His eyes are hard, but he doesn’t approach.
If he won’t come to me, I’ll come to him. I take a few sauntering steps in his direction, holding the stone plainly in my palm.
He looks at the stone and subtly shifts his weight on his feet. “What are you planning?”
So this is what it looks like when Tedrin is afraid of someone. I heft the stone experimentally, and am shocked to feel it get heavier as I move it up and down. “Helloooo,” I mumble, staring at it, moving it faster.
Sure enough, as I move the stone, it gains weight — or mass? — and its glow increases. Now I’m sure I’m going to sneeze, and the flesh of my left wrist is crawling. I let the stone rest in my palm, and it immediately goes back to an ‘inert’ level of mass and glow.
A plan would be good right now. I guess ‘kill Tedrin’ can take the top slot again. I deserve some catharsis. After that, I’ll go back through a portal and save the world. After that . . . Do they give out Nobel Prizes for stopping alien invasions? I’ll check later.
I start toward Tedrin, only to find that he’s gone. (Shit! I’m sure I was only distracted for half a second!) I freeze, looking all around, egg clutched tight.
Shuffle behind me. I swing around in time to see Tedrin picking up the shotgun from the ground at the base of the pedestal. “Fucking stupid amateur mistake,” I mutter, and dodge hard to the side. My legs pump smoothly; suddenly I’m a yard to the right.
BLAM
A round tears through the air where I was standing a microsecond before. He chambers another round, already moving, dodging.
I start to come after him, then think better of it and back up. He’s pointing the gun at me, but as long as I’m moving, he’s paranoid about wasting a round. He’s not used to the gun, and until he gets the stone away from me, there’s no way for him to attack with his bare hands, the way he prefers.
I can’t let him damage my right arm. The moment needles penetrate it, I won’t be able to carry the stone. There are possibilities at that point, but they complicate things. I sure as hell can’t give it to Ron; considering her ‘punching metal’ training, she’s thorns all the way up to the elbows. I’d have to get the stone back to Earth somehow and find a human willing to wield it. Or maybe the military will take it. Whatever, as long as they use it to stop the invasion and agree to protect me from Tedrin, it doesn’t matter.
The pedestal is between us. We stop to rest like that, each unable to see the other.
“We can keep this up until Veronica inevitably orders us to stop fighting,” Tedrin calls dryly.
I snicker, eyes roving the area, trying to think of a game plan. “Will we?”
“Not as long as you’re trying to kill me.”
“Hey, I’m not the one with the gun.”
“You were until thirty seconds ago.” Pause. “Now you have something worse.”
I heft the stone. “This from the guy who, eight hours ago, politely requested I use it on him.”
“I changed my mind.”
All at once, I’m hyper-aware of a shift in my personality. This time yesterday, I’d have been calling for a cease-fire so we could go back to Earth and stop innocent people from dying. That voice still cries out from somewhere in my chest, but she’s being drowned out by a bloodthirsty growl deep in my head, by eyes that want so badly to see Tedrin at my feet, torn apart, obliterated by my new weapon. I feel fluid, adaptive, vicious. I feel like I’ve let go of the steering wheel and now the cold steel is driving itself.
I swallow hard. “We could stop this right now, or at least put it on hold.”
“I can’t trust you that far.”
“Feeling’s mutual.” My mind is spinning. That peace-loving impulse is fighting harder, clawing up through deep, dark thickets of spines, begging in one long, high shriek to stop making this huge mistake.
The deer stand.
Emotions like black water well up from my chest faster than that previous self can climb, and together we are engulfed. I burn from head to toe, except the hand clenched around the stone, which is cool like river water.
I hear a step in the sand and look up. Tedrin stands with his shoulder pressed to the pedestal, gun aimed at me. The animal in me strains against its bonds, screams as its feet dig into the loam, struggling to run but unable, held back by human indecision.
He slowly lowers the gun until it’s pointing at the ground. “Worst feeling in the world, isn’t it? Indecision, I mean.”
I swallow.
“That’s where I live,” he adds.
The stone is so cold in my grip. I look down at it for a moment, then draw a deep breath. “Do you have . . . Is there a memory you use as a guide?”
“When I woke up this morning, I could hear my mother calling my name.”
I nod, then hesitate. Maybe it’ll sound stupid when I say it out loud.
He watches me expectantly with those dark, flat eyes.
“I remember sitting in a deer stand by myself for hours, just being at peace with myself.” I choke, swallow tears. “It was the happiest d-day of my life.”
His expression doesn’t change, but his shoulders finally relax, rolling down until he’s at ease. “That sounds pretty great.”
I snicker a little, and press my claw-hand’s wrist to my mouth. Something about that makes me giggle. I glance up and find him smirking, shoulders trembling with suppressed mirth.
We’re both so fucked.
I start laughing so hard, I have to sit down. He’s still leaning against the pedestal, and he presses his head back against it, teeth showing as he chuckles. Suddenly we’re both delirious, joining metaphorical hands and diving into the hilarity of our absurdly, science-fictitiously fucked situation.
He sits down at the base of the pedestal and holds up a finger even as he’s giggling helplessly. “The needles.”
“C-Come again?” I laugh.
“Keeping us alive. Stopping the fight.” He grins at me. “They’re like Veronica!”
That sends both of us into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. I’m lying on my side, almost seizing now, both hands pressed to my mouth as I struggle against this delightful coffin of cheer. The stone is lying on the ground next to me somewhere, I’m not sure where.
At last, Ron rumbles to the edge of the clearing on her motorcycle. She cuts the engine and parks it, then starts toward me, looking very pissed. The look on her face sends me into another fit. Her steps slow, and then she stops and looks from one of us to the other. We’re absolutely tickled by this.
“The hell is wrong with you two?” she shrieks.
“Oh, lighten up,” Tedrin tells her, wiping tears of mirth from his cheeks.
“Yeah, it’s just the end of human civilization!” I cackle, and Tedrin throws back his head to laugh. His head hits the pedestal and the laugh becomes a cry of pain.
Ron looks from him to me to him to me, shaking her head. “Y’all need therapy.”
“Understatement of the century,” I tell her, sitting up. My amusement is finally fading. The stone is within reach; I pick it up and spin it between my fingers.
Tedrin gets to his feet, holding the shotgun, but makes no move to aim it.
I come to a stand with the stone ready. He, Ron, and I form a triangle across the barren ground.
Ron crosses her arms. “I’m not even going to ask if you two are going to keep trying to kill each other, because the answer seems to change every thirty seconds.”
Tedrin shakes his head and, to my surprise, tosses the gun to her.
She catches it with both hands and gives him an extremely confused look.
“I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been shot,” he tells us. “And I’ve been dropped off a cliff, attacked by several beasts, lost and regained huge chunks of memory and identity . . . I’m finding it difficult to keep track of who has wronged and hurt me.” He shrugs heavily. “So I won’t.”
I look down at the beautiful stone in my hand. Maybe it’s the needles i
n my head engineering my personality, or maybe I’m tired of fighting, but either way, I find myself agreeing with him.
“This thing is powerful,” I whisper. “Stronger than our infection. It can destroy us, and someday, it probably should.” I suck in a deep breath, then look up at them. “But only if you choose, or if you become so dangerous that innocent people might get hurt.” I look pointedly at him; he nods.
“And you get to be the judge of that?” Ron demands.
“I’m the only one who can carry it.” I roll my eyes at her. “Besides, I’m pretty sure that even with thorns in my head, I’m still the most rational of us.”
She presses her lips together like she does when she doesn’t want to admit I’m right.
I suck in a deep breath. “Ted, you’re a fuckup, but I think a lot of what you’ve done wrong was because you were afraid of being unable to die. Maybe you brought me into this because you knew we could find a way if we worked together.” I hold up the stone. “If you ever lose too much of yourself, or think you’re going to hurt us, or just want to end the pain, we have a way. Until then, do you think you can be more Kazuma and less Tedrin?”
He stares at me for a long moment, then swallows loudly. “I think so,” he whispers.
I set the stone down in the dirt, then approach him. He doesn’t flinch, only watches me. When I’m within arm’s reach, I hold out my human hand to him.
He could crush it in his grasp, rip it open with his teeth, pour needle-blood into the wounds, render me unable to carry the stone. He looks down at my soft fingers and knows it.
He grasps my hand and pumps it once. His skin is almost painfully hot, but his grip is gentle.
Suddenly embarrassed, he clears his throat. “Do you have any water?”
We look to Ron. She watches us, arms crossed, lips pressed together, then sighs and starts digging in her saddle bags. Then she’s bringing us each a plastic bottle, like Demeter bearing the cornucopia. We accept the bottles gratefully, and before I can even get the cap off mine, he’s already chugging his.
“What’s this ‘Kazuma’ thing?” Ron asks, looking back and forth between us.
He comes up for air, already halfway through the bottle. “It’s my name.”
She absorbs that for a moment, then reaches out a hand. “Nice to meet you, K—”
He grasps her hand, yanks her closer to him, and envelopes her in a bear hug. She yelps, then stands awkwardly in his arms, holding the gun at her side. She stares at his shoulder, then over at me.
“I missed you,” he whispers, voice pained. “Please forgive me.” His hand is tight around the water bottle; he’s trying hard not to crush it.
Her mouth opens and shuts a few times, and then she recoils. “Ugh, your shirt is all sticky!”
I laugh my ass off all the way back to the stone.
“First order of business is a change of clothes, then,” Kazuma announces, and takes a gulp of water. “Tearful reunions after.”
“We have to get back to Earth first,” I put in, stashing my half-bottle in a saddle bag and picking up the stone. “I doubt the motorcycle seats three.”
“I’ll jog.” He eyes the stone warily, and backs up a few steps when I approach.
Ron clears her throat and holds up the shotgun. “Want this back?”
I contemplate it for a moment, then shake my head. “It’s yours.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “What?”
I heft the stone. “This is all the protection I’ll need.” I hesitate, then add, “Besides, I only ever got the gun so I could protect you. Maybe it’d be better if you could protect yourself.”
She looks down at the gun, contemplating it, then slips the strap over her shoulder and lets it rest behind her back. Then she steps closer and, careful of the stone, wraps her arms around my shoulders.
I drop the stone to the soft ground — it lets out a little pulse that makes my knees tingle, which is very interesting — and return the hug. “I’m sorry.”
“Sheesh,” she mumbles into my shoulder, “Everybody needs to stop apologizing to me today.”
“I was a dick. I think I said some true things, but I shouldn’t have been such a dick.” As she pulls away, I add, “Definitely shouldn’t have shot you. You can shoot me if you like, make things even.”
She rolls her eyes, then clears her throat, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “We should test out your new weapon. Maybe we can take it back down to the plain? There’s whole herds we could test it on.”
Kazuma looks up sharply. “Herds? I only saw one or two monsters on my way in.”
I wave my weird new hand casually as I retrieve the stone. “Yeah, there’s a big herd of herbivores around here somewhere.”
Ron’s shaking her head. “Not herd, herds. I mean, it’s packed down there.”
I squint in that direction, but the forest blocks my view. “What were they doing?”
“Moving.”
We think about that for a second.
“The portals,” Kazuma whispers.
Ron’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit!”
She and I head for the motorcycle while he shoots off into the woods. “We should stick together!” I yell, but he’s already out of earshot. “Dammit!”
I pause to retrieve my torn backpack from the saddle bags. Most of the contents are ruined or worthless to me, so I empty it on the ground. My printed memoirs flutters to the dust, pages sticky with blood, and I consider retrieving it. But it’s too big to fit in my pockets, and I don’t want to bring it to their attention by putting it in a saddle bag. So I leave it lying in the dirt on an alien world.
Then I tuck the stone into the tiny, frontmost pocket. Working the straps through their plastic guides, I free them from the bottom of the backpack. Now when I hold their ends at arm’s length, the bag dangles almost to the ground. I swing it experimentally in a high arc and immediately feel its weight increase.
Ron, meanwhile, has set the motorcycle upright. The shotgun rests across her back. It looks good on her. Seeing it in her possession eases a tension I didn’t even realize was inside me. When she looks up at me expectantly, I hurriedly mold my expression into anything besides worried mother-hen-hood.
I get on behind her and wrap my left arm around her middle — careful with the claws, wouldn’t want to poke holes in her stomach. I hold the backpack’s straps at arm’s length in my right hand, away from her mostly-needle body. Then we’re tearing downhill, going quite a bit faster than I like, but I don’t want to play backseat driver, so I clamp my teeth down around the gasps of fright fighting their way up out of my chest.
Whenever Ron decides to make a sharp turn around a tree stump, we slide crazily on the leaves. By the time we reach the bottom of the woods, I’m halfway out of my seat, nearly pissing myself in terror. The stone, meanwhile, has become heavier inside the bag; as long as we’re moving, I can barely hold it up. Its glow is hidden, but its power has intensified enough to make my nose itch and my spine crawl.
Ron finally notices the effect and slows to a stop at the bottom of the hill, at the edge of the trees. “Ugh, is that the . . . thing?”
“Yeah, and I think it gets heavier the faster we move.”
“So, stay under thirty?”
“Let’s try fifteen.”
She makes a face but nods, then guns the engine and we’re shooting out into the savannah, through stripes of cold air and hot. My eyes are momentarily squeezed shut in terror; I cling to her for dear life. The stone gets heavier and heavier, and my needle-flesh crawls and then stings and then rages with fire, until I shriek, “Slow down! Slow down!”
Ron obeys, halving our speed, and the stone’s weight becomes manageable again. She scowls over her shoulder at me. “That’s not really too fast, is it? That was like, twenty.”
“I’m telling you, we need to stay under fifteen or it’ll drop right out of my hand. I think it lets out a pulse when you drop it, and since your new hobby is punching holes in sheet metal, I doubt y
our hands would be much use afterward.”
She makes an annoyed sound and continues out into the open at reduced speed. “More than my hands, at this point,” she yells over the wind.
“Do you still—” We ride through a patch of cold air that smacks me in the face, and it takes me a second to center myself. “Do you still have your original head?”
“Well, duh. Why?”
Before I can answer, we come up over the top of a hill and I suck in a shrill gasp. Spread out as far as the eye can see are great herds of creatures of every color and shape. I try to spot familiar species and can’t; at such a distance, they become one huge mass of needles — galloping, spinning, kicking up clumps of grass, filling the air with a surprisingly quiet mix of their lowing, roaring, pushing, shoving, falling, all headed south.
We stop at the top of the hill to stare. The flow of creatures is vanishing through an invisible wall miles wide, stretching as far out into the plains as we can see.
“Those portals weren’t there earlier,” Ron observes. “As in, an hour ago.”
“This is the invasion,” I confirm. “I dunno if somebody opened that wall of portals, or if it just happened because ‘because’, but there it is.”
“Where’s Kazuma?”
“No clue, he took off and I lost track of—”
“I don’t want to go through without him!”
“He’ll find a way,” I tell her firmly. “Get this death-scooter moving; let’s at least die on our own planet.”
“Don’t say that,” but she starts forward.
In a moment, we’re galloping at the edge of an herbivore herd — ah, memories — and I finally have time to admire their elongated, stretching, pounding legs. Someday, when this all blows over, I shall have one for a mighty steed. (I shall have to find a workaround for the pointy bits.)
Ron calls my attention back to the matter at hand. “The city’s going to be a mess!”
“Hey, you don’t know that. Maybe the Army has it in hand.”
“As long as we don’t cross over and find ourselves right in front of a rocket launcher.” She shudders. “What if they carpet-bomb the city? What if they nuke it?”
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