A Shrouded World 6

by Mark Tufo

  I was completely unsure what a gurig was, but it sounded terrible, and if it had nearly taken out Kalandar, now seemed like an excellent time to stall entry.

  “Why me and not BT?” I asked.

  “I was told to save you all if I could, but it was imperative that you and Trip made it out—that only you too could end this place,” Kalandar spoke.

  “Trip, I don’t know what’s going on here. How can I be that important?”

  Trip had a tear in his eye. “You’re my friend, Ponch, and I can’t do this without you. Plus, we’re from the same reality, so it makes things easier if we get back together. There’s only so much I can do. I’m…I don’t know how to say this, but there may not be a place for Jack to go back to.”

  I was taken aback by that. Had he died? Had his world? Trip was close-mouthed.

  “With friends like you…” I said hotly. Whether Jack was dead or alive in another realm didn’t matter; he lived here, and I was going to make sure he stayed that way, if and when we found him. “We’re not leaving BT here and we’re all getting back.” I meant the words I’d spoken though I didn’t have too many reasons to believe them. Stubborn determination, maybe. Certainly not facts. We were on the move.

  Got to within fifty feet of the front steps; I looked to Kalandar. This was about the spot he’d given us up. If it bothered him in any way, he showed no signs of it. Maybe he was too busy looking at what was watching our approach.

  “What the actual fuck?” The beast standing on the top of the stairs was unlike anything I’d ever seen in my life. It was stark white and the size of a tandem city bus. It had a segmented body, somewhat like an ant, but the head was triangular, the point ending in a mouth as long as my arm. I saw two fangs nearly six feet in length hanging down each side of its mouth. If that wasn’t bad enough, translucent wings stretched away from its body. The resultant buzzing from the flapping vibrations was loud enough to drown out a conversational tone.

  “Gurig,” Kalandar said grimly. “Be careful; the fangs are poisonous.”

  I somehow thought that if I was impaled by one of those mouth-swords, the poison was going to be a secondary issue. I wrongly assumed a flying bus would be unwieldy, and then I wrongly assumed there would only be one gurig. Another took its place at the doorway as the first was getting an aerial view of our party. I grabbed an isit leg; it was my only means of defense.

  “Won’t work,” Trip said, looking over at me. “Gurigs eat isits, usually starting with the legs.”

  Maybe I wanted to know how he knew that, or maybe I wanted to reevaluate how important, in the grand scheme of things, was it really to save BT.

  “I will cause a distraction. It will be up to you get past and in,” Kalandar said.

  “Maybe I should cause a distraction and you get past that thing,” I offered.

  “Which of us do you perceive the gurigs will believe a bigger threat and thus more effectively garner their attention?”

  “Trip, help me out here.” I looked over; he had his tongue firmly clenched between his teeth as he loaded a rock onto the slingshot attached to his wrist.

  “I have an idea,” Trip said. Not that anything I ever came up with was sound, but Trip coming up with a battle plan was like trying to launch an aircraft with rubber bands.

  “Is that your plan?” I asked as we all turned to the sound of a helicopter rotor ripping through the air.

  “Not me, I swear,” he replied.

  The gunship came into view. It spent more than an inordinate amount of time looking at us before swiveling to the much more significant threat. By inordinate, I mean three or four seconds, but when you’re staring down an arsenal that can pretty much wipe the side of a mountain clean, yeah, that’s plenty. Did the only prudent thing we could while the person in the helicopter battled the gurigs: we hid. They were being shot with missiles and heavy cannon fire and were still in the fight. I’d mistakenly thought I would have been able to do something with my rifle; the only thing I would have accomplished was satisfying some caloric intake for the monsters.

  The battle was spectacular, although I would have enjoyed it much better watching it on a big screen from the confines of a sports bar. When it was over, that menacing machine once again turned its attention to us. Was the pilot indiscriminate in who they killed? Trip raised his slingshot; I followed suit with my rifle. Kalandar, with the most potent weapons of us three, did nothing. Sure, I was appreciative of the helo plowing the roadway for us, but I’d be damned if I was going to become part of the chaff.

  “Anyone know what’s going on?” I asked. I was hesitant to shoot first because we were completely outclassed. Secondly, if I fired, the pilot would be forced to respond in kind. But shooting first was our only option; if he or she started, it would be over that quickly. I decided to err on the side of wishful thinking, and began waving at the pilot, hoping he would appreciate the friendly gesture. Then the unexpected happened as the helicopter came down to earth.

  “Is that Otter?” I asked, after he spoke.

  He gave a hesitant wave as he stepped out.

  “Mike.”

  “Jack?”

  “What are you doing with him?” He was pointing to Kalandar.

  I was pretty sure it was Jack, but the last time I’d seen him fly a helicopter, it was like watching a stoned teenager hop into a car for driver’s ed. I should know; it was me. I think my instructor quit after that season, something about his heart couldn’t take the stress of teaching idiots how to drive.

  “Jack?” I asked again.

  “Who do you think it is?” He seemed a little irate, or maybe he was still jacked up on adrenaline from the battle. Hell, I was, and I hadn’t done a damn thing. He had his rifle up.

  “If you shoot me, I will lay waste to your entire lineage!” Kalandar roared.

  “Good luck with that! Shall I climb back into the chopper and we can find out whose lineage gets to live on?” Jack yelled back, turning back toward the helo.

  “Whoa, whoa! Let’s not have a dimensional incident! Jack (I still wasn’t sure), Kalandar is on our side.”

  Jack paused and turned back around. “Bullshit. I was there, Mike, or have you forgotten?”

  “Would be tough to do that, especially after what I’ve been through.” I started walking forward, Kalandar and Trip were coming with me. “How about you two stay here for a sec until I get this under control?” I had my hand up.

  “Here, give him this.” Trip handed over a large blue pill.

  “What the hell is this?” I figured it was something that would allow Jack to see reality for what it was or something along those lines; certainly wasn’t expecting the answer I got.

  “Quaalude. That’ll mellow him right out.” Trip was smiling.

  “Yeah, that’s not going to work,” I told him. “I’ll hold on to this, though,” I said as I put it in my pocket.

  “Not cool, Ponch.”

  “Don’t hand out things you don’t want to share then.” I crossed the fifty yards, just till Jack and I were within talking distance. He, as of yet, had not relaxed all that much. “You have no idea how good it is to see you,” I told him.

  “Are you the Mike I’m looking for?”

  “Beats me, but I’m the one you’re stuck with.”

  “You sound like him enough. New duds?”

  “I could ask you the same question. It’s been an interesting year.”

  I moved forward and we shook hands. We spent the next fifteen minutes giving a recap of all the events that had transpired since we’d gone into the pavilion.

  “You escaped? I didn’t think that was an option. I would have preferred that,” I told him. But then, looking in Jack’s eyes, I saw the haunted expression that battle with other humans can leave you with. Enemy or not, it begins to burn holes through your soul. “Or maybe not.” I clapped his shoulder. “Still good to see you, man.”

  “Yeah, it’s good to see you as well, but whatever we’re going to do from here
on out has to be quick. I can’t imagine my unit is going to be overly thrilled I stole one of their war machines.”

  “I suppose BT should be our first stop.”

  I saw it in Jack’s expression; he wasn’t a fan of anything that was going to hinder us, but this wasn’t up for debate, and I suppose he knew that.

  “Are you sure about Kalandar?” he asked as we began walking back.

  “As sure as I can be; he didn’t come with a manual.”

  “You know, Mike, there are times I appreciate your humor. It can make a difficult situation bearable. However, this isn’t one of them.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you to make the situation better. He’s here.”

  “I only trust you,” he said, glancing at the demon, then squinting at Trip. “You get that, right?”

  And I did. Hard to trust a man who was perpetually stoned, but above and beyond that, had also somehow dragged us into a war that had no rules and was barely understandable. And Kalandar…is it ever wise to trust a demon? It was like trusting a Bengal Tiger; you really can’t be overly surprised when it decides to maul you and rip your face off. And then we throw an out of shape BT into the mix, a man who was reluctant to fight, especially with a firearm; someone who could barely get out of their own way when shit hit. And yet somehow, that was the band we were stuck with. I trusted Trip. In a twisted way, I did. And the BT in the building, it wasn’t exactly the man I knew, but it was, as well. The man I called my best friend, parts of him were in there. It was our misgivings about Kalandar we could agree on.

  “I get it, man, trust me, I do. But I think we’re going to need everyone here to get through whatever it is we’ve got to get through.”

  “But that’s the thing, isn’t it? We don’t know what we’re going to be getting through. I’m sick of being reactionary. All we’re doing is responding to the threats thrown our way. Even when we think we’re taking the fight to them, we end up on the defensive, fighting for our lives.”

  He was right, again. How did I respond to that? I would have loved to tell him things were going to change and that we were on the cusp of figuring this out and reuniting with our loved ones. But for all I knew, this had just barely started, or maybe this version of us was caught in a loop the likes of which we were never going to be able to escape from. And according to Trip, it was very likely Jack wasn’t going anywhere ever. Jack kept a respectable distance from Kalandar when we got back.

  “Yack!” Trip exclaimed.

  Jack merely frowned.

  “Give him the pill, Ponch. I think he needs it.” Trip nudged me.

  “I need it more. Let’s go,” I said, referring to getting BT. We climbed up the stairs; it was slow going as Jack and Kalandar kept giving sidelong glances to each other. I was concerned about having to get in the middle of a fight. When we got to the top and were standing on the large entryway, Jack spoke.

  “If we go in, does it spring the trap again?” he asked.

  I’d been about two strides from going in when he asked. That thought had never dawned on me. No wonder I was always trying to extract myself from trouble I’d walked willingly into.

  “Trip?”

  “Should be fine,” he said as he tellingly took a step backward.

  “You suck,” I told him.

  “I was able to pull you free,” Kalandar said.

  “Are you offering to get BT?” I asked hopefully. He pulled a very human stunt and looked away while whistling. It was strange to see this huge, red, fierce, demon standing there nonchalantly, whistling. “Trip, if I’m gone for another fucking year, I am going to take all of your weed and toss it in a furnace.”

  “How dare you!” He clamped his hands over his pockets.

  “This sucks,” I said as I headed for the doorway. I thought for a moment on just how many times I had uttered that phrase and all the situations I found myself in that necessitated it.

  “Do you me to come with you?” Jack asked.

  “I do, but no. If this goes sideways—”

  “Or upside down,” Trip threw in for good measure.

  “Or upside down, I need you to be out here.” Without saying it, I was telling him that it was him I trusted to get me out. Kalandar, and even Trip, to a degree, had reasons for doing what they were and my safety may or may not be paramount to their plans. Jack, on the other hand, would do everything he could to get me back. I needed to know that option was viable. I stepped in. Within one stride, all outside sounds disappeared. It was so quiet I could hear my heart hammering in my ears. I stepped back out to be sure I could. Ambient noise rushed back.

  “Are you all right?” Jack asked.

  “How long have I been gone? Your facial hair looks longer.”

  “You stepped in and stepped right back, and I don’t need to shave just yet.”

  “Okay, okay.” I took a breath and headed back in and was immediately encased in the all-encompassing silence. Strange how stillness can be menacing. Like the world was drawing its own breath, pausing before revealing all the terrors it had been holding on to. Shouldn’t be long before chainsaw-wielding clowns began to flood the area. The walls that had sprung up from the floor were no longer there; I was looking at the vast expanse of the room, and halfway dead center was a lump that didn’t belong: BT.

  “Couldn’t be closer to the door?” I asked. The only reason I’d said it aloud was to drown out the irregular thrumming in my ears. I’d gone twenty yards and turned, my exit still clearly visible and, oh yeah, I wanted to make a run for it and again reassure myself that it would remain.

  My routine became three steps forward, turn and look for the doorway, and resume. If the walls rose again, what was my response going to be? The closer I got, the more convinced I was that BT was dead. He was as unmoving as a stone. There was no rise and fall of his chest, no breathing sounds, no twitching limbs in acknowledgment of a nightmarish dream. Nothing. I could not help but believe I was risking my life for a dead man. But Marines never left their own behind. I could argue he wasn’t one of mine, and maybe convince myself of that in the short term. I continued regardless.

  I was looking down on him, my door to freedom a faint, shining light some hundred yards or more away. It took long seconds until I saw him move, his breathing so light a sparrow would have been struggling for air.

  “BT.” Not sure why I said it softly. “BT!” I yelled. Nothing again. It was then I remembered why I was still carrying the trash bag. “I’m sorry about this,” I said as I carefully reached in, grabbed a gross leg, and stabbed him in the thigh. His eyelids fluttered like he was trying to come up from whatever depths he’d plunged into. I felt a rumble under my feet; I wasn’t sticking around to figure out what it was. I bent over, wrapped my hands under BT’s arms and started hauling ass backwards. We were halfway there; the rumbling had intensified.

  “What the fuck is going on!” BT had awakened. Pissed and confused are two useful adverbs to describe him.

  “Don’t know. If you can get up and run, right now would be a good time to do it, if not, do your best to help.” I pulled the isit leg free and tossed it to the side.

  “Do I want to know?”

  I shook my head.

  “Where am I?” he asked. I was thankful he was scooting his legs backward, mostly in time with my movements because he was like dragging one of those tractor sleds. Not sure if you’ve ever been to a tractor pull competition, but for some unfathomable reason, they get heavier the further the tractor pulls it, and that was what this was feeling like at that very moment. Maybe BT was made of metal and the floor was slowly being magnetized.

  “What the fuck?” I asked, grunting, his weight doubling. I was sweating, pulling harder and moving less. It was safe to say that the forces in charge had decided to make our escape as difficult as possible. The rumbling intensified; I had a feeling this was what a world-class earthquake felt like and seriously, I wasn’t a fan.

  “Up!” Kalandar shouted.

  BT had
turned to look when he saw the demon coming toward us; any assistance he had been lending turned to resistance. His sudden shift pulled me over, sending me sprawling to the side. I quickly flipped over and was on my hands and knees, trying to find the balance to stand against the floor movement. My first attempt failed spectacularly as I cracked the side of my head into what felt like marble. There was a starburst of pain and maybe a Tweetie bird or two as I shook the effects away. Pretty sure I needed to go into concussion protocol.

  Kalandar was running, his strides immensely lengthy. He was upon us in moments. BT was still struggling to get away as big red reached down and snagged the front of his pants. I did not think the tortured material would be able to heft the man’s weight without giving way. Kalandar gave me the briefest of glances; I think he felt I’d nodded to the fact that I could do this on my own, but more likely, it was my head bobbing from the forces being applied. Kalandar was halfway back to the relative safety outside by the time I got up and underway.

  I watched as Kalandar tossed BT through the doorway like a sack of potatoes. I could only hope Jack didn’t try to catch the airborne man. Then, as if it wasn’t weird enough, Kalandar ramped it up. He turned but did not advance. My initial thought was he was blocking my egress. I was going to shoot him, but how I was going to get my rifle up to my shoulder and fire anything even remotely competent when I could barely stand…it seemed unlikely I’d be able to hit him. His hands began to glow, soon he would be sending some hellish nightmare energy ball into and through me. A halo of reddish-purple appeared over his head and spread downward, encasing his body in what I would guess was a protective cocoon. Even if I could shoot now, the odds were high it would be ineffective.

  In contrast to the color around him, a pencil-thin line of green appeared, much like a laser, and shot straight up into the ceiling where it splashed out like a wave cresting over a lighthouse. I didn’t stay to see the end result, as I got past him and dove for the exit. BT was furiously rubbing an elbow he’d crash-landed on. I narrowly missed him and was barely able to slow down before I had to make a jump off the steps.