Authors: A. Sparrow
Tags: #fantasy, #paranormal, #contemporary, #afterlife, #liminality
I put my trust in Tigger’s sense of
direction, however unwise that might be. How much could this bug
know? He had only hatched out a few weeks ago? But he sure acted
like he knew where he was going, so I let him do his thing. Not
that I could ever get this stubborn creature to listen to me,
anyhow, even if I knew where to go.
It was not as if I was in a hurry to
get anywhere. I Being dead is sort of like being unemployed with no
prospects of ever finding a job. You just went with the
flow.
Gripping the struggling gnats in his
forelegs, Tigger chomped on them as he cruised. Leg parts and head
capsules went tumbling into the canopy as he snacked. I was feeling
hungry myself but there was nothing in the saddlebags but a few
crumbs of manna, which were mushy and stale. I nibbled them
anyway.
***
We had cruised for hours when a dark
object just above the horizon suddenly altered its course to
intercept us. I reached for a sword I no longer
possessed.
As it loomed ever closer I realized I
was looking at a bee. It flew alongside us and offered me a
glistening gold glob of nectar, which I promptly managed to smear
all over my face and chest. It kept regurgitating more and more
until I had all I could stomach had to shove the poor creature
away.
It then proceeded to offer some to
Tigger. I never even knew that dragonflies could or would take
nectar. I mean, when was the last time you saw one suck on a
flower? They don’t even have the right mouthparts. I guess it’s
different when you have another bug regurgitating globs of the
sweet stuff for you.
The nectar calmed me. If I didn’t know
better, I would say it contained something narcotic or at least
analgesic. I was feeling more comfortable and less anxious than I
had in a long time. At ease in my new skin. At peace with the
universe.
***
I was just telling myself that the
appearance of the bee might be a good sign that we were on the
right track when a strangely familiar range of hills appeared in
the distance. As we flew closer I could confirm that these
steep-walled hills were arranged in a ring surrounding a group of
weedy and reed-congested lakes. We had reached the bog
lands!
Suddenly self-conscious about my
nakedness, I smoothed my sticky hair and fussed with the few bits
of clothing I had left. But I’m sure these folks were used to
stranger sights.
The main village had been rebuilt
since the attack and some new communities had sprouted up both on
shore and amongst the giant lily pads. Thanks to an influx of
refugees, the pads and platforms crisscrossing the bog swarmed with
many more people than I had seen on my previous visits.
We landed hard on a large and vacant
pad smack in the middle of the main settlement. Two guys just stood
there gawking at us from the edge of the pad. I had to keep my
hands over my groin, which made for some awkwardness climbing down.
One guy, sensing my embarrassment, came over and handed me a strip
of cloth that had been draped over his shoulder like a towel. I
wrapped it around my middle. It made for an awful short kilt, but
it was better than nothing.
Ubaldo and Viktor ducked out of a
nearby hut and came bounding over to greet me. I was glad to see
some familiar faces. For a guy who hardly ever smiled, Ubaldo was
wearing a pretty wide grin.
“
How did you do this?” said
Ubaldo. “Did you fall into the ocean? I’m sorry. I could not
stay.”
“
Don’t worry. It’s fine.
Tigger caught me in mid-air.”
“
He stayed for
you?”
“
I guess so.”
“
And did it work? Are you
free?”
“
I suppose so. I got him to
bring me up high. The poor bugger almost froze his tail off. But he
brought me there. And so here I am. Free … at last.”
“
That is awesome!” said
Viktor. “No more fading away for you anymore.”
“
Nope,” I said, though I
was feeling so awesome about the deal.
“
How’s Olivier?”
Ubaldo shrugged. “Fine. He will keep
his limbs … this time.”
“
And Karla?”
As soon as I said her name, I spotted
her, watching me from the edge of a giant lily, acting circumspect
and shy.
“
Hi,” I said, bearing no
grudges. I wasn’t looking for any drama here. I just wanted to tell
her about her sister. “C’mere.”
She approached me cautiously. There
was something weird going on in her eyes. I could never read people
that well, but it looked like her confidence had been knocked down
a peg or two and she even have been a little afraid with just a
smattering of hope.
“
Izzie’s in Drumnadrochit.
She’s looking good.”
“
You saw her?”
“
Yeah. In Drumnadrochit. I
already forgot the address. But she’s just up the road from the
Loch. Staying with a lady named Mrs. Ambrose.”
“
You saw Izzy? My sister?
And she’s alive?”
“
I told you they had found
her. We went to see her. And then … I kinda went and
died.”
Karla winced.
“
James. I’m so sorry. I
never meant for you to go on your own. I always imagined we would
do it together.”
“
Yeah, well. Too late for
that. Drumnadrochit. That’s where you’ll find her. She promised to
stay put till you get there.”
“
But … I should stay here
for you. You just got here. We have lots to talk about.”
“
I have nothing to say. Go.
See your sister.”
“
But we need to
talk.”
“
We don’t need to do
anything. Go!”
And it was almost as if I had the
power to flip a switch and make her fade. Her skin was already
getting blotchy. Maybe she couldn’t hold back her excitement about
seeing Izzie alive, or maybe my will just wanted her out of my face
as soon as possible. But she was gone without ever a hug or a
goodbye kiss or even a goodbye. She was just gone, leaving nothing
behind but a beaded necklace a scarf and a plain shift, all
collapsing in a little heap before me.
I turned to Ubaldo. “So what’s the
deal? Is there still fighting? I saw a bunch of Pennies loading up
their boats.”
“
They are leaving,” said
Viktor. “Abandoning every position they had held.”
“
What the fuck?”
“
It is not just our doing,”
said Ubaldo. “The Old Ones, all of them, have awoken. They still
hold New Axum. The enemy forces there, they were
defeated.”
“
But I thought they were
getting overrun?”
“
They were,” said Viktor.
“But they turned the tables. They brought every old soul on that
mountain out of their long sleep. And there were many more than we
ever knew buried in the overgrowth of the lower terrace. Vicious
fighters. They never give up, those Old Ones.”
“
So what
happened?”
“
They …
prevailed.”
***
I went to see Olivier who was under
the care of a top notch Frelsian flesh weaver. The guy had
apparently had a lot of work done on himself as he had the abs and
shoulders of an Olympic athlete/male supermodel. Olivier had not
let him touch his knobby face or balding head, but he had no
problems allowing the healer to reattach his nearly severed
leg.
Olivier’s eyes brightened when he saw
me. He was under orders not to walk but he lurched to his feet
anyway to give me a hug.
“
Urszula?
Mikal?”
“
They never came back,” I
said, looking down.
“
Oh, that’s a damned shame.
But, did you hear the news? We did it! Chased those fuckers right
off the farm.”
“
They’ll be back,” said
Ubaldo, sneaking in behind me.
“
Yeah, maybe. But at least
we’ve got time now to get ready for the next invasion. With Zhang
gone, we’ve got a chance to do things up right.”
“
What happened to Zhang?” I
said.
“
They tell me he
disappeared when the Pennies overran New Axum. He was negotiating
for a surrender that never happened. My guess is, they took him as
a hostage.”
“
The Pennies can keep him,”
said Ubaldo.
“
Yeah. That’s a pretty
popular sentiment, from what I hear.”
“
So who’s leading the
Frelsians?”
“
Frelsians? There are no
Frelsians. That doesn’t mean anything anymore. We’re all just …
people.”
“
So are people gonna head
back to New Axum?”
“
What for?” said Olivier.
“The war’s over. Folks can go wherever the hell they want. Make new
settlements. It’s a whole new world.”
“
You think Luther will come
back up top?”
“
Who cares?” said Olivier.
“I’m gonna find myself a nice hilltop with a good view and a trout
stream. Weave myself a nice little villa. With all these roots
exposed it’s gonna be real easy to rebuild stuff. We’ve got to work
fast, though. I hear the exposed parts are already repairing
themselves, turning back into stone.”
“
Where will you go?” Ubaldo
asked me.
“
Who me? I don’t know.
Maybe go hang out in that little hollow in the foothills, if it’s
still there.”
“
I hope you can stick
around a while. We’ve got some planning to do. Word is, Ubaldo and
I have been tagged to work on creating a little defense force. I’m
hoping you can help out.”
“
Sure. Why not? It’s not
like I’m in any hurry to go anywhere.”
“
We’ll start meeting as
soon as this Nazi clears me for walking. I tell you he does some
slick work, but he’s a bit too anal retentive for my
taste.”
“
Deal,” I said, my eyes
drifting to the ring of hills, drawn to any speck in the sky that
might pass for a young woman on a dragonfly.
***
I asked if there was a place I could
stay and maybe take a nap. Ubaldo had a young Duster lead me to a
vacant cabin with a thatched roof that looked suspiciously like one
of Bern and Lille’s places. It had two tidy little beds along the
wall, a small table set with tea cups and saucers for
three.
“
Who lived
here?”
The Duster shrugged. “I don’t know.
Some Hemisoul refugees.”
“
Do you know their
names?”
“
No.”
“
What happened to
them?”
“
Who knows? People move
around a lot.”
He left me with a flask of nectar and
some cakes made of yellow pollen. I nibbled a few chunks, which
tasted kind like chalk and laid down on one of the beds, letting
the thousands of thoughts and emotions and experiences of the past
few weeks wash over me. I had a lot of sorting out to do, and what
better way than to sleep?
My nerves were so jangled that it took
some time for sleep to claim me. I did eventually enter a deep
slumber marked by ordinary dreams intermingled with bouts of
cruising consciously in the Singularity. The difference between I
could tell the difference because the latter always was an
intensely social experience. One is never alone in the
Singularity.
As I lay there drifting between dream
states, I became aware of a man and woman bickering over what to
make for dinner. This was not part of a dream. These two of my
dearest and very real Hemisoul friends in their own imperfect
flesh.
“
Not hot cakes again,” said
Bern. “This is a special occasion. We have a guest. Why not make
something out of roots?”
“
I don’t have to remind to
you that our supply of roots is dwindling, Bern. There just aren’t
many sources around here. There is plenty back in the valleys where
the quakes hit, but if you insist on here staying in the bogs,
we’ll just have to get used to subsisting on the local produce …
and so will our guests.”
“
It’s just that … hot cakes
made of that swamp grit, whatever it is, they taste like warmed up
dish rags. Can’t we have something for a change that doesn’t make
my mouth feel like it’s packed with mud?”
My eyelids lifted and I could see them
both sitting at the little table right across from my
bed.
Lille touched Bern’s arm. “He’s
awake.”
They both turned to me, eyes warm and
welcoming.
“
Oh so sorry, James. Were
we speaking too loudly?”
“
No. It’s cool. I should
probably get up.”
“
Did you have a nice
nap?”
“
Yeah. It was kind of weird
… but nice. Nice to wake up to you all. I thought this had to be
your place.”
“
Welcome to rustic cabin
version nine point one. But don’t get used to it. Lille is lobbying
for an upgrade already.”
“
I just want to get out of
this bog before the mosquitoes show up.”
“
Mosquitoes? What the
fuck?”
“
Rumors, James, just
rumors. How could a mosquito survive in a place with no host large
enough to feed on? It is simply not possible.”