Rogue

by Mark Frost

  I’m coming back toward you, Will answered. Taking the long way around.

  Do what you have to do—

  I have a plan.

  Of course you do.

  Will broke off the connection, let the pack close the gap again, and then sprinted toward the far staircase. This time they were smart enough to spread out behind him, six feet apart, trying to discourage him from turning back. Instead he just ran right up the stairs and stopped on the first landing. He looked back just long enough to make sure they were taking the bait, then ran up to the next landing, and the one after that, and then he was back in the chamber they’d first entered.

  He ran straight across to the stairs they’d initially descended, where he paused just long enough to see the creatures crest the top of the stairs behind him; then he headed down.

  From below he heard the clash of steel on steel and the grind of steel on stone. He blinked on the Grid and saw a mash-up of heat signatures moving around vigorously.

  Nearly there, he sent to Elise. Bringing more with me.

  Oh for joy, for joy.

  Will turned the corner around the final landing. Halfway down the last set of stairs, Nick held one of the snake-men around the throat with his left fist and was punching it repeatedly in the face with his sledgehammer right. The thing was nearly out on its feet. Three more of the beasts were already sprawled out on the stairs, either unconscious or dead, a green sludge flowing from their eyes, nose, and small slits in the sides of their necks that were probably their ears.

  “Hey, buddy,” said Nick, still throwing punches as Will came into view. “Turns out they’re not as tough as they look.”

  “It’s about time!” shouted Ajay.

  The last two snake-men had squared off with Elise, with Ajay just behind her. Will could sense that she’d spent a big portion of her reserves already, probably with a blast that took out the three on the stairs.

  Ajay was pointing another of his homemade gizmos at the one closest to him. He fired it and a spinning steel disc the size of a circular saw blade flew across and severed its hand. The creature gave out an agonizing bellow as its hand fell off still holding a short sword.

  Nick smashed the creature one final time and it slumped to the ground in a limp pile. The last one standing, gripping the stump of its severed hand, turned and tried to slide away up the stairs. Nick followed it up to the landing, pounced on its tail, picked the thing up by the tail, and whipped it around a few times.

  At that moment the other group of six snake-men that had been tracking Will turned the corner onto the landing at the top of the next set of stairs. Nick saw them arrive, stopped his spin, planted his foot, and hurled the snake-man through the air at them. The thing’s body flew like a Frisbee, whirling and ricocheting violently off the walls, and then it crashed into them.

  Will and Elise joined Nick on the landing: Without even thinking about it, Will spontaneously summoned up an image of Lyle Ogilvy in full wendigo form and projected it out at them.

  That’s a new one, he realized as he watched the image appear and saw them react in fright. They can actually see this one.

  Elise, following his lead—his idea had passed between them without him even having to think about sending it—supplied a convincing accompaniment of the wendigo’s horrifying screech.

  The six snake-men turned as a group and slithered back up the stairs as fast as their tails could carry them.

  “Yeah, you better run!” shouted Nick.

  With a warrior’s shout, Nick bounded up the stairs after them. Will grabbed his arm, which didn’t dissuade him—he was pretty sure Nick was too strong to physically stop at this point. So he slipped a thought into Nick’s mind, hoping Nick would mistake it as one of his own:

  Chasing them would be bad.

  Nick stopped and turned to Will.

  “Chasing them would be bad,” he said.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” said Will.

  “Hey, but I got a good name for these ugly bastards,” said Nick, turning back and suppressing an impish grin. “Snake-ers.”

  They heard laughter behind them and turned to see Ajay leaning against the wall, doubled over; then he stood back up, laughing so hard he was having trouble catching his breath.

  Will shot an urgent look at Elise: Get him down the stairs. Fast.

  She hurried over to Ajay, put a comforting arm around him, and slowly walked him down to the plaza level. Ajay kept laughing the whole way, gasping for breath.

  “I mean it was funny,” said Nick, keeping his voice down, “but not that funny.”

  “He’s under a lot of stress,” said Will, walking down the stairs after them.

  “I guess. To each his own, right? I haven’t had this much fun since I snuck into the zoo after dark and jimmied the lock on the monkey house.”

  “You actually did that?”

  “Yeah, well, security nabbed me the second time. Caught a big dose of righteous hell from Pop for that one.”

  “How’d the monkeys take it?”

  “Aw, we got along great.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” said Will as they reached the plaza. “By the way, I found Coach. He’s over here.”

  “Awesome!”

  Will jogged past Elise and Ajay—she was whispering in his ear, trying to soothe him, and his laughs had subsided into sporadic giggles—and led Nick toward the circular wall in the center of the space. Nick turned a series of somersaults that got him to the wall just ahead of Will. Nick jumped up onto the wall, leaned over, and peered down through the crosshatched bars.

  “Hey, Coach,” he said. “How’s the water?”

  Coach Jericho looked up from below, treading in place. “Why don’t you jump in and find out, McLeish?”

  Nick chuckled. “Fell for that trapdoor number, huh? Oldest trick in the book.”

  “We have to hurry,” said Will, glancing back at Elise, who was leading Ajay through a series of deep breaths and slow exhales. “Those ones that ran off are probably going for help.”

  “What, you think there’s more of ’em?” asked Nick.

  “No, Nick,” said Will. “I think twelve of them built everything you see here. This whole complex. All by themselves.”

  Nick looked around and gave it some thought. “All this? Nah.”

  At that moment, from somewhere way deep on the far right side of the structure, they heard drums. Pounding deep and fast, but with purpose and synchronized rhythm.

  Lots of drums.

  “See, what’d I tell you? There’s gotta be more than twelve of ’em,” said Nick, slipping off his backpack and taking out his coiled rope. “Don’t worry, Coach, I got this.”

  Then from the left side of the complex, which Will had begun to realize might be even larger than they’d thought, they heard a second set of drums.

  “That’s a call and response,” said Ajay, suddenly his calm, rational self again.

  Another set of drums kicked in, behind them this time, and a few levels lower.

  “They’re sounding the alarm,” said Will. “Calling in reinforcements.”

  Nick was securing one end of the rope to the bars near the edge of the wall. “Coach, can’t you like turn into an eagle or something and fly out of there?”

  “If I could do that,” said Jericho calmly, “don’t you think I would have done it?”

  “An eagle wouldn’t fit through the bars anyway,” said Ajay.

  “Good point. It’d have to be like a hummingbird or a woodpecker or something,” said Nick, finishing the knot. “That oughta get the job done.”

  Nick dropped the rope down through the bars and it unfurled toward Jericho. He grabbed it with both hands and pulled himself out of the water. Nick grabbed the other end and started hoisting him up.

  “How is he going to get through the bars?” asked Elise, joining them at the wall and looking down. “They’re not wide enough.”

  “We’ve been over that already and please leave it to me,”
said Ajay, rummaging through his pack. “I’ve brought along a selection of moderately sized explosive charges, and if applied in the proper sequence, I believe I can detonate an appropriately sized hole—”

  “I’m pretty sure we won’t have time for that,” said Will, looking around, his senses tuning in to what was going on in a number of areas throughout the complex.

  “I can try, then,” said Elise.

  “No, Elise,” said Will firmly. “You need to save your strength.”

  Will turned back to the pit and sized up the bars; the two rows formed squares, like a checkerboard, each square less than a foot across. Nick had pulled and Jericho had climbed up to just below the bars. He clung to the rope, shirtless, his taut muscles straining.

  “You need to figure this out,” said Jericho, looking up at them.

  “Coach, you look kind of wrinkled,” said Nick, leaning down to look at him more closely. “How long you been in there?”

  “And you need to hurry,” said Jericho.

  “And, dude, no offense, but you don’t smell so great either,” said Nick. “What is that down there, a sewer?”

  “I’m going to bend the bars,” said Will. “Stay right where you are, Coach.”

  “There’s something you need to know about these things,” said Jericho.

  “Give me a second,” said Will.

  Will closed his eyes, summoned up an extra charge of power from the base of his spine, and felt it ramp all the way up his back, down his arms, and into his hands. He spread his fingers and pointed them at the bars: A thought-form in the shape of a turnbuckle appeared just where he visualized it and he inserted it in between the bars just to the right of where Jericho clung to the rope.

  Mentally turning the gears of the turnbuckle, Will focused and applied its expanding force to the bars on either side…and slowly each bar began to give, bending right and left, yielding with a rusty creak.

  “What are you doing, Will, and exactly how are you doing it?” asked Ajay, wide-eyed.

  Ignoring the question, Will paused to gather his mental energy again, then spent it all in a final burst that wedged the bars another few inches apart until they were nearly touching the next square over. Drained by the effort, Will nearly collapsed onto the wall, and the thought-form between the bars vanished with a snap.

  “Give me your hand,” said Nick, thrusting his arm down through the opening.

  Jericho grabbed hold of Nick’s forearm with his hand, let go of the rope, and swung over until he was positioned below the opening.

  “The drums stopped,” said Elise, looking up and around. “Is that good or bad?”

  “I vote bad,” said Ajay.

  “Maybe their arms got tired,” said Will, looking around.

  Nick slowly lifted Jericho through the opening. First his head cleared, then the arm Nick was holding. But Jericho’s left shoulder bumped into the bars, more than a few inches shy of clearing them.

  “Can you make it?” asked Nick.

  “Not without dislocating his shoulder,” said Ajay.

  “Look away for a second,” said Jericho sharply. “All of you.”

  “Why?” asked Nick.

  “Don’t argue with me, just do it,” said Jericho.

  “Do as he says,” said Will.

  Nick and the others looked away. Will closed his eyes but first blinked on the Grid; he had recently learned he didn’t even need his eyes open for the Grid to function now. He saw Jericho’s heat signature drastically change shape into something short and sleek, about the size of a small dog.

  Nick reacted with a start, feeling a radical change in the arm he was holding.

  “Dude, what the fritz was that?”

  Will saw Jericho’s smaller heat signature slip easily through the bars, hop over the wall, and flop onto the ground. Then it almost instantly expanded, in every direction. When Will opened his eyes again, Coach Jericho was lying on the ground next to Nick, panting and shivering.

  Nick was staring back and forth from Coach Jericho to his own hand. “What in the name of Carl Yastrzemski was that?”

  “That’s what I thought I saw in the lake,” said Ajay, almost to himself. “When he was coming ashore.”

  “Dude, I felt fur,” said Nick, “and…and a tiny wet little flipper.”

  “What’s the matter, Nick, haven’t you ever held hands with an otter before?” said Elise.

  Jericho looked up at her and winked. Elise knelt down and offered him a couple of PowerBars and water from her canteen. Nick untied and recoiled his rope, still shaking his head.

  “He’s actually, absolutely, positively a real shaman,” said Ajay, still almost whispering.

  All around them, and much closer, the drums began again.

  “What did you want to tell us, Coach?” asked Will.

  Jericho took a long pull from a canteen, then wiped the excess off his chin. “They’re cannibals.”

  “Oh, really,” said Ajay, looking suddenly woozy.

  “Good to know,” said Nick.

  “How do you know that?” asked Elise sharply.

  “They said they were going to eat me,” said Jericho, matter-of-factly.

  “You could understand them?” asked Ajay.

  “They made their intentions perfectly clear.”

  “So what the hell were you swimming in down there,” said Nick, making a sour face and looking at the pit, “marinade?”

  “There’s no accounting for taste,” said Jericho.

  “Where did you come into the zone?” asked Will.

  “In the swamp,” said Jericho, getting to his feet and stretching his long limbs. “Not far from here. This structure was the first big thing I saw. I worked my way toward it, and then—yes, McLeish—I fell through the damn trapdoor. I slid down some kind of slick tunnel that dumped me into that hole. Then the water started pouring in. It’s been a fun couple of hours.”

  “Just curious, how did you know they were going to eat you?” asked Nick.

  “Let’s just say it didn’t require a human-to-snake-man dictionary.”

  “For God’s sake, what does that matter?” said Ajay to Nick, annoyed. “The point is if Coach was going to be the main course, now we’re all part of the buffet.”

  “We have to get out of here,” said Jericho. “Now.”

  “Something’s coming,” said Will, getting back on his feet, his energy feeling more fully restored.

  Noise, energy, and bright flickering lights were issuing from the cavernous opening in the wall on the plaza’s right side. Will recognized the harsh guttural barks of the snake-men, and this time it sounded like there were too many to count. The drums were moving with them, pounding out an angrier, more menacing beat.

  “They’re over this way, too,” said Elise, pointing back to the stairs.

  More lights and the side-winding sounds of approaching snakes were coming down both of the staircases at either end of the plaza.

  “Oh my freakin’ gawd,” said Nick, staring at the large tunnel.

  The lights—torches in the hands of dozens of the snake-men—were casting forward onto the walls of the wide passage the wavering shadow of something moving with them. Something at least twenty feet tall and as thick as a towering oak, swaying and bobbing in that same, familiar hideous way.

  The shadow of a gigantic snake-man.

  “Guess the big dog gets to eat first,” said Jericho.

  “Check, please,” said Ajay.

  “That is no dog,” said Nick.

  “Get ready to run,” said Will, lowering his voice. “And do exactly as I say.”

  WILL’S RULES FOR LIVING #10:

  WHEN VISITING A FOREIGN LAND, IT IS ALWAYS WISE TO OBSERVE AND ABIDE BY THE CUSTOMS OF THE LOCAL CULTURE. UNLESS THEY’RE TRYING TO EAT YOU.

  The first war party poured into the plaza from the staircase to their left, twenty-five or thirty of them. Torches held aloft, armored with thick, scaled leather and chain mail and armed to the teeth. A trio of dr
ummers brought up the rear, wearing drums slung around their hips, pounding out a martial beat.

  A second party, about the same size, spilled out of the right staircase moments later. All of them looked bigger, tougher, and at least twice as strong as the creatures they’d first encountered. Both parties halted at a single commanding gesture from a leader at the front of each pack, each of them half again bigger, tougher, and stronger-looking than the rest of their platoon—officer-class material.

  “They don’t look much like the ones we fought earlier,” said Elise.

  “We probably ran into the types who maintain the temple,” said Will.

  “Janitors,” said Jericho.

  “Or the ones who do the cooking,” said Ajay, settling in behind Nick.

  “Wimps,” said Nick, disappointed. “We fought the wimps.”

  “This is their warrior class,” said Jericho.

  With a precision that would have rivaled any military, both parties spread out in front of the staircase and took up defensive stances.

  “Why aren’t they coming at us?” asked Nick.

  “They’re disciplined,” said Jericho.

  “Their orders are to guard the exits,” said Will, turning back to the large passage behind them. “Keep us boxed in. For the main attack, from there.”

  At that moment, the larger party broke out of the cavern. There were at least a hundred in this group, urged on by a dozen drummers. More soldiers spread out to either side, where they set up precise formations, weapons poised to advance. Most of them wore shinier armor and carried long, lethal-looking spears, and they held large rectangular shields, like the imperial guard of a Roman phalanx.

  Once they were in position, the star of the show arrived, writhing out of the shadows with a supple grace that belied its extraordinary size. Twenty feet seemed about right, thought Will, as tall as a two-story house. Its arms had the size and definition of tree trunks, armored at wrist, bicep, and shoulder with bands of iron. It carried a gleaming golden trident at least twelve feet long and as thick as a flagpole, the business end of each blade festooned at the base with a trio of cruel-looking hooks. A leather-studded hood adhered to its long angular face like a glove, and a round band of what looked like gold circled the crown of its head.