“You could just stay here,” her doppelganger said again. “With mom and dad. The farm is safe.”
“That’s the thing though, right? They are out there waiting for me. Back home. And I need to get back to them safely. For their happiness.”
“It is exhausting being this selfless,” the doppelganger said. “Even now, you’re trying to fix the world for everyone else.”
“Somebody has to,” Jane said. “Are we going to fight now? I don’t really want to fight myself.”
“You fight yourself every day,” the older version of Jane said, smiling. “Don’t need me to throw a haymaker at your face to make that happen.”
Jane bit her lip, thinking.
“Tell me your best moment,” she said.
“We’ve already established I’m just a part of you, a piece of your memories,” the doppelganger said. “How can I tell you my best moment?”
“Because you are me,” Jane said. “And that means you know my best moment.”
The older woman paused, looking out the window, biting her own lip in a perfect imitation of her younger self.
“Do you remember the first time we flew?” she said.
“Yeah,” Jane said. “It was like every worry melted away. Just me and the sky. Nothing could touch me there.”
“That was a great day,” the doppelganger said. “It was almost like…”
“Like I was happy,” Jane finished.
“Then everything else happened,” the older Jane said.
“And it never stopped happening.”
“We just kept saving the world.”
“And never thought about saving ourselves.”
“I wanted to let myself be tired.”
“But there was no time to be tired.”
“No time to be sad.”
“Or guilty.”
“Or lonely.”
“Or lost.”
Jane realized that her older self had disappeared, leaving her alone in the farmhouse kitchen. I’ve been talking to myself for a while, haven’t I, she thought. Jane heard her mother moving around the living room, heard her father singing an old Irish folksong upstairs, the one she still knew by heart.
And though it falls upon my lot that I should rise and you should not,
I’ll gently rise and I’ll softly call, goodnight and joy be with you all.
Goodnight, and joy be with you all.
Jane walked quietly out of the farmhouse, avoiding the imagined imitations of her parents, and let the reddish gold light of the sun warm her skin. She took a deep breath, shaking off the melancholy and loneliness this dream had filled her with.
There’s time to be unhappy later, she thought. We have a world to save.
And she took to the air, trying, so very hard, to hold in her memory that first flight, the weightlessness of it, and the brief joy it let her uncover.
Chapter 42: Moving monsters cross-country
Andrew Keppler was beginning to not just resent his job but full-on hate it.
His day became an awkward series of phone calls and meetings, bribes to get around laws about moving biological matter, paying off the right people to avoid the wrong questions being asked, and in the end, finding a way to ship thousands of pounds of mutated, sometimes necrotic flesh to California undetected. Private aircraft were hired, and private air strips rented. The creatures were handled by vendors who had been loyal to the Children of the Elder Star for decades—old school crooks who could be trusted to keep their mouths shut because they expected long-term payouts for silence.
And because they worked for the Children, they’d seen worse. Well, Keppler thought, eyeing some of the more grotesque examples of King Tears’ craft, maybe not worse, but certainly strange and inhuman.
I guess I can put moving monsters cross-country on my CV, Keppler thought.
They arrived in several unmarked trucks outside the town limits of Westwick. King Tears made Keppler open the doors so the mutations could slink, crawl, scuttle, or otherwise shuffle their way out into the open.
The smell was bad enough, turning Keppler’s stomach instantly. Old meat, rot, strange, alien spices, and something else, darker, that caused the part of his brain that remembered being a prey animal to want to run.
The first few out were mostly human. Transformed arms or legs, lumpy, oversized things ending in bony talons or studded with ridges or protrusions, but these still looked identifiably like people.
Then the fused creatures began to exit the vehicle, built from multiple victims. Too many arms, too many legs, eyes on all sides looking in every direction at once, mouths that tried to talk in different languages, holding different conversations simultaneously. Keppler took an involuntary step away from those.
Then came the creatures who clearly had been blended with things not of this world. Most were humanoid—four limbs, a torso, a head—but they also were marred by some unearthly, one might even say demonic, sign. One had enormous bat wings. Several had black, curved horns jutting from their foreheads. One looked at him with yellowy eyes, irises vertical slits like a lizard’s, and snarled at him in a language he couldn’t identify but made his guts turn to hot oil.
“Is this all you could have transported to us?” King Tears asked.
Keppler swallowed hard and clenched his fists, closing his eyes to calm himself before answering. King Tears laughed.
“I’m just kidding, Mr. Keppler. This is more than enough. Excellent work.”
“Thank you, sir,” Keppler said.
“I’m wholeheartedly impressed with your efficiency. You have a future here, I think,” Tears said.
He turned to address the menagerie of monsters next, stepping past Keppler, who subtly backed himself away from both the magician and his pets.
“My warriors, my children. You are about to do what you were made to do: conquer a world. Join me, my wondrous creations, as we step across the threshold between realities and take what is ours,” Tears said.
The monsters said nothing in return, staring mutely back at him. One of the creatures with too many mouths shushed itself.
“Very well then,” King Tears said. “I need a volunteer.”
Again, he was meet with silence. He scanned the gathered mutations and pointed to one, a younger man with a shock of unkempt blond hair. His skin was unnaturally red, one eye larger than the other.
“You,” Tears said. “What’s your name?”
“I’m… I’m Kevin, sir.”
Keppler was intrigued and disheartened by the tone of the boy’s voice. He recognized the resignation and resentment immediately. King Tears could control them, but they were not willing subjects, Keppler knew. He filed that information away for later.
“Come here, Kevin. You are about to be a pivotal part of our crossing over to the other side,” Tears said.
“I am?” the boy said.
“Yes,” Tears said, putting an arm around the boy’s shoulder. Kevin’s left arm was completely transformed into a tentacle-covered thing, sharp barbs hanging from ruddy flesh. He was among the smallest of the mutated creatures, though there were other younger victims among them as well.
King Tears led the young, mutilated man to the edge of the pavement where the town disappeared. He gestured out across the empty, dusty space where Westwick once stood.
“You see, we need to cross the veil. To move our weapons of war across dimensions, and we need you for that,” King Tears said.
“Why me?” Kevin asked. Beyond his anger and resentment, there was also a sort of dullness to Kevin’s speech, as if he weren’t fully in control of his actions, like someone woken unexpectedly from a deep sleep.
“Because, Kevin, I am a master of blood magic,” King Tears said. “And blood magic requires sacrifice.”
With a showy, deft flourish, King Tears produced a wicked, serrated knife from within his suitcoat. With his other hand, he violently grabbed Kevin’s hair and pushed his head back, exposing his neck. King Tears flicked h
is wrist and slit the boys’ throat, holding him upright by his hair as his life’s blood emptied on the ground in front of him. Tears tilted the dying boy from left to right as if painting an arc with his blood.
He dropped the body on the ground. Keppler could hear the soft, quiet gurgles as the boy finished dying, splayed out beneath the California sun.
King Tears began chanting in an arcane language, making sharp, precise movements with his hands. He clapped once, harshly, and a semi-circle lit up in the air before him. On the other side of that semi-circle, Keppler could see the town they were looking for, bathed in crimson light. King Tears gestured with both arms and the portal opened wider, large enough to accommodate the biggest of his creations.
“Come, my warriors,” King Tears said cheerfully. He made a disconcertingly friendly gesture to Keppler to join him. “Let us journey to this other world, and take what is ours. Isn’t the acquisition of incredible power so much fun?”
Keppler allowed himself to be led through the portal. He could feel the blood covering King Tears’ hand seeping through his own suit coat.
That’ll never come out, Keppler thought. None of this will ever come out of anything.
Chapter 43: The anthill
Billy stared out into the yawning abyss of space and wondered why this was his current predicament, considering a few seconds ago he was standing in a reasonable facsimile of southern California.
Space, Billy thought. I’m in space. I wasn’t in space before. I don’t really appreciate the unrequested change of scenery.
He looked around. Behind him, casting a glow of reflected distant sunlight, was Saturn, its rings close enough he could see them as the asteroids and space debris they really were, not the pretty streaks they’d appear at a distance. The base the Luminae were building when he last visited was not there, though, as far as Billy could tell. He hoped that meant he was in a dream or hallucination and not that they’d given up their construction project without telling him or Dude.
Speaking of, Billy thought.
“Dude, are you here?” Billy asked. He waited for the alien to respond. Nothing. “Dude? No? Great.”
He held his hands out in front of him, palms up, and activated the light blasts he should have been able to project. Both hands lit up in the bright blueish-white glow he was expecting.
Okay, so I have my powers, Billy thought. Dude isn’t answering, but this means he’s still here, otherwise I’d be powerless. Also dead and frozen solid in the cold vacuum of space.
Billy darted around to get his bearings. The planet seemed to be as vast and terrifying as it was in real life, though no matter how close or far from it he tried to fly, it always seemed to be the same distance. Frustrated, he burned downward at top speed, trying to reach the planet’s atmosphere. Nothing.
Optical illusion, Billy thought. Wherever I am, it can’t let me get any closer to Saturn.
And then it hit: pure, unadulterated agoraphobia.
He’d had similar attacks in the past, when he went into space to scout out the Nemesis Fleet—something about the vastness of the cosmos spread out before him had made Billy, who is admittedly relatively self-centered, feel catastrophically unimportant and insignificant. That was when he was impossibly fast and able, with Dude’s internal guidance, to travel back and forth from Saturn to Earth in a few days. Dude was even able to help Billy fall into a kind of trance to keep from having a panic attack out of boredom.
But here, right now, the was no Dude, no trance, and definitely no hyper-speed travel.
Don’t panic, Billy thought, as panic did, in fact rise in his guts like acid. Don’t panic, be cool, this is just a nightmare, you’ve had similar nightmares before, oh boy, now you’re panicking, this is bad…
He heard a garbled sound in his head, like a radio tuned incorrectly. The sound warbled and whined until finally, Dude’s voice came through with its usual clarity.
There you are, Dude said.
“Dude!” Billy said. “Oh am I glad to hear your voice, buddy.”
You were having a panic attack.
“Yes, absolutely, I was having a panic attack. I’m still having a panic attack. Can you feel me sweating? I’m sweating.”
Calm down, Billy Case. This is an illusion.
“So you know how to get us out of here?”
I did not say that.
“Well, you’re no help,” Billy said. “Lost in space. This is literally my recurring nightmare.”
Billy sensed Dude hesitating.
“What,” Billy said. “What are you holding back?”
Where are the other Luminae?
“Gone,” Billy said. “We’re alone out here.”
Again, there was an unspoken hesitation.
“Dude?”
You said this was your own recurring nightmare.
“Yeah,” Billy said. “I, like, okay, our trip into the great beyond a while back? Not gonna lie, my friend, it messed me up.”
Billy realized his voice was about to crack with emotion. He fought it, as if the alien listening to him speak didn’t hear all his thoughts, wasn’t living in his brain, wasn’t there when Billy daydreamed or went to the bathroom.
“I don’t like feeling insignificant,” Billy said. “I mean, I know I’m not important. I’m okay not being important. I’m just a guy. But, Dude, the universe is so big. So big. We’re nothing. It just goes on and on, forever, in all directions, and we’re just this little collection of cells that thinks we’re important but really how important can you be when you make plans based on not missing a TV show, y’know? We’re nothing.”
Dude didn’t answer. Billy began to panic again, afraid he’d lost him.
“Dude?”
Ants build complex homes beneath the earth. That is their world, and that world is significant to them. They do not worry about their significance to the rest of the universe, Billy Case. They worry about the home they’ve built, and ensuring its survival. You are not insignificant. You serve a great purpose. You keep your home safe.
“That is… bizarrely inspiring, Dude,” Billy said. He still felt sick to his stomach, but the tightness in his chest began to loosen. “Although for what it’s worth, usually being compared to an ant is traditionally a method of telling someone they’re actually insignificant.”
Sometimes it takes an alien perspective to see the bigger picture, Dude said.
“Heh. Yeah,” Billy said. He scanned the blanket of stars spread out before him and sighed. “Still. Here we are. Hey, you sounded concerned for a minute, there.”
Your personal nightmare is to be insignificant. But I think this place is meant for both of us, Billy Case. It draws on both of our fears.
“You’re an immortal space angel. What exactly are you afraid of?”
My people are gone, Dude said. I have waited to rejoin them for centuries. Longer. But when we finally found them again, Billy Case, we were changed, you and me. We were not the same as before.
“How do you mean?”
When we absorbed our future selves, Dude said. Do you remember? When we traveled to the future.
“Hard to forget about that,” Billy said. “Not every day you get to mind-meld with someone and witness your own death. Thanks for reminding me.”
The other Luminae were too polite to say it when we finally encountered them, Dude said. But they are afraid of us. We are more powerful than any Luminae that has ever come before. And my brothers and sisters aren’t sure if that makes us an abomination, or a hero, a monster, a mutation. What they do know is we make them uncomfortable, as useful a weapon as we have become.
“Are they jealous?” Billy asked.
They are afraid. And even the Luminae are dangerous when they are afraid. And…
“What?” Billy said.
I do not want to be abandoned by my people, Billy Case. That is my greatest fear. I’ve been apart from them for so long. It feels unfair that when all is said and done, they might abandon me because of what w
e’ve done to save a world together.
“You’re afraid of being alone and insignificant,” Billy said.
Perhaps, Dude said.
“We really are a pair, aren’t we,” Billy said.
There is a reason I picked you above all others, Dude said. It’s not as though I didn’t have other options.
“Now you’re just being mean,” Billy said. “It’s funny. This isn’t my only recurring nightmare.”
I know.
“Of course you know,” Billy said. “I’m afraid of losing you, for one, you snooty old glow stick. I’m afraid of wanting to save people and not having the power to do that. I have nightmares all the time about you abandoning me. Or something happening that splits us apart again.”
You will be my partner until one of us is no longer among the living, Billy Case. You have my word on that.
“See, that’s super morbid and not exactly what I was looking for,” Billy said. “But I’ll take it.”
This is exactly what I say about you.
“Now there’s the snarky old Dude I know and love,” Billy said. “Okay. Good talk. How do we get back?”
Look behind you, Dude said.
Billy turned again so that Saturn was on his left. He was caught off-guard to find Titus in full werewolf form standing there with his weird spear in his hand. Titus leaned in and grabbed Billy by the shoulder.
“Wake up, doofus,” Titus said, his voice a low rumble emanating from his wolfish jaws, and gave Billy a hard shake.
In the blink of an eye, Billy went from drifting in space to sitting on a rocking chair on someone’s front porch back in Westwick.
“That was weird,” Billy said.
“Where did you go?” Jane asked, standing next to the massive form of wolfed-out Titus. Kate was with them as well, hanging back a bit, not making eye contact.
“I think I just had a therapy session with Dude,” Billy said.
“Feeling better?” Titus growled.
“Honestly? Yeah,” Billy said.
“Good,” Titus said. “Come on, we’ve got two more friends to find.”
The werewolf stomped off, sniffing the air as if tracking something. Oh, Billy thought. He’s literally tracking something.
The Indestructibles (Book 5): The Crimson Child Page 20