Whatever Gods May Be (35 page)

Again, parts of her future could not yet be gleaned, though there were flashes of places and things which she could now begin to suspect would come into play within hours.  Watching Zolan whisked off the beach by the Birdog, Valry couldn't help but wonder about his giant craft, now apparently lost beneath tons of salt water.  Somehow, the great round ball should not have been destroyed.  Had a mistake been made, she wondered abstractly.  Had this one small point been overlooked in the great cosmic paperwork of destiny?

She was free now, but it was this first time to be a short-lived freedom.  As she had been whisked away from Zolan's company so quickly, so now she was being dragged back down into the dark, cold environs of human agony.  Again, she realized that the next time she escaped her body, more power and wisdom would accompany her exit.  But for now, the price for a future glory, must be paid in full.

Her last moments of sublime consciousness revolved around Thalick, the beloved Stinger who had shared her visions of the future ten million years before her birth.

His destiny, too, lay hidden still.

How would he, along with the other nine angelic benefactors to humanity, fit into the day of deliverance yet to come?

This was the last, silent question Valry Phillips asked before she found herself once again drowning in the fires of earthly bondage...and excruciating pain.

She waits for each and other,

She waits for all men born;

Forgets the earth her mother,

The life of fruits and corn;

And spring and seed and swallow

Take wing for her and follow

Where summer song rings hollow

And flowers are put to scorn.

THIRTY-EIGHT

The screams around her seemed miles away, but when Valry opened her already pure-red pupils, she could see that the inhuman howls belonged to hundreds of snarling, enraged creatures, shaking their arms and biting one another.  She had nothing in her memory that she could compare her vision to: all shapes, lights and shadows were elongated and distorted, as if she had been drugged by some powerful hallucinogenic, and these living nightmares were the product of such abuse.

She could not move, and even the effort involved in blinking an eye seemed to trigger off a rush of pain that sizzled her body from head to toe.  Aside from the crowd of vampires surrounding her, there was not much detail Valry could discern with regards to her location or her company.

An answer was nevertheless forthcoming.  "I don't believe I have ever had the privilege of having my distinguished opposition in such a rare state of helplessness," a silky voice whispered in one ear, "But I can tell you what a pleasure it is."

With Herculean effort, Valry pushed herself off of her side, onto her stomach.  A wavy face crystallized before her.  Surprisingly, it was far from monstrous, though it did retain the same, bizarre configuration that was now part of her transformed eyesight.

"Are you in much pain?" the figure asked, smiling, with a tone of mimic in its voice.

Valry neither spoke or nodded.  She just stared obliquely at the handsome creature standing over her.  Behind him, Valry could make out structures of some sort; rubble in various scenes of disarray.

"Welcome to my city," the face continued, "and your prison.  Unlike what you have forced me to endure in the past, this place will not be uncomfortable for you very much longer.  It will be your home before long.  Will you like that, Valry?"

Suddenly, she was being roughly handled, placed in a sitting position facing the mob of red-eyed demons.  If there was an advantage to the hateful new sight she possessed, it was in slowly being able to piece together the dim surroundings of this hateful place.  Slowly, she could make out the delineations of stone and mortar, including a great round slab of concrete she herself was resting on like a prize on a pedestal.  In a way, she guessed vaguely, this was exactly what she had become.

"Now, my friends," the horribly attractive voice began, "I would like you to meet a very old acquaintance of mine."

Valry guessed that by the puzzled grunts and howls of the Redeyes that the speaker understood that they were oblivious to what he was saying.  His words meant nothing to them, and she sensed that he was delivering his speech solely for her and his own twisted, self-righteous ego.

"By the way," the Resistor asked in mock politeness, "How should I address you this time?"

Again, Valry only stared at her tormenter in silence.  Fortunately , pain was a more insistent distraction, so she did not feel enormous fear.  Her hideous transformation from human into vampire would in a way provide an outlet for her torment, rather than listen to the ridiculous spiel yet to come from her enemy.

"I give you, my friends, the Anointed One; the Lamb, the I Am of eternity," and with this, hysterical, almost childish laughter escaped the lips of the menacing Resistor.

"She has come to save Mankind -- your enemy, my loyal, stupid little fans.  She has come to destroy you, and to usurp my position here on Earth.  Oh, don't be deceived.  She looks like one of you, now, courtesy of my own ingeniousness, but she is very different.  She is infinitely more dangerous.  For if she knew she could, she would even try to save you.  From me:"

And again, the Resistor broke into a cold, uncontrolled laughter that silenced every gibbering Redeye in the chamber.

The Resistor was standing several feet away from her, and Valry could now make out detail of form.  He was human, by all appearances, with an appealing face that was almost beatific to behold.  He wore only one piece of clothing; a white body-length robe that turtle-necked around his chin.  Aside from his simple beauty, the Resistor did not look terribly frightening; in fact, there was something quite angelic to his demeanor.

Valry thought it was a colorful contrast to the naked, gurgling chimp-like throng of Redeyes the Resistor was now mockly addressing.

"But," the beautiful one continued, "we have no reason to fear her.  For the first time ever, the Blessed Shepard is under my domination.  The war that began eons ago - that cost me my rightful place among the stars, and cast me to the darkest regions of hell - has now ended with my victory.  A new dynasty begins today.  A new King has been born!"

Howls of enthusiastic noncomprehension filled the dark halls of the crumbling arena.

"We begin our rule today.  This night.  We have but one last task before us, and then we can rest.  It is important business, and can no longer be prolonged.  But first," the Resistor paused melodramatically, "I have a special treat for all of you."

The Resistor stepped over to where Valry was weaving back and forth in painful convulsions.  She did not even look up at him when he faced her.

"How does it feel to be the loser, Messiah? For once, you underestimated my power.  You are useless on this world; nothing can save it now.  You are a criminal here.  A criminal of war," the Resistor whispered confidentially to Valry, then rose again to speak to the masses.

"I give you, my friends, your first opportunity of worthiness," the Resistor chuckled, waving casually towards the dying girl, "You must try her case among you, and come to a decision about her punishment.  I leave the matter in your wise hands -- for I wash mine of it completely."

The Resistor shrieked with happiness.  The noisy vampires listening in dumb, animal joy, also howled their approval.

"When we return from our journey, I shall allow you to exercise your verdict.  In the meantime, prepare to leave this place and follow me to glory."

Valry was now close to unconsciousness again.  She was only vaguely aware of the gradual quieting of the vast underground arena she was entombed in.  But there was still sufficient human blood remaining in her metamorphosizing veins to still chill as the Resistor spoke to her for the last time.

"When you see me again, you will know that your precious tribe is dead.  Your father will have been shredded to bits.  And your meddling insect friends will be one step closer towards extinction.  In the meantime, my fattened and lost little lamb, you will remain here alone.  Soon, you will be one of them; starved, pained demons that will never know anything more than the torment of perpetual famishment.  No thought, no rest, no hope; only hate and hunger.  You will shortly come to understand personally what kind of hell you consigned me to ages ago.  And," the Resistor said slowly, "not even your power will save you from that."

He was holding her hand again, the one called Valry.  And though no words were spoken between them, no language present, a kind of bond had developed that transcended even thought.

She was as beautiful as before, though this time Zolan noticed, she appeared stronger; no longer was there a panicked, girlish terror in her demeanor.  Though she retained the same magnetic attraction which Zolan had first noticed was so irresistible, the Valry standing next to him was a creature that commanded respect and attention.  For all the marvel of the transformation, the one thing about Valry that had remained exactly the same as before were her eyes.  Still kind, still hauntingly compassionate, and even more, almost loving as she stared at Zolan, Valry's eyes were magical beacons of radiance that he quickly found himself lost in.

Zolan remembered the same cloudy surroundings as before, and he wondered now if, once he awakened, he would be able to recall everything about this place, and its mystical inhabitant.  He was now convinced that the experience was much more than a dream.  Everything was too clear, too real, and as if he were afraid it might evaporate in another second, Zolan squeezed Valry's hand a little tighter in his.  He felt the warm rush of excitement flow through him as the squeeze was reciprocated.

At the moment, there was no need for words.  Somehow, both he and Valry had become closer to one another.  The revelation was too profound to analyze; it was as if, simply, he had known her all of his life.  In her company, he realized that all parts of his past paled into insignificance.  Even the recent horrors of the rat attack, and the escape from Earth, disappeared into a wisp of smoke; in a way, he felt as if he would never have to deal with these problems ever again.  Perhaps, he wouldn't, Zolan considered in a flaring moment of lucidity: For what if he was going mad?

He stiffened at once.  Valry stopped walking and turned to face him.

"No, Zolan, you aren't losing your mind.  I promise you." Zolan held her gaze, and relaxed almost immediately.  He believed her without question, though he could not say why.  She seemed so calm, so self-assured, and as he continued to hold her, this same sense of confidence washed over him as well.

Valry was smiling now.  Zolan couldn't help but remember how frightened she had been the last time he had met her.  This last thought reminded him of the Rover again, and of the few hours following his last dream of her.

"The Resistor," he blurted out suddenly, "I, uh, think I know what he is."

Valry nodded and closed her eyes.  "So do I, Zolan.   But you're no longer afraid."

Valry paused, looking deeply into Zolan's eyes.  She fought for words.

"Part of me still is; that part of me that is dying and in pain.  Part of me knows there is nothing to fear at all.  Since we've last met, Zolan, I've grown stronger; I see things with a clarity I didn't have before.  The face of evil - the Resistor - is no longer a thing I need to be frightened of.  But it is something which must be controlled."

Zolan nodded, not completely understanding, but allowing a smile of his own creep over his mouth.  He let go of his hands and studied the strange, wavy environment surrounding them both.

"I asked you once before, but you didn't know.  Where are we?"

"I would ask you first, Zolan, if you believe in the human spirit.  Or the indestructibility of the soul itself."

Zolan shrugged, alternately staring at Valry and the gentle flashing of lights above, below and around where he was standing.  "What does that have to do with where we are?"

"Because, this place is not part of the outside world, or anything you would understand, if you didn't first believe that there is more to human existence than living and dying."

"Are you saying that we're dead?" Zolan asked, a little bit of the old cynical PO creeping back into his voice.

Valry laughed at this, and walked over to him.  She took his hands in hers again.

"We're very much alive.  More so here than anywhere else.  You think we're communicating through some simple, mental trick called telepathy.  Believe me, this is much more.  Here, we are closer than any two human beings could ever be anywhere else."

Zolan cleared his throat awkwardly, and stepped back in embarrassment.

"That, uh, seems...awfully close."

Valry laughed again and just stared at Zolan with clear amusement.  Zolan couldn't help but chuckle himself, as he stood there looking into the strange young woman's marvelous eyes.  He wanted to ask her so many questions; who she was, where she came from, why she was here.  But in this moment near her, all these specifics were rendered unimportant.  He was not sure he believed all she had said, but at the same time, he could not come up with a better explanation as to how he had arrived here with her.