by Taylor Kole
“You’re a stupid girl if you want a council with RobertJohnson,” he said, but much of his venom had vanished. He touched his bloody cheek. “Tell me the news. If it promises value, you may leave and I will pass it along.”
“I will deliver it to RobertJohnson myself as he instructed, or you will kill me and suffer. Those are the two paths before you.”
The guard looked around at the other men. He then inspected her with a new level of curiosity
“I am to have his child and be an important woman in Atlantis.”
The leader laughed naturally and carried on for many seconds. As it calmed, he smiled. “Oh young lady, RobertJohnson will not spawn you. But I will believe your words. For your sake, I hope they hold truth. Take her to holding.”
The guards secured her arms with rope, but in front of her, and with care.
“Do not forget to say your prayers, young beauty,” the leader said as he strolled toward the man holding out a flayed piece of an aloe stalk. “I fear your insolence will lead to your suffering.”
She knew her future. She had seen it in a dream. Experienced a vision that told of her importance.
Staring at the man’s face while he soothed his wounds, she memorized his features.
He forgot to beg her forgiveness.
XXIV
In the aftermath of Flavius’ murder, the betrayal of her closest confidant, and the disruption of her life, sleep won out for Junea. A deep long lasting slumber that greeted her with grogginess and aches. When she woke, it took seconds for her to remember her predicament.
She allowed herself a short cry before sneaking around the pavilion to verify she was alone, and fully supplied.
She organized and inventoried a portion of the food and concluded with rationing and small gatherings of nutrition over the next five weeks, she had enough to last the pregnancy.
While eating, her mind wandered over her situation. With zero navigational skills, she would stay within eyesight of the entrance. Forage some of the nasty mites, line small pits with large leaves to assist in rain collection.
Loneliness could become an issue. For now, aches would be her companion. Excluding the struggles inside this sanctuary and the dangers outside, she could birth a child, but a half-god was another question?
Hopefully techniques lay in the tablets. Investigating each one was a top priority. She kept having daydreams of her father sending a rescue team and them arriving before Bellora returned. However, if they didn’t know of her problems, why would they come? She had heard no mention of sending updates to her father. Had it been their intention, they would have brought pigeons.
She chastised herself for not paying better attention to the plans.
She was a little Miss Princess, expecting others to care for her. She only remembered her father saying she would return with a healthy child for them to celebrate. She had embraced that notion so blindly, she assumed it was a foregone conclusion.
After finishing her first meal alone, she returned to the cot in the main room, sat, and wondered how much denser the life in her had grown since yesterday, because it felt like pounds.
Tipping back the flask of water, draining it to the halfway point, she considered her water supply. Five flasks stocked the main room. Each held roughly two days worth of water, giving her plenty until the next rain, but also guaranteeing her trips into the wild to collect more, much more. A dozen large basins she imagined would hold ten flasks sat near the entrance. She planned to try and use large leafs to guide water in from the top opening, thereby eliminating her need to venture out as her pregnancy continued.
If that didn’t work, she would collect water during the rain, which was less risky than the day after. Her goal was to stay alive, and solve each complication as it arose.
Staring at the hall that led outside, and even with the majority of the day having lapsed, she feared exiting. She couldn’t shake this idea Bellora and her brute would be waiting for her.
The next time she saw her young page, she wanted it to be in front of a violation committee, trying her for murder.
The blood smear leading up the hall led to her picturing Flavius’ body laying out in the open. He deserved a proper burial. With her energy replenished, she decided to face her fear, find him, and give him that honor.
She worked open the stone door by ramming it with her shoulder.
The day was warm and bright. A faint coagulation of earth lay at the foot of the door. She followed the obvious blood trail. Fifteen steps later it veered to the right, ending next to a heavily leafed shrub. From the smeared handprints on a few of the leaves, it appeared Flavius had attempted to stand, maybe staunch the wound with one of the many missing leaves. However, by the circle of darkened soil by its base, he had fallen again, and bled out. With no body and no further trail heading away, she accepted a demon had snatched him in the night.
She wiped her tears; he deserved better.
Standing on the quiet path, alone, knowing her soft body would be easy pickings for the fauna around her, she drew her arms in close and returned to the pavilion.
Closing the door, she rested her head on the stone and used her palms to counteract her wobbling equilibrium.
No one was coming to save her. Traveling to Reysona was impossible, even if she knew the directions.
Wandering around the woods might lead her to a nearby town, but most likely, it would send her into the jaws of a predator. And if she reached a village filled with strangers and they learned of her unnatural pregnancy, rather than subject their town to RobertJohnson’s wrath, she would be reported.
This lair was her home. Flavius was dead. Bellora had betrayed her. Junea would rely on herself to survive.
Surveying the generous room, she knew she could. She had to, for her child and for JoshRidley’s legacy.
Now, with a little help from the gods, in the form of Bellora and Ursus being eaten alive or murdered by the border guards, she would come through this a stronger woman. Proud. Battle tested. A mother worthy of JoshRidley’s son.
Wiping away tears of frustration, she said a prayer to her love, for strength, and set about cataloging her duties.
XXV
“I must reiterate, this will be a one way trip,” Dr. Ferrel said from across the desk. “There is no coming back. For better or worse, you’ll finish your life in this form.”
The contrasting dean’s office and examining room design didn’t seem so contrasting on the second visit. It seemed more like where someone got schooled about life.
The studio-quality photograph of the king scorpion was beautiful and made Josh wonder about the other terrarium, Alphaloome. Were they also ruled by an evil god? Did other gods live in the arid sands full time, or was it only populated by first-time visitors?
Looking at the praying mantis photo, Josh felt reverence more than fright. It might be big. It might be he designed to kill, but Dr. Ferrel had under-sold Josh’s attributes. He could do more than kick a desk through a wall. JoshRidley could juggle heavy furniture.
“Are you sure you understand me, Mr. Ridley?”
“Absolutely,” he said as his eyes darted to the pouch of valuable jewels on the desk.
Josh had swiped more money than needed and hadn’t taken the time to analyze why. He considered leaving Karen a sum for a consolation prize, lose a meal ticket, gain a chunk of cash. But then decided that criminal conspiracy would make a terrible parting gift.
He had even considered dropping a sprinkle of wealth in the hands of a homeless person, but decided he couldn’t tell which one deserved a lump sum, a dollar, or even change. Nearly all homeless people earned their passage to the street by betraying loved ones, lacking respect, and burning the bridges erected by dozens of helpful people throughout their lives. In a free society, people’s actions decided their fate.
For the first time as an adult, Josh had committed deplorable acts, but he had a goal of greater good in mind, and was too far along to second-guess his actions.<
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In the end, he had offered the additional money as a gratuity for LLI incorporated; as a bribe to quell the argument about him returning to Betaloome instead of Apotheosis. They could use it to bolster the worlds, or to continue greasing whatever palms kept their technology from the public.
Finding Dr. Ferrel watching him, he reaffirmed by saying, “I understand.”
“Great. Now, if you want, I can drop you somewhere near your friend, Kyle Skinner. Apotheosis is incomprehensibly large, offering more land and sea than our own planet, minus the swift travel and video exploration. I should warn you, Mr. Skinner asked to be inserted into a populated area, known for its violence, but together—”
“I’m not here to reconnect with Kyle Skinner.”
Dr. Ferrel leaned back. “Fair enough. He did intimate for you to follow him should you return. Two gods working together can make an impression, even in a world as fabled as Apotheosis. I hear the last duo, a married couple, have become quite the legend.”
“I’d like to return to Betaloome.”
Running a hand through his curly hair, Dr. Ferrel studied him for a minute. His eyes averted to the payment. “As far as I know, there is a ruling god in Betaloome. A nasty fellow who doesn’t allow other gods to return? Unless something has changed, perhaps you should consider entering one of the thousands of cities of Apotheosis. There are millions of square miles where no gods have ever set foot.”
“I appreciate your concern, doctor. But I am paying an inflated fee to be inserted into Betaloome. I will work out the politics with the resident god.”
Dr. Ferrel cleared his throat. “You are the client. It’s just... beyond the danger and possible conflict, Betaloome’s area could become restraining. It’s roughly the size of Connecticut. In the centuries you have remaining, you may find you long for new sights, for new oceans, exotic cultures.”
That morning, Josh saw a pregnant woman crossing Michigan Avenue. The sight of a pregnant woman reminded him of Junea and caused him to run to the jeweler’s. He couldn’t live without helping Junea come to term. Sitting in front of this man, he knew to stay with Karen would be cruel to both of them. Toss in that Flavius was like the nephew he always wanted, that he had been given the opportunity to save a nation, and he had never been so sure of anything in his life.
Also, he didn’t envision the same degree of trouble etched on Dr. Ferrel’s face. RobertJohnson wanted to live as much as he did. All people wanted the same things, to be loved, to be a good person, to be worthy of respect. No one was instinctively deviant. Wickedness is a trait people use to hide their shame of previous deeds. He and RobertJohnson would reach agreeable terms, even if that meant Josh had to spend the next decade clearing out the lower nations to make them a home far away from Atlantis.
“How about at least one last drink before we get you to your new life?”
Josh stood. “No thank you.” Every minute he wasted here was a quarter of an hour inside—a quarter of an hour less he would spend living like a god.
Dr. Ferrel rose. “Is there anything else?”
“Only that I need to be inserted into the lowest level, Eludius.”
“That’s impossible,” Dr. Ferrel sat back down. “Have you heard nothing of the Eludians? Cannibals that blanket a land of anarchy. They survive the swarm of predators with sheer numbers.”
“And you think I couldn’t defeat them?”
“You’d be overwhelmed. But… have you researched Hierodula, our resident species of praying mantis? There are dozens of them on Eludius. Dozens. Massive females that spend all day gorging.”
Josh studied the picture on the wall. Hundreds of razor sharp points covered the arms. The mantis mouth looked powerful enough to process junked automobiles.
“Their bodies are segmented into three parts. Like all mantis, their exteriors are armored. Hierodula also have wings which lay across their backs, making that area virtually impenetrable. They not only eat all day, they snatch anything that moves. With a healthy food supply, and an avoidance of other’s territories, they thrive. A few always find their way to Dacathius, maybe one or two reach Carmanthius and live nice lives, but trying to cross Eludius is suicide, even for a team of gods.”
Josh thought back to how his blade had split open the demon queen. How each axe he swung at the piled logs had been targeted precisely, halving the kindling with ease. Then he pictured a swarm of madmen with painted faces descending on him by the millions, of a seventy-foot-tall dragon picking him out from a crowd. His goal was to live. He sought Dr. Ferrel and then looked at the eastern wall, where beyond lay the giant warehouse holding Apotheosis. He thought of Karen, of Skinner, of prison. He thought of Junea. The best lovemaking of his life. The child she carried. He remembered Flavius telling him RobertJohnson watched the top three levels’ Hall of Gods.
“How about Dacathius, can I be dropped there?”
Dr. Ferrel said, “You would likely die there. It has pockets of civilization. It’s your life, Mr. Ridley, I only want to suggest an easy insert into Betadrius, or…” He nodded toward Apotheosis.
“I’ve made my decision, and from here on out, address me as JoshRidley.”
XXVI
Josh woke supine and groggy, the world around him was dark. He briefly wondered if he was dreaming. Opening his eyes wide dispelled the notion. It had been afternoon in the old world. It was nighttime in Betaloome.
Pushing aside the initial annoyance of having to idle away the hours until the suns glowed, he kept his eyes skyward. He’d never felt so grateful.
Laying on his back, with his knees up, heels near his rump, he felt the mass of his quads, the width and expanse of his chest, the power surging through his veins, and he marveled at his luck.
Whispers intruded his moment of grace. As Josh honed-in, he noticed a soft glow flickering just beyond his peripheral. He heard feet shuffling against the stadium stand, indicating a human presence. Curious more than concerned, for fear was the go-to emotion of his old world, he sat upright. Wrapping his meaty arms around his knees, he squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them to be sure he was really awake.
In this Hall of the Gods, small fires burned in the arena floor and in the stands. A throng of people, obviously spooked by his arrival, created a silent wall of onlookers.
Rising to his feet, reveling in his naked form to the point that he had to refrain from helicoptering, Josh inventoried his surroundings.
He was glad he hadn’t danced. The crowd was one hundred percent children. There were children. The oldest couldn’t have been more than fourteen, fifteen. He covered himself and sought out a place to run for privacy.
Thankfully, none of the females seemed as bold as Bellora. They simply stared. The kids were dirty, dressed in rags, malnourished. Many trembled.
Past them, he noticed blankets and makeshift pillows laid in rows along the sand and lean-to shelters erected along the perimeter.
“Clothes,” he yelled—a bit too forcefully, judging by the jerk reactions.
Nevertheless, a shower of garments rained at his feet.
Every pair of shorts he selected was too small and riddled with holes. When he finally found a pair usable as boxers, he pulled the leather coverings over his thighs and cinched the waist. He didn’t bother looking for a shirt and there were no sandals in sight.
A man’s voice made him whirl in time to see the crowd parting. A figure towered over the young populace was wiping sleep from his eyes as he approached, led by a young boy.
“Identify yourself. Why do you disturb the Hall of the Gods?”
“That would be my question to you.”
The unnatural bass in Josh’s voice froze the man. He squinted through the dim firelight, then crept closer until he stopped at the edge of the group of children.
“I’m Remus. Guardian of the children. Now, tell me from what village you hail and why you have invaded us? We have no food to spare.”
Josh wasn’t sure if the staff was a walking aid or
a weapon. Remus seemed too young to need assistance, but he had approached with a silent gait. If the carved wood was a weapon, and Remus was their defender, Josh hoped they avoided all confrontation.
“I am JoshRidley, returned from Earth.”
Remus motioned for a torch held behind him and wiped his face before extending the light source. Even with fifteen feet of separation, Josh’s body drew an audible gasp when the flicker of light washed over him. The man dropped to his knees while staring wide-eyed at Josh. Voice quivering, he said, “Is it true that a god has been delivered to Dacathius?”
Murmurs traveled through the crowd like an oiled wick touched by a flame, crackling sparks of excitement. Children followed Remus and dropped in supplication, others whispered.
“Don’t bow. Please, I’m here to help.”
Tears streamed down the man’s face. “It’s really true?” he gasped. “Oh, great lord, we have suffered for so long.”
Before Josh could formulate a reply that gently informed this man he had arrived for Betadrius, for the protection of his friends, a young boy darted out from the crowd.
“No, Tiberius,” Remus shouted.
A boy, around seven years old, stopped a foot before Josh and poked at his strong thigh. Finding no give to the pressure, he squealed with delight and ran back into the crowd.
Laughing, Josh relaxed. He now lived in Betaloome. Assisting with their problems might not happen today, but he stood in his kingdom, and their pain presented a new responsibility.
The boy with the famous name once again skittered to a stop before JoshRidley, earning a few chuckles.
This time he smiled up at Josh, and when Josh smiled back, Tiberius kicked his shin, with no effect, and then stood defiant. Smiling brightly, he said, “Why are you standing there? Go kill all of the demons so I can return to mama.”
Josh’s smirk faltered as he turned and found a hundred faces watching him.
Remus clamored to his feet, approached, and took Tiberius by the hand, “Come boy, we serve the gods. They do not serve us.” He put the child behind him and addressed Josh. “How may we serve you?”
