Dyscountopia (21 page)

“I’ve seen God’s plan.
 
I can make them understand.
 
I know the truth.”

“Albert.”
 
The Doctor tried to place a hand on Albert’s shoulder, but it was angrily deflected.
 
“Albert, the truth is that I’m standing in the dark in a sewer with a lunatic, being hunted by an animal that shouldn’t even exist, and I want to go home.
 
Don’t make me leave you here.”

“I’m not making you do anything!”
 
Albert hissed, spewing rage.
 
He glared at the Doctor through a foggy red haze, balling his hands into tight, angry fists.
 
He was tired of being ridiculous, insignificant, impotent.

“Albert”, said the Doctor, so gently that Albert could barely hear him past the blood pumping in his ears, “I’ve never been as close to death as I was just ten seconds ago.
 
I don’t know about you, but when I heard that thing breathing outside, and I knew that I was only inches from dying, I had a moment of clarity.
 
I had a spiritual awakening.
 
I finally understood what my purpose was here on earth.
 
Do you want to know what it is?”

Albert relaxed his fists.
 
Like the final half-hearted thrumming of a rainstorm against a metal shed, his rage wavered and died.
 

“What?” he whispered sulkily.

 
“To not get eaten by a fucking Rhinocermoose!
 
Plain and simple.
 
That’s all it’s about.”
 
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
 
“Now let’s make like a tree.”

Albert shook his head.
 
“I won’t go back.”

“Then I’ll go without you.”

“Then go.”
 

Albert stood waiting for the Doctor’s response, but all that followed was silence and the faint rippling of water.
 
The light floated away down the pipe.
 
There was the soft squeal of metal hinges, then the light turned a corner and vanished.
 

“
Doctor
?”
 
Albert whispered desperately.
 
But the Doctor was gone.

Albert stood helpless, listening to the sound of emptiness and his own heartbeat as the seconds ticked by in the pitch black.

“Dr. Zayus?”

Albert was alone.
 

His heart pounded.
 
The sound of his own heavy, erratic breathing filled his ears.
 
He wanted to scream.
 
He wanted to cry.
 
He felt like he was being suffocated, buried in a tomb of human excrement.
 
Alone.
 

Slowly, quietly, Albert waded back the way he came, guiding himself along the wall with trembling hands.
 

“Doctor!?”
 
He shouted despite the danger.

His finger tips fell on the metal grate, already ajar.
 
He slipped quietly through it and felt his way down the passage, searching for the glow of the Doctor’s light.
 
Nothing.
 

His toe caught something solid and he stumbled forward, expecting to go head first into the water.
 
But instead his hands found dry concrete.
 
Stairs.

Albert proceeded on all fours, inching his way out of the water to the top of the stairs, like a blind man looking for his lost cane.
 
Behind him came a series of splashes and heavy breathing.
  
He panicked and jumped to his feet, dashing headlong into the darkness, falling backward with a cry as he ran directly into something very solid.
 
He lay on his back, his arms and legs sprawled out around him, thrashing at the feculent air above him like an up-ended turtle.
 
He manage to flop over on his belly and scuttle forward, feeling his way ahead until his palms came up against the object.
 
He rose to his feet, running his hands along it, feeling its rough, leathery, well-muscled exterior; and, just as cold, unforgiving, bone-crushing realization caught him in its vice-like grip, he heard a soft snort and felt a warm puff of breath on his face that smelled like eternity without a toothbrush.

Albert stood perfectly still, eyes fixed in the direction of the unseen abomination, waiting to be shredded like a block of cheese and wondering how much it would hurt on a scale from one to ten.
 
Then came a sudden flash of yellow, searing his retinas, and the tunnel around him flooded with light.
 
Before him, blinking and confused, stood the Rhinocermoose, its head lowered in a ferocious display of horns and antlers, poised just inches from his abdomen.

WHOMP!
 

It was the sound of a tattered, size 9, canvass sneaker impacting against an immense, wrinkled gray rump.
 
The Rhinocermoose reared up, enraged, and turned to face its assailant.
 
Squinting sidelong into the beam of light, Albert watched the hazy form of Dr. Zayus emerge defiantly from the shadows.
 
The Doctor stepped forward and boldly met the icy stare of the fearsome beast, uttering his immortal last words.

 
“Oh, shit….”

The Rhinocermoose dipped its angry head downward and then, in one perfect lethal motion, caught its horn under Dr. Zayus’ rib cage and tossed him into the air.
 
The Doctor met the ceiling with a sickening crunch, then flopped to the ground with a resounding thud, very definitely dead.
 
The flashlight clattered to the floor next to Albert’s foot.

Albert picked up the light and ran for his life.

He dashed through the passageway at a full run, flailing his arms and screaming like a madman.
 
He ran until he was out of breath, until his sides hurt, until his throat was on fire.
 
And then, when he couldn’t run anymore, he walked, shuffling his aching feet until his legs collapsed and he was forced to crawl on his hands and knees.
 
For miles and miles the passage went on, without any exit to the left or right, and Albert clawed his way along it, groaning and frothing at the mouth, until his hands and knees were bloody, desperately trying to put as much distance as he could between himself and the monster that pursued him.
 
When he could go no farther he collapsed in a heap and lay there, gasping for air and fighting to stay conscious.
 
The flashlight rolled from his hand and clattered against the wall.
 
The bulb flickered, then extinguished.
 
Darkness.

****

Darkness.
 
The Amazing Bobo sat eating a banana.
 
He swallowed the soft, mushy paste in his mouth and wondered absently if the Doctor, or his simple-minded friend, had managed to evade the Rhinocermoose, and if they had, if they would ever find their way out of the tunnels again.
 
It wouldn’t be easy – the Rhinocermoose was a deadly adversary, as Bobo well knew – but at least they had the flashlight.
 
Next time I’ll remember to bring a spare
, Bobo thought with dismay.
 
Now he’d have to find his way out in the dark, and that was always tricky.
 
The important thing was to keep a level head, and never to panic.
 
Just like he’d been trained.

Bobo listened quietly until he was sure that the coast was clear, then hopped down from the ladder and felt his way back along the passage.
 
Seventy-two paces to the door and turn right.
 
One-hundred and eight paces to the stack of tires, turn left.
 
Years of rigorous training had instilled in Bobo a photographic memory, a tool that had aided him more than once on recon missions during the Rhode Island War for Independence, and later the Second French Canadian Invasion of 2028.
 
After he’d been someplace once, he never forgot the way.
 
That’s why they called him The Amazing Bobo.

The chimp fondly remembered those days of glory.
 
Rhode Island had been a cakewalk; the Islanders never had the stomach for a real fight and Bobo’s platoon cut through them like soft butter.
 
But FCI2 was a different story – everyone thought it was just going to be good for a laugh, but those Canucks turned out to be a ruthless bunch of bastards.
 
Chemical weapons, dirty bombs, biological warfare – nothing was beneath them.
 
There were no more records left to tell us where the Rhinocermoose had come from, or whose bright idea it was, but Bobo still remembered.
 
Unspeakable abominations were spawned by those scientists in Quebec, whose years of experimentation finally found fruition in the ultimate killing machine -- a monster that combined the stalwart dependability of a Canadian with a Frenchman’s utter disdain for everything that wasn’t exactly like itself.
 
And so the Rhinocermoose was born.
 
But such a beast wasn’t easily controlled; a fact that managed to elude the Canadians until it was too late – casualties were high on both sides.
 
A quick truce was settled on and everyone went home and tried to forget the whole thing, leaving the border to the whim of that nightmarish creature.
 
What a snafu.
 

“Eeeeep!”
 
Bobo’s toe snagged a rogue toaster and he pitched forward, catching himself on his knuckles.
 
Never drop your guard – that’s another thing he had learned at the academy.
 
And there was something else.
 
Something about never leaving a man behind.
 
The chimp stopped and looked over his shoulder, and it seemed for a brief moment that he might turn around.

Nah, screw it
, he thought.
 
I got my bananas.

****

“Babbert?”

“Huh?”

“Babbert?”
 
Lucy was sitting next to him, sipping a gooma smoothie.
 
Ahead of them, the sun dipped lazily toward the crimson plain.
 
There was a ringing in his ears.

“Lucy, what are you doing here?
 
Where am I?
 
Is this Pog?”

The little rodent shook her head.

“Am I dreaming?”

Again, she shook her head.
 
“Gooma flashback,” she said.
 
“It happens.”

“Then you aren’t real…,” Albert muttered.
 
“This place isn’t real.”

Lucy shrugged.

Albert turned back to the sunset.
 
He recognized it.
 
He had seen that same one before.
 
The ringing in his ears grew louder, now a sharp squeal.

“Lucy, what’s going on?
 
How did I -- ?”

But Lucy’s attention was elsewhere.
 
She stood up on her hind legs, scanning the plain around her with keen interest.
 
Albert shook her gently by the shoulder, trying to recapture her attention.

“Lucy, I -- .”
 
The squeal in Albert’s head intensified, drowning out the sound of his own voice.
 
He tried shouting louder, but couldn’t break through the noise.
 
Seemingly unaware of Albert’s struggle, Lucy looked curiously over her shoulder at nothing.

Then it dawned on Albert that the noise wasn’t just noise.
 
There was a message in it – an important message that he’d heard once before but couldn’t remember.
 
The message was garbled, disjointed, as if Albert was a malfunctioning radio receiver collecting bits and pieces of a half-formed transmission.
 
He clenched his fists and tried to concentrate.