Title

by Stanley, Jacob

  “I’m not upset with you or anything,” said Simone, trying to soften her tone. “I just don’t really need a servant. But I might need a translator, and I might need somebody to show me around.”

  “Of course.”

  Simone thought of inviting the girl to stay in the room with her, and then decided she just couldn’t stand that. It would be too awkward to have someone she didn’t know staring at her all day, with no privacy.

  No way.

  She considered the problem briefly, and came up with what seemed like a workable solution. “Can you have somebody bring you a chair,” she said, “and just wait outside my door in case I need something, at least for a few hours?”

  The girl shook her head, and said, “I don’t need a chair, Your Highness.”

  Which made Simone feel like a total bitch.

  “If you’re not gonna bring a chair,” she replied, “then we can just forget about the whole thing. I’m won’t be responsible for forcing you to stand around all day, hurting your feet and stuff, while I’m in here rolling in the lap of luxury like some kind of empress.”

  “Very well, I can have the men bring a chair.”

  “Great. Get yourself a chair, bring a book to read or something. Just relax out there… Is there anyone else here who speaks decent English who could fill in for you later? You can’t just stay here all day, but I might need somebody at any time.”

  “I can stay as long as you like.”

  “So there’s no one else?”

  “There are a few who speak Anglikt. They can understand English to an extent if someone speaks slowly. I’m not sure if you’ll be able to understand them, however.”

  Simone sighed. “Guess that’ll have to do. Find two or three, figure out a schedule. Rotating shifts to cover the rest of the day. If I need somebody with really good English, I guess I can get one of them to send for you.”

  “Of course, and I’ll make sure you have someone here around the clock, in case you need anything?”

  “I probably won’t want anyone at night.”

  “It’s no trouble at all. In fact, I could sleep in here with you if you’d like. I will bring a blanket and sleep in the corner.”

  “Absolutely not. Just set up a rotation with three or four people during the day. That’ll be fine.”

  “As you wish.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “I am Meera.”

  “Okay Meera.” Simone offered her hand. “You can call me Simone.”

  The girl looked at the hand, a stunned expression plastered on her face, then she knelt, took Simone’s wrist gently, and kissed her on the knuckles.

  4 - Lyin' Eyes

  Once they’d cleared out, Simone considered trying on some of the new clothes.

  But then she couldn’t bring herself to, and not because of some psychological resistance to covering herself up either.

  I'm filthy, she thought. I've been wandering around in the woods barefoot, fighting people, sweating, bleeding. And I apparently have a weird musky scent now. Anything that touches my skin at this moment is gonna instantly become disgusting.

  And anyway, didn't she even care about her fucking hygiene anymore? If she were still sane and normal, it seemed like her desperate need for a shower would've occurred to her ages ago. Sure, things had been tense, and she was going through something really crazy, but still...

  - - -

  The bath turned out to be easier to work than the toilette. There were simply two levers positioned above accompanying spigots that emerged from the wall. One put out hot water, the other cold. Unfortunately since each water source had its own spigot rather than merging together like a normal tub, it was tricky to get the temperature just right, but she did the best she could and ended up with water that was reasonably comfortable.

  There was a little bucket hanging on the wall above the tub with a waxy black cube wrapped in brown paper that smelled kind of like flowers. She decided it must be soap, and when she tried it out, she got the expected suds and it made the grime go away.

  When she finished the bath, she used a white towel hanging from a ring on the wall to dry off. Then she stepped out onto the tiles, and stood there in the steamy warmth, feeling incredibly refreshed.

  And strong.

  And alive.

  Her body, from an overall health standpoint, had never felt so perfect. There were no aches, there was no fatigue. She felt like she could run for miles without stopping and never even break a sweat. She felt like she could pick up a large man and throw him 20 feet.

  There are upsides to this, she thought. Feeling like a bona fide super-woman all the time, the relative lack of fear, people calling me Highness…

  Even after just a short time walking in this body, it was already hard to imagine going back to just being a regular person again.

  - - -

  Simone spent a few extra minutes in front of the mirror with the towel, drying her strange hair, which seemed to naturally shed water, almost like plastic. Another upside, I guess.

  Afterward, she started back toward the bedroom, a spring in her step, feeling 10 times better—as if she’d gained an entirely new perspective on her situation—now that she was clean and fresh…

  And then she noticed something out of the corner of her eye—a flash of red near the floor in the area behind the toilette, up against the wall. She tilted her head to look fully at the spot, and then froze in place, staring dumbfounded, bile rising up in her stomach.

  It was a crumpled bag of pale white skin, tubular in shape with little ridges on it. It was flattened out on the ground like a balloon that had burst. There were smears of blood all over the floor surrounding the thing, and she saw footprints in the blood—strange footprints, almost human, but with three long clawed toes like a bird's talons.

  The emptied sack of flesh was instantly familiar.

  It’s that motherfucking worm!

  She walked a few steps closer and bent over at the waist to get a better look at the disgusting thing.

  Is this really here? she wondered. Or am I just seeing things again.

  She managed to stifle a squeamish reluctance, and stretched one hand out tentatively to touch the thing, but her fingers passed right through, and she felt nothing at all.

  Not real then. Just another hallucination, like I’ve always had.

  The thought would’ve been comforting if she really believed it, but now that she was in this place; now that she’d experienced all the things she’d experienced recently, she just couldn’t buy that bullshit anymore. And especially not in this situation. There were lots of very logical reasons for her to begin doubting her old hallucination theory, but at the core, in this particular case, it all boiled down to a gut feeling. This thing happening, right now, was something different. She literally felt like she was being stalked.

  She turned her attention to the bird-like footprints. They were randomly scattered all over the place in a way that made it tough to figure out what was going on with them, but one particular trail led out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and right up to the exit.

  She went through the bedroom to the door, opened it enough to peek out at the hallway, expecting to see more prints heading in one direction or the other. But all she found was the maid, Meera, who was sitting there dutifully in a little chair, reading a book.

  The woman looked up, “Do you need something, Your Highness?”

  “Did you see anybody come out of here?”

  She shook her head.

  “Did the door open?”

  The maid shook her head again, “There was no one.”

  Simone sighed. “Okay, thanks.”

  She closed the door, turned back towards the bathroom, and saw that the footprints in her floor were gone.

  This is all starting to have a familiar ring…

  She went back into the bathroom, not frantic at all anymore, and wasn't the least bit surprised to find that the floor was now empty and clean—no
sign whatsoever of the discarded skin-sack.

  There one second. Gone the next.

  Yeah right.

  She couldn't see a mess in the floor, but she felt sure it was there anyway.

  5 - Split

  Just keep on pretending you’re crazy, she told herself. It’s the right attitude. Makes everything so much easier.

  And besides, what could she do about it? Maybe there was a gigantic worm—or, more likely, some monster that’d crawled out of a worm’s skin. And maybe it was watching her, standing right behind her shoulder at this very moment.

  Breathing on her…

  Gotta stop thinking about it. No good can come of this.

  Distraction was the key. When her hallucinations were acting up, it was important to distract herself. These may not actually be hallucinations (they’re NOT! Definitely NOT) but, it seemed to her, the principle was the same.

  Unfortunately there wasn’t a damn thing in here that would make a good distraction. She would kill for a book, or a movie. Even a video game would do.

  She wandered back into the bedroom, and her eyes roamed from wall to wall, looking for anything that might occupy her attention.

  The only thing that stood out was the clothes rack.

  She sighed. “Might as well…”

  Now that she’d cleaned herself up, there really was no excuse to avoid it anymore.

  She crossed the room and went through the garments, one by one, feeling irritated that there wasn’t anything with a hood to hide her face.

  All she had, unfortunately, were a bunch of different dresses—lots of cuts and styles.

  She ended up picking the simplest thing she could find—a knee-length dress made of dark blue silk with ivory trim. It was beautiful, but also basic, and the color didn't knock her eyes out.

  The fit was just about perfect, which was quite impressive considering Camilla, or someone else, must’ve just estimated her size.

  Simone went back into the bathroom, trying not to think about the gruesome mess that was ABSOLUTELY STILL THERE, regardless of whether she could see it or not, and then crossed the tiles, avoiding that particular spot as she went to check herself in the mirror.

  She stood tall, and turned to examine herself from a couple different angles.

  She thought she looked pretty alright. For a monster woman.

  She went back into her room, sat on the edge of the bed and wondered again when Camilla would show up. It was beyond improper at this point. The girl was being rude as fuck. Simone had enough self-awareness to realize she probably deserved the cold shoulder, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

  Maybe I should just go out and take a walk or something, get out of this fucking room. They call me Highness here, and kiss my knuckles and shit. What am I afraid of?

  At this point, after everything she’d seen this morning, staying in here was just putting her on edge. Might be nice to stretch her legs a little, look at something besides these four walls, and get to know the layout of the pyramid better.

  - - -

  Meera offered to go with her as a guide, but Simone told her to stay put. “I’ll be back shortly, just want to have a look around the place.”

  “Yes Highness, anything you wish, but…” The girl trailed off, looking at the floor. Obviously there was something else she wanted to say, but was afraid to do so.

  “What is it?” pressed Simone.

  “Well… the head of the service staff, Mister Handel… He asked me to pass along a question to you, if you don’t mind.”

  “Ask away.”

  “Thank you, Highness. Mister Handel was wondering, are you planning to make any remarks this afternoon? To the gathered people?”

  “What people?”

  “Some people are here. Or that’s what I’ve heard. I think they’ve come in hopes of hearing you speak, or seeing you.”

  “Oh.”

  That didn’t sound very appealing at all.

  Meera waited expectantly for some kind of answer.

  Simone, feeling entirely unsure how to respond to such a development, finally said, “Honestly, I got nothing to say to anybody. You guys can send these folks away if you want. Or you can just let them wait around. No big deal, either way. If I don't come out and talk after a while, they'll probably get the idea on their own and split.”

  Meera nodded. “I’ll pass your words to Mister Handel.”

  “Great. I’ll be back pretty soon, but you can take a break if you want, go wander around or use the bathroom or something.”

  The woman lowered her head. “As you wish. I’ll wander about for a while and… and use the privy, and then return.”

  “It’s not an order,” said Simone. “Just do what you want.”

  The woman nodded. “Whatever you desire, Highness.”

  The subservience was totally over the top, and it was starting to make Simone’s skin crawl.

  Time to go.

  She turned her back on the maid, uttered something that was—hopefully—polite over her shoulder, and made a quick exit before the woman could do anything else to make her feel like some kind of big-shot domineering asshole.

  PART 2 - CELESTIAL SHARDS

  1 - Walk

  Vivienne leaned most of her weight against Malcolm as they left the site of the great stone egg, and the syrupy red pool that had given rise to her, walking together down the massive stairway that was embedded into the mountainside.

  Both of them were covered in blood that smelled of honey and roses and every other kind of sweet and wonderful thing.

  She was wearing his coat, which he had offered so she could cover herself, and it hung nearly to her knees.

  She didn't speak, not a single word. She just stared ahead with a haunted look in her eyes, clinging to him for support. There were pale streaks in the blood on her face—her skin showing through, washed clean by the tears she'd shed earlier.

  The little drone stayed a short distance ahead of them, hovering about 10 feet in the air. Malcolm, after confirming that the spiraling reality distortion that’d trapped him here was gone, had instructed the creature to guide them back to his van.

  He wasn't sure of the time but it had to be getting close to sunrise.

  Have to sleep soon. Can't keep going much longer, no matter how much I need to...

  He ached all over with fatigue, and his muscles trembled. Vivienne's weight pressing against him didn't help matters, but after what she'd been through she had to feel much worse than he did, so he didn’t mind enduring it.

  When they finally reached the bottom of the steps, his balance wavered. It felt like the earth beneath his feet was alive and had begun trying to shake him loose.

  He ignored the sensation, and continued following the drone as it flitted through the darkness. The country around him seemed strange. He was almost sure he hadn't passed any of this stuff on the way in.

  He wondered how far they were from the van.

  Hopefully not very far.

  - - -

  They'd been walking for about 20 minutes when he realized the caked blood all over his body was evaporating. His hands were clean, his hair no longer sticky.

  He looked at Vivienne, who had recovered enough to start supporting her own weight a short time before, and saw that there was no blood on her either. He started to ask her why, but then decided it could wait. She didn't seem to be in the mood to answer questions.

  With the blood gone, the pleasant smell was less noticeable. Now mostly he smelled his own sweat, and that just served to remind him of how tired he was.

  Has to be one of the longest, hardest days of my life, he thought.

  Perhaps he would've just collapsed if the walk had continued much longer, but then he heard a car engine off in the distance, which meant the road was nearby—they were almost back. The knowledge gave him a burst of energy, and he stepped a little faster. Vivienne did the same, though her face remained blank.

  - - -

  When they got
back to the van, Malcolm opened up the rear, dug into his suitcase and gave her some of his clothes to wear—a pair of gray cargo pants, a flannel button-up shirt with black and white checks, and a pair of knee-high socks.

  The parking area behind the old closed-down store seemed a secluded enough spot, so he just turned his back to give her a little privacy, and she changed right there.

  The garments were comically oversized of-course, and he didn't have a pair of extra shoes to offer her, but she took the clothes gratefully anyway, or at least she didn’t complain.

  Actually she said nothing at all.

  He mentally gave the drone permission to resume its original task—searching for the Ogre woman—then climbed in the van.

  Vivienne didn’t follow. She just stood out in the morning air, acting as if she were lost.

  He reached across, opened the passenger door, and urged her to get inside.

  She looked at him a moment as if confused, then climbed in, and just sat there, staring out the front windshield, her eyes unfocused.

  No one spoke for more than a minute. Then finally he asked, "Where to?"

  She answered without looking at him, her accent bland and generically American, her voice weak and barely audible, "We have to rest. You and I both. And I need clothes. Find a place where we can hole up for a while."

  2 - Out of Water

  Vivienne was shivering slightly, so he turned on the heater, and the sound of the little electric motor provided a gray hum that filled the interior of the van, giving them an excuse to absorb themselves in their own private silences.

  He drove for 10 minutes, sort of aimlessly, before he spotted an old rusty sign on the left side of the road with bullet-holes in it, advertising an establishment called the “East-Side Motel.”