly and threw him overboard situation. That was way too specific an event to prepare for, after all.
“Praise the gods!” cried Denise, looking over the rail. “That vile man is drowning!” She backed away from the rail and glared at Randy. “Hurry the fuck up, would you?”
“Alright, fine.” Randy had half a mind to throw her in after him. He tossed the loop of rope down to Hagarf but found Denise was right. He did appear to be drowning. His head was dipping below the waves, and he wasn't going for the rope. “Aw man.”
“What?” said Denise. She came back to the rail and gasped. “What the hell are you waitin' for, Randy? A fuckin' invitation? Get in there and save him!”
Randy climbed over the rail and jumped into the water. It was colder than he expected and his boots made swimming difficult. In retrospect, it probably would have been wiser to take them off first. Fortunately, he was close enough to grab hold of the rope in one hand and Hagarf's ponytail in the other. He pulled the big man up until his head was above the water, then looped the rope under his arms.
Randy was about to shout for Denise to pull up the rope, but he noticed that Hagarf was completely unresponsive, and his face was a little bluer than what seemed healthy. He must have taken water into his lungs.
Fearing he might not survive the time it would take to be pulled back on board the ship, Randy decided to administer some amateur CPR there and then. He kept his left hand firmly gripped on the rope to avoid sinking under the waves himself, and used his right hand to pinch Hagarf's nose. He pressed his lips to Hagarf's and tried both blowing and sucking, not sure which, if any, was the appropriate method.
“Hey!” shouted Denise. “The fuck you think you're doing? You people ain't got an ounce of self-control!”
Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation didn't seem to be doing anything, so Randy tried the only other move he could think of. He was pretty sure the Heimlich maneuver was more for people who had a chunk of hot dog wiener blocking their lungs than for drowning victims, and he'd never been trained on how to do it properly, but it wasn't like screwing it up was going to make Hagarf any more dead than if he did nothing at all.
Randy turned Hagarf around and hugged him tight from behind, gripping his greasy ponytail with his teeth to keep his face out of the water. Hoping that he was at least kind of doing it right, he tightened and loosened his arms around Hagarf's abdomen, then repeated the process.
“Jesus Tittyfucking Christ, Randy!” Denise shouted down at him. “Ain't you got no shame at all? That's fuckin' disgusting. And you got the nerve to prance around calling yourself a follower of –”
Finally, Hagarf vomited out what seemed like several gallons of seawater, then started coughing violently. He no doubt felt like complete shit, but he was going to be okay.
Although he was responsible for nearly ending Hagarf's life, Randy felt proud of himself for saving it.
“He's all better now,” Randy called up to Denise. “Pull him up, then throw the rope back down for me.”
“What the hell did you do to him?”
“He was drowning. I gave him the Heimlich maneuver to force the water out of his lungs.”
Denise laughed. “Oh man, I had that all wrong. From up here, it looked like you was buttfuckin' him.”
“Hey, man,” said Randy. “It's kinda cold in here. Would you mind hurrying this up a little?”
Denise nodded. “I'm really angry.”
Hagarf's coughing started to subside. He turned his head back to look at Randy. “You! You crushed my testicles!”
“Sorry 'bout that,” said Randy. “I was just lookin' out for my friend is all.” He nodded up to Denise, who had just transformed into an extremely niche porn category. Her breasts were like water balloons poking out from huge pectoral muscles. Her legs were like the Incredible Hulk's, if he were a lot shorter and played a lot more tennis. Her hoo-ha looked like it could crush a grown man's arm if he could manage to get it through that dark forest of Brillo.
Hargarf looked up as he got lifted out of the water. “What is that? No! Someone help me!”
Without Hargarf and the rope there to hold onto, Randy found himself having more trouble treading water than he felt he should, even taking his boots into account.
“What... What's going... on?” he said, ineffectively slapping at the water. “Why... can't I... swim?” It didn't make any sense. He'd always known how to swim, ever since he was a kid. It had been a few years since he'd last done it, but that wasn't the sort of thing one loses completely due to lack of practice. It wasn't like he was trying to compete in the Olympics. He was only trying to tread water. “Denise!” he shouted, stretching his neck to avoid submerging completely. “Helgbbllggglblbl!” His cry for help came out mostly as bubbles.
Kicking his boots off as quickly as he could, he thought it odd how calm and rational he was being, and how unafraid he was of what he imagined was a horrible way to die.
His boots off, he pointed his feet downward and kicked his legs forward and back while cupping his hands and trying to push himself up through the water. The effort was enough to break the surface, but not by much. Reasoning that Denise was well aware that he was down there, it seemed wiser to suck in as much air as his lungs could hold than to expel air calling for help again.
Randy continued to kick and flap his arms, but though his efforts might have been slowing his descent, they weren't stopping it. He was underwater and sinking deeper.
He looked around, hoping he might see a pretty fish before he died. Then he considered that, since he was in a fantasy world, he might be short-changing himself by hoping for a fish, no matter how pretty it was. What if there were mermaids out here
? Wouldn't that be something to see!
But he saw neither fish nor mermaid. Just an endless expanse of blue-green water and the barnacle-dotted hull of the Maiden's Voyage.
Glancing upward to have one last look at the surface, he spotted some strange movement. The waves were jostling the surface too much to make out a clear picture, but it almost looked as though a person was... No, that couldn't be.
Katherine's face broke through the surface, her blonde hair fanning out in the water like a halo. She wasn't swimming, but rather crawling along the side of the ship's hull.
“Katherine?” Randy tried to say, but it came out in a cluster of bubbles.
Katherine reached out to him, saying something in response that might have been, “Take my hand, you dumb fucking redneck!” Or it might have been something nicer. Randy was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. He gave one last flap of his arms, then stretched his left arm toward Katherine's, just managing to hook his fingertips on hers.
She flattened herself against the hull as she pulled in her fingertips, then let go suddenly and made a grab for Randy's wrist. Once she had a firm grip, she pulled him toward her slowly and carefully, as if her strange ability to cling to the hull was compromised by his weight pulling her away from it.
Placing his hand on the waistband of her jeans, she gave him a warning glare, which either mean that he shouldn't try anything funny, or that he shouldn't think that she was trying anything funny.
Randy guessed that Katherine was better able to crawl with both hands free and she was providing something other than her hand for him to hold onto. He nodded and dug his fingers in between her jeans and left butt cheek. Now that he was in there, it felt inappropriate enough so that he could understand her having given him that look.
Once Randy's grip was secure, Katherine started crawling slowly to the surface. Randy was getting close to his breaking point as far as holding his breath was concerned. His lungs wanted filling, and he wasn't going to be able to keep from sucking in for very much longer.