Cyclops Road

by Jeff Strand

  I suppose I could also try to jab this into its groin. However, its groin could be as invulnerable as the rest of it, while its eye is probably a lot softer.

  I take a few steps back so that I can get a running start. Then I race toward the Cyclops, try to become one with my inner gymnast, and leap into the air as I thrust the broken ski pole toward the eye of the beast.

  I strike it in the chin.

  Again, I'm sure this doesn't create a pleasant tingling sensation, but it doesn't seem to have any real effect on the Cyclops. It swings Maraud and Harriett again, and this time I'm right in-between them.

  I fail to dodge this.

  It doesn't break any bones when they hit—at least, not any of mine—but it knocks the wind out of me and I fall to the ground.

  I realize that Jeannie is running toward the Cyclops. Somehow she's acquired a pair of hedge clippers. To be honest, she looks scary and deranged as she slams the blades against its back.

  I can't see what happened, if the metal actually went through its skin, but the clippers drop to the ground as Jeannie takes several steps back, empty-handed.

  The Cyclops lets go of Harriett. She lands on top of me.

  I'm not quite ready to just lie there and weep, though I'm getting close. I don't want to get up again. I wish that a transparent Becky would hover over me, Jedi style, and offer up words of encouragement, but I think the only encouragement I will receive is the knowledge that if I don't scoot out of the way, the Cyclops will stomp on my head.

  I scoot out of stomping-on-head range. Harriett, who seems barely conscious, follows me.

  The Cyclops tosses Maraud over its shoulder like Santa with his bag of toys, then turns and runs away with him. Apparently it's as tired of taking abuse as we are. There are no gashes, such as those from having a pair of hedge clippers jammed through the skin, on its back. Maraud is struggling, but not enough to knock the Cyclops off-balance.

  "Come back here!" I shout. Not only is it a lame thing to shout, but my voice is so weak that even if the Cyclops were inclined to comply with my request, it wouldn't be able to hear it.

  I just want to close my eyes and go to sleep, but no, our friend is being taken away to be eaten. Got to get up.

  Harriett gets up first and helps me to my feet.

  The number of spectators has doubled. "We need somebody to help us," Jeannie calls out. "We have to chase that thing and save our friend."

  Nobody volunteers.

  "Or just give us your car keys," I say.

  Nobody volunteers for that, either. The fight was a draw, but we just kicked some pretty serious Cyclops ass, so I think we could intimidate somebody into parting with his or her car with very little effort.

  Instead, the sheriff's car drives up to us. I can't prove that Sheriff McGarnet was waiting for the Cyclops to leave before she drove over here, but the timing is suspicious.

  She rolls down her window. "Didn't do so well, did you?"

  "Bite me" feels like an appropriate response, but I desperately want McGarnet's help, so I'm not going to be antagonistic. "We need you to follow it," I tell her.

  McGarnet shrugs. "Hop in."

  Harriett, Jeannie, and I get into her car. She could, conceivably, take this opportunity to zap us with her stun gun again and return us to the sacrificial totem poles, but I'll predict a less gloomy future.

  "It's got our friend," I say. "Please hurry."

  McGarnet drives in the direction that the Cyclops went, which isn't the same direction as the park, so I think we're in good shape as far as avoiding future sacrifice attempts. "You can't kill it," she says.

  "Yes, we can," Harriett says. "If all of us go after it, you, me, the townspeople, all of us, we can destroy it for good."

  "You don't think we tried? You don't think we went after that thing like an angry mob? We tried everything. We used guns, all the explosives we had; hell, we tried to fling a cactus at it! It can't be killed. It can't be trapped."

  "I disagree," says Harriett.

  "Disagree all you want. We finally hit a point where we decided that it was better to let the Cyclops take one of us every once in a while than lose dozens of people in another failed attempt to kill it. You know how we could have freed ourselves? By following the prophecy. We had a solution, but these people were too stubborn to trust me. And, no, I don't expect you to feel sorry for me. I'm just giving you the truth."

  Harriett holds up her wrist, showing her the bracelet. "We can kill it. I've got a drop of poison in here that will destroy it."

  McGarnet glances at the bracelet, then returns her attention to the street, looking unimpressed. "One whole drop, huh? Wow, the Cyclops is fucked."

  "It won't be easy to administer. That's why we need everybody's help."

  "Sorry, but your information doesn't match mine, so I'll be damned if I'm going to rally up my citizens to be slaughtered. If you want to have a go at it, be my guest. I'll even let you borrow my megaphone. But I had this problem solved. You're not going to convince me that your little drop of arsenic or whatever invalidates the prophecy."

  "We don't have time to gather an angry mob," I say. "Not if we're going to save Maraud."

  "Sheriff, I understand your point of view," says Harriett. "I have my own prophecy, but why can't they both be right? Maybe you did the correct thing by trying to sacrifice us. Maybe that would have worked just fine. That doesn't mean ours won't work. We encountered another man who was following his own Cyclops-themed prophecy, and if his version had worked out my companions and I would be dead and would never have even reached your town. Please, we have to go after our friend, but I need you to gather the people of this town, prepare them to fight."

  McGarnet doesn't answer for a moment, but then she nods. "I'll see what I can do."

  "Thank you."

  "So I'm going to play Devil's Advocate for a second," I say. "This is purely a Devil's Advocate situation. I'm not suggesting any course of action. But somebody should throw out the idea that we wait to gather our resources before we go after the Cyclops again."

  "And leave Maraud to die?" asks Jeannie.

  "Yes, that's pretty much what I'm saying. Which is why I emphasized the whole Devil's Advocate thing. I'm not saying that's what we should do. I'm saying that somebody should say it out loud so that we know we at least reviewed our options."

  "I understand," says Harriett. "And it is undoubtedly the wiser course of action. But I don't feel that it's the right one. We have to try to save Maraud."

  "Good," I say. "I agree. Just wanted to make sure we weren't all secretly thinking something different."

  McGarnet turns a corner, and we can see that the street continues for a few more blocks, then ends at the mouth of a large cave. The Cyclops is almost there, still holding Maraud over its shoulder.

  "Can you go any faster?" I ask.

  "Do you want to bend down and push my foot harder against the gas pedal? Be my guest."

  The Cyclops runs into the cave and disappears from sight.

  The homes we speed past don't have any vehicles in the front yard or any evidence that anybody lives there. Presumably, nobody wants to live near the Cyclops cave. I sure wouldn't.

  As we reach the final block, I can see open desert on each side of the cave, as if the town of Rapport just stops. The cave itself is about the size of a small house. It doesn't seem like it would be that hard to just fling a couple of sticks of dynamite in there and blow the whole thing up.

  McGarnet stops in front of the cave. She doesn't shut off the car engine, so I'm pretty sure she's prepared to speed away if the Cyclops peeks its head out. "The cave is bigger than you think," she says.

  "Has anybody ever come out of there alive?" asks Jeannie.

  "Yes."

  "Oh, good. That's not what I thought you were going to say."

  "Only because nobody has reached the end. They've all eventually given up and turned back. But, hey, it's your prophecy, so see what you can do."

  Harrie
tt, Jeannie and I get out of the car. I can see only darkness within the cave.

  "Let's not wait," says Harriett. "Our friend needs help."

  "I don't know that I'd even necessarily call him a friend," I say. "I'm not dissing him. Just trying not to be melodramatic. Fellow traveler, maybe."

  "Fellow hero."

  "I don't think we get to be called heroes if we all die before we can kill the Cyclops."

  "Of course we do."

  "If you say so."

  "I do."

  "Cool."

  "We're procrastinating."

  "You're right." I turn back to McGarnet. "Thanks for the ride. Like Harriett said, if you can rally the troops, that would be awesome."

  McGarnet says nothing.

  We step into the cave. For a few moments we're in total darkness, but then the darkness thins out like clearing fog and we're walking along a stone path in broad daylight. There's no sign of the Cyclops and Maraud. Except for the path, there's empty desert all around us.

  The path seems to stretch forward into infinity.

  "I'll run as fast as I can," Jeannie promises, "but it's been a long time since I was speedy."

  "No," says Harriett. "This path isn't about speed. It's about focus. We need to walk." She frowns. "At least, that's what I'm feeling. I could be wrong."

  "We'll trust you," I say.

  "We'll walk quickly, of course."

  We walk the path in silence for about five minutes. The path can't really stretch out into infinity, I hope, but it kind of feels like we're walking on a treadmill. There's nothing distinct in the desert scenery, but I watch a specific rock to make sure we're actually moving, and the rock does indeed get closer as we approach, so that's something.

  "How long do you think this can last?" I ask Harriett.

  "As you know, I'm better with direction than distance. I have no idea."

  "Maybe the Cyclops doesn't venture out very often because it's such a long walk."

  "It's possible."

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, we're still walking and there's been no change.

  "We should have brought some water," says Jeannie.

  "Yeah," I say. "When she said that the cave was bigger than we think, I assumed she meant that it went underground or something. We didn't really prepare for this."

  "We haven't really prepared for much of anything," says Harriett. "Look where it's gotten us."

  "Are you being optimistic or cynical?" I ask.

  "Optimistic."

  "I wasn't sure. We've had our share of stumbling blocks."

  "I know. It's been rough. Heroes have fallen. But we're pursuing the Cyclops to its lair, which is exactly where we want to be right now."

  "You're right," I say, although I'm not sure I agree. If she's staying upbeat, even if she's faking it, I don't want to bring things down by talking about how Seth got ripped apart. We'll have plenty of time to properly mourn him when this is all over.

  * * *

  Now I think we've been walking for an hour, and I'm terrified. What if the Cyclops has been gnawing on Maraud this whole time? The whole idea was to save him, and we may very well reach the end of the path with no reinforcements and a dead friend.

  All of our plans suck.

  And although I enjoy a nice stroll, this desert sun is brutal. We're all drenched in sweat. Jeannie is definitely suffering. She's doing an admirable job of keeping up, but she can't do this for much longer.

  A few minutes later, she stumbles.

  I grab Jeannie by the arm to steady her. She thanks me quietly and wipes some perspiration from her forehead.

  "You should turn back," says Harriett.

  "I can't quit on you."

  "We don't know how long this is going to continue. It might go on for hours. It might go on forever. Evan and I will be fine."

  Jeannie shakes her head. "It's not right."

  "Perishing from heatstroke and exhaustion isn't right. You can't kill a Cyclops if you're dead. Turn back. We may need you later."

  "Ten more minutes," says Jeannie. "If we're not there by then, I'll go back, I promise."

  "That's ten minutes added to your return. Shriveled corpses do nothing for us. It's all right, Jeannie."

  "You slammed a pair of garden shears into a Cyclops's back," I tell her.

  "They didn't hurt it."

  "Still, that's way more than most people did today."

  Jeannie looks heartsick, but finally nods. "When you get back, I'll be waiting with the biggest bottle of champagne they've got."

  "It's a deal," says Harriett.

  Jeannie gives her a big hug, then gives me a hug with a bonus kiss on the cheek. "Good luck. You'll be fine. Both of you."

  She smiles, though it's the smile of a woman who is ready to pass out, and turns around. I have to admit that I'm not convinced that she's going to make it all the way back. It's really going to spoil the celebratory mood if we return with a Cyclops's heart in our pocket but have to step over Jeannie's dead body.

  She turns around, walks a few steps, and then vanishes.

  Harriett and I look at each other. "Real or hallucination?" I ask.

  "Real."

  "Wow. Faster to get back, then."

  "Appears that way."

  "Good to know."

  We pick up our pace. "I lied to her," says Harriet.

  "When?"

  "When I told her that she couldn't kill a Cyclops if she was dead. If the Cyclops devoured her, and she had the poison in her, I assume this would kill it."

  "Morbid."

  "So that you're not shocked if it happens, I just want you to be aware that, if it comes to it, I will be using myself as the vessel of the poison."

  "Excuse me?"

  "I know you understand what I'm trying to say."

  "You're going to purposely let the Cyclops eat you?"

  "Not as our primary strategy. It won't be anywhere near the top of the list. I'm simply preparing you for the possibility that this may be the only way to win. If that's the case, I won't hesitate to take drastic measures."

  "Don't kill yourself, Harriett."

  "It's a last resort."

  "Don't do it as any resort. You didn't bring that monster here. It's not your fault that it has killed people, and it's not your fault if it kills more. The residents of Rapport seem like perfectly nice people, but you don't have to die for them. Screw that."

  "It's my fault that it killed Seth. I'm the one who started him on this journey."

  "He came willingly. I mean, he even got emotional about it. We can worry about the technicalities about who's responsible for his death later. For now, all I'm saying is, don't eat the poison. Seriously. I'll try to stop you if I see that happening."

  "You'll fail."

  "Maybe. Probably. I'll still try."

  "That's reasonable," says Harriett.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  We continue walking.

  "I wonder if this is why my parents wanted me to walk all the way across the country?" Harriett says. "To prepare me for this final test."

  "It's not the final test. We still have a Cyclops to kill."

  "You know what I mean."

  "I guess that could be what they were thinking. I think the car idea was much better."

  "Me too."

  "Maybe the prophecy said something about a long walk, and they confused that with walking all the way from Florida to Arizona."

  "The prophecy does indeed say something about a long walk. Your theory is plausible."

  "Prophecies are annoying. If you need a task to be completed, just provide step-by-step instructions and give us all of the necessary information to be successful. Think how much more the prophecy-writers could have accomplished if they weren't so damn vague."

  "Or if there weren't competing prophecies," says Harriett.

  "Yeah. Poor Reggie."

  The sun is beating down on us without mercy. I'm starting to envy Jeannie. She's probably sipping a
n ice-cold glass of lemonade right now, lying in a hammock, and listening to relaxing music. Bitch.

  "What if this goes on for days?" I ask.

  "They'll be very long days."

  "But we won't make it. Unless we come up to an oasis, and I haven't even seen a mirage of one of those, we'll die of thirst."

  "We're not going to die. We can turn back whenever we want, apparently."

  "Do you think we'd lose our spot? If we turned back and grabbed some supplies, would we have to start all over, or would we be back here?"

  "I don't know."

  "I guess we can't take the risk of losing our progress."

  "Not if we care about Maraud."

  "Unfortunately, we do."

  We walk, and walk, and walk some more, and continue walking, and walk, and walk, and, yes, do a little more walking, and walk, and complain about walking, and walk, and walk. And I hate to say it, but I'm almost at the quitting point. If there was a sign by the side of the road that read, Cyclops's Lair - 1 Mile, I'd be fine, but I can't do hours more of this. And as strong as she is, Harriett doesn't look like she's faring so well, either. Though she'll never purposely give up, she's going to do a face-plant onto the path before too much longer, and end her journey as vulture carrion.

  "Are we there yet?" I ask.

  "Obviously, we are not."

  "I know. It was a joke."

  "Not your finest."

  "My brain is cooking in my skull. You're lucky you even got that."

  "I appreciate it, then. I am most fortunate."

  "That's sarcasm. Wow. You've changed."

  "No," says Harriett. "I was sarcastic shortly after we met for the first time."

  "What did you say?"

  "I asked if you needed anesthesia before you watched me sew up my own wound."

  "That's right. You sure did."

  "I believe I was sarcastic at various other moments, too. It's one of my personality flaws."

  "Nah, it's okay." My vision blurs for an instant, but I don't stop walking. I can do this. I've come too far to wuss out just because I'm hot and tired. I can do this. I can definitely do this. I am awesome. Awesome. Truly awesome. "Maraud better appreciate this."

  "I'm sure he will," says Harriett. "Though not demonstrably."