Paths Not Taken n-5

by Simon R. Green

  "I get the feeling," I said finally, "that space in this new Nightside hasn't properly settled down yet. Directions can be arbitrary, and space can actually fold back upon itself. I've heard old stories about that, but it hasn't happened in our Nightside for ages. The Authorities tend to keep such things constant because it's good for business. So... I guess we'd better stick to Tavius's directions exactly, from now on."

  "I would," said Suzie.

  "You're dying to say I told you so, aren't you?"

  "I wouldn't dare."

  We pressed on, following the directions exactly, but we hadn't been walking for ten minutes before we walked right into a trap. We were strolling through a suspiciously deserted square when it suddenly disappeared, and we were Somewhere else. The change hit us like a blow. The air was viciously hot and sticky, and smelled of spoiled meat. The light was dark purple, and when I looked up, I saw a big red sun in a sickly pink sky. And all around us was a jungle made of flesh and blood. It stretched away for miles, trees and bush and hanging lianas, and all of it made of meat. All of it moving, slowly, as it reacted to our sudden presence. Suzie already had her shotgun out and was looking for a target.

  "Is it a Timeslip?" she said, her voice calm and controlled as always.

  "Could be," I said, trying for the same tone. "Some extreme alternative time-line, past or future or... that bloody Tavius! He deliberately didn't tell us, hoping we'd walk right into it!"

  "Ugly bloody place," said Suzie, and I had to agree.

  We were standing in a small clearing, in a jungle made of meat. The huge trees were red and purple, and the large leathery leaves had bones in them. Some of the trees were clearly pregnant, with bulging, distended boles, patterned with dark veins. All the plants were flesh and blood, their pink skins sweating in the furnace heat. The stench of decaying flesh came to me from every direction, carried on the shifting breezes, thick and nasty, leaving an indescribable taste in my mouth. There were flowers, too, great pulpy growths like Technicolor cancers, and here and there roses red as blood stood tall on thorny spines, the crimson petals surrounding mouths stuffed with needle teeth. The roses all turned their heads in our direction, orientating on Suzie and me, and harsh, hissing noises emanated from the roses' mouths. They were talking to each other.

  And beyond and underneath the heavy layers of jungle growth, I could barely make out the blurred forms of ancient, ruined buildings. Old, very old structures, long abandoned by whoever or whatever built them. This was a world where evolution had taken a very different turn. Nature, red in tooth and claw, replaced by nature red in vine and thorn.

  It was an alien landscape, like a different planet, and Suzie and I didn't belong there. I felt... horribly alone. Already some of the meat plants were turning slowly in our direction, and the roses were hissing angrily at each other. Plants like lumps of spoiled liver tore their pink roots out of the dark ground and lurched towards us. Thorned tendrils opened out around them, like some vicious grasping umbrella. Sticky mouths opened in the dark-veined plants. Suzie opened up with her shotgun, fanning it back and forth, and the plants before and around us exploded in gobbets of bloody flesh. A high, keening rose on the air, inhumanly grating, as though the whole jungle was crying out in pain and outrage. A quick glance around showed the jungle pressing in from every direction. Even the great trees were leaning towards and over us. Suzie kept up a steady rate of fire, the noise deafening at close range, but she wasn't even slowing the advance down. The fleshy plants soaked up the punishment and kept coming. Suzie realised she was only wasting ammunition and grabbed for one of the grenades on her belt.

  I decided it was time to step in, before things really got out of hand. I grabbed the nearest rose and yanked it out of the dark ground. It squealed like a pig pulled away from its trough, thrashing its thorny spine about and trying to twist it around my wrist and arm. I held the rose firmly below the flower, took my monogrammed silver lighter out of my coat pocket, and flicked on the flame. The other roses cried out in unison, and the jungle grew very still. I held the flame close to the rose, and the petals shrank away from it.

  "All right," I said. "Back off, or the rose gets it."

  There was a pause, then the whole of the meat jungle fell back perceptibly. They might not understand my words, but they knew what I meant. I looked at Suzie and jerked my head backwards. She checked that the way behind us was clear and nodded. And slowly, step by step, we moved back along the path that had brought us into this awful world. The jungle watched us go, the fleshy leaves quivering with rage. The rose writhed violently in my grasp, fighting to break free, snapping at me with its nasty teeth. And then, suddenly, the purple glare snapped off, replaced by the soothing gloom of the Nightside. We'd retreated back across the border of the Timeslip. The rose let out a howl of anguish, until I slapped it round the petals and shut it up. I stuffed the rose into my coat pocket, and it grew still. I wasn't worried about the rose trying to escape; my coat can look after itself. I took several deep breaths, trying to clear the stench of spoiled meat out of my head.

  "Really ugly place," said Suzie, calm and unruffled as always. She put away her shotgun and looked at me. "How did you figure out the roses were so important?"

  "Easy," I said. "They were the only ones that had a language."

  "Let's go to the Londinium Club," said Suzie. "And face dangers I can understand."

  We followed Tavius's directions exactly, suspicious all the time for further pitfalls, but soon enough we came safely to the Londinium Club. The exterior looked the same as always, only much cleaner. The stone exterior was spotless, gleaming brightly under many lanterns, and the erotic bas-reliefs showed off details so powerful they practically leapt off the wall and mugged you. And there, standing at the stop of the steps and guarding the entrance, was the Doorman. He really was as old as everyone said he was. This time, he wore a simple white tunic, his muscular arms folded firmly across his broad chest. He took one look at Suzie and me, in our battered and blood-stained clothes, and actually came all the way down the steps to block our way more thoroughly. Since reason and kind words were clearly not an option, I reached into my coat pocket, pulled out the rose, and presented it to the Doorman. He accepted it automatically, then cried out in shock and revulsion as the thorny spine wrapped itself around his arm, and the flower went for his face, the teeth snapping at his eyes. He had to use both hands to hold it back. And while he was preoccupied, Suzie and I walked right past him, through the door, and into the lobby, our noses in the air like we belonged there.

  This time, the lobby was all gleaming white tiles, with a huge coloured mosaic covering the entire floor; all of it gleaming new and fresh and shining clean. There were oil-lamps burning eveiy where, filling the lobby with a golden light, so that not a single shadow should spoil the effect. The mosaic on the floor showed the entire pantheon of Roman gods and goddesses doing something so erotic and entangled I was hard-pushed to make sense of it, but it was the mosaic on the ceiling that caught my attention. It was a stylized portrait of a woman's face. My mother's face.

  "I don't care if they are gods," said Suzie. "Some of those proportions can't be correct."

  I drew her attention away from the floor and indicated the face on the ceiling. "That's Lilith," I said. "That's Mommie Dearest. They say she slept with demons and gave birth to monsters."

  Suzie sniffed, conspicuously unimpressed. "Yeah, she looks the type. I'm more concerned with what's going on here on the floor. I mean, look at that guy on the end. You could club a baby seal to death with that."

  "You don't get it," I said. "Why would the Londinium Club put Lilith's face on their lobby ceiling?"

  Suzie shrugged. "Maybe she was a founding Member. That could explain its longevity ..."

  I shook my head, unconvinced. "There's got to be more to it than that. This means something ..."

  "Everything means something."

  Perhaps fortunately, we were interrupted by the Club Steward walking acro
ss the lobby to join us. I knew he had to be the Steward; they all have that same arrdgant poise, the same disdainful gaze. Somehow I knew we weren't going to get on. He stopped a respectful distance away from us, bowed slightly, and presented us with his best long-suffering smile.

  "Your reputation proceeds you, sir and lady. The Legionnaires you ran off are still being treated for shock, and so far you are the only people ever to venture into the carnivorous jungle and come out again in one piece. You are also the first people ever to get past our Doorman. There is some talk of presenting you with a medal or striking you down with a lightning bolt. Either way, it's clear that though you are not Citizens or Members, or ever likely to be, it's got to be less trouble for all concerned if I welcome you to the Club and ask how best we can serve you. On the grounds that the sooner we can get rid of you, the better."

  I looked at Suzie. "Why can't everyone be that reasonable?"

  "Where would be the fun in that?" said Suzie.

  "May I enquire why you have come here, sir and lady?" said the Steward.

  I gave him the short version, and he nodded slowly. "Well, there are any number of gods and beings and sorcerers who are currently Club Members in good standing, who might be able to help you; and quite a few of them are in residence here today. Go through those doors, and you'll find most of them taking their ease in the steam-baths. I'm sure you'll find someone or something that can assist you. Feel free to help yourselves to the Club oils and lineaments, but don't steal the towels. We're running short again."

  "Oh, I don't think we need to disturb them at their bath," I said quickly. "The dining area will do fine."

  The Steward raised a shocked eyebrow. "The dining area and vomitorium are beyond the baths, sir. It is expected that all Members cleanse themselves thoroughly, before being allowed through to dine. You could not possibly be admitted in your... present condition. We have standards to maintain. If you will remove all your garments ..."

  "All of them?" said Suzie, a little ominously.

  "Well, of course," said the Steward. "You don't take a bath with your clothes on, do you? I mean, you're obviously barbarians, but there really are limits to the kind of behaviour we're prepared to tolerate here. This is a civilised Club for civilised people. Clean civilised people. If you expect to meet with our most distinguished Members, we can't allow ..."

  "Can't?" said Suzie, her hand dropping to one of the grenades at her belt.

  The Steward might not have known what a grenade was, but he knew a threat when he saw it. He drew himself up to his full height. "This Club is under the protection of the entire pantheon of Roman gods and goddesses. Start any trouble here, and you'll be leaving this lobby in several buckets."

  Suzie sniffed loudly, but took her hand away from the grenade. "I don't think he's bluffing, Taylor. There's no-one more strict and unyielding about its rules and traditions than a newly formed exclusive Club. And the Roman gods were famous for their hands-on approach to smiting unbelievers."

  I looked at the Steward, and he actually fell back a pace. "They couldn't keep us out."

  "Maybe not," said Sozie. "But if we were to force our way in, you can bet no-one would talk to us. The kind of beings who could help us are not going to be the kind we can hope to bribe or intimidate. Hell, Taylor, what's it coming to when I'm being the voice of reason? What's the matter, you forget to put on clean underwear?"

  "You don't have to do this, Suzie," I said. "You can stay here, while I go in."

  "Hell with that. You need someone to watch your bare back. Especially in a place like this."

  "I'm trying to protect you, Suzie. After ... what happened to you ..."

  "I don't need protecting." She looked at me levelly. "I don't care about this, John. Really. You're being very ... sweet, but don't worry yourself on my account."

  I glared at the Steward. "This had better be worth it. Do you have any real Powers present tonight?"

  "Oh yes, sir. All sorts. We even have an actual deity in residence. Poseidonis, god of the seas, has graced us with his noble presence. Be tactful with him, he's been drinking. He's also the god of horses, though no-one seems to know how that came about. Don't bring it up, you'll only upset him, and it takes ages to get all the seaweed out of the pool afterwards. If you'll follow me ..."

  He led us through the doors at the far end of the lobby and into a pleasant little changing room, with long wooden benches. Beyond the next set of doors, I could hear voices and splashing sounds. The air was perfumed and pleasantly warm. The Steward coughed meaningfully.

  "If you'll let me have your... garments, sir and lady, I'll have them thoroughly cleaned before you leave. It won't take a moment..."

  "Watch out for the coat," I said. "It has serious protections built in."

  "I wouldn't doubt it for a moment, sir."

  "And don't mess about with my weapons," growled Suzie. "Or they'll be scraping your people off the walls with a trowel."

  She shrugged off her shotgun in its long holster, then took off her bandoliers of bullets and her belt of grenades. The Steward accepted them, suitably gingerly. Suzie didn't look at me as she shrugged off her leather jacket, and nothing moved in her face, nothing at all. I took off my trench coat. It felt like removing a suit of armour. Suzie took off her shirt and stepped out of her leather trousers. Underneath, she was wearing basic, functional bra and panties. It made sense. No-one else was ever expected to see them. I took off my shirt and trousers, glad I had remembered to put on a clean pair of jockeys that morning. I've never liked boxers. I like to be sure of where everything is. Suzie took off her underwear, and so did I. The Steward gathered everything up, going out of his way to make it clear our nakedness meant nothing to him. He sorted everything out into one manageable pile and lifted it up, almost disappearing behind it.

  "Your clothes will be cleaned, and your weapons guarded, until you are ready to leave, sir and lady. Enjoy the baths, stay as long as you like, and please remember to get out of the pool to take a piss."

  He backed out, and the doors swung shut behind him, leaving Suzie and me alone together. For a long moment we stood and looked at each other. For all the things we'd done and been through together, we'd never seen each other naked before. I'd thought I'd feel awkward, but mostly I still felt protective. I kept my gaze on her face at first, trying to be polite, but Suzie didn't bother with any of that. She looked me over with frank curiosity. So I did the same. She had so many scars, so many old hurts, tracking across her body like the map of her troubled life.

  "And those are only the ones that show," said Suzie. She smiled, as our eyes met. "Not bad, Taylor. I always wondered what you'd look like, without the trench coat."

  "You look great," I said. "I always thought you'd have tattoos, somewhere."

  "Nah," she said dismissively. "I could never make my mind up. I just knew I'd end up hating it in the morning."

  "Just as well," I said. "It would have been like scribbling graffiti across a masterpiece."

  "Oh please, Taylor. I have no illusions about how I look. Even before my new face."

  "You look fine," I said firmly. "Trust me."

  "You smooth-talking devil, Taylor."

  We couldn't maintain the light tone any more, so we stopped talking. She had a good body, with large friendly breasts and a pleasantly padded stomach. But the scars were everywhere; knife wounds, bullet wounds, the marks of tooth and claw. You don't get to be the best and most feared bounty hunter in the Nightside without being willing to fight up close and personal.

  "You have scars, too," Suzie said finally. "Life has left its mark on us, John."

  She reached out a hand, and slowly, cautiously, she traced some of my scars with her fingertip. Only the very tip of her forefinger, a touch gentle as a breeze, wandering across my body. I stood very still. Suzie had been sexually abused repeatedly as a child, by her own brother. She killed him for it, eventually. But ever since she'd never been able to touch or be touched, by anyone. Not even the
briefest touch, the gentlest caress. Not by lovers, or friends, or even me. She stepped a little closer, and I held myself very still, not wanting to frighten her off. God alone knew how much strength it took, for her to do this small thing. I could see her breasts rising and falling as she breathed deeply. Her face was calm, thoughtful. I wanted so much to reach out to her... but in the end, her hand dropped to her side, and she turned her face away.

  "I can't," she said. "I can't... Not even with you, John."

  "It's all right," I said.

  "No it isn't. It'll never be all right."

  "You've come such a long way, Suzie."

  She shook her head, still not looking at me. "What's done can't be undone. I've always known that. I can't... care for you, John. I don't think I have it in me any more."

  "Of course you do," I said. "Five years ago, you shot me in the back to stop me leaving, remember?"

  She nodded, and looked at me again. "It was a cry for attention."

  I moved in close, trying hard to seem supportive without crowding her. "There was a time ... you wouldn't even have been able to do this much, Suzie. You're changing. So am I. And we monsters must stick together."

  She looked at me, and though she didn't smile, she didn't look away. Slowly, and very cautiously, I raised my hand, and with the very tips of my fingers I touched the ridged mass of scar and burn tissue that now made up the right side of her face. The hard skin felt cold and dead. Suzie looked into my eyes, hardly blinking, but she didn't flinch.