Infinity spoke up. “You and your friends back off. There are now 160 of us. You’re outnumbered. If you try to force us to leave before all our people have arrived, we’ll fight. People will die. Your people mostly. Is that what you want?”
The yellow and black man was still staring at the new arrivals, possibly not even having heard Infinity’s words. Finally, he shifted his gaze and looked at her and Desmond. “This is mongrel shenanigans, but you ain’t no mongrels.” Then he seemed to realize he was speaking aloud and cupped his hand to his mouth again. He whispered, “What in hellfire damnation are you?”
“We’re humans, just like you,” Desmond said softly. “We’re refugees, trying to escape from our dying Earth. We came here hoping to make a new home.”
The man eyed Desmond suspiciously. Like all the other native men and women, his hair was cropped short, but not in a neat, styled way. Instead, it appeared to have been sawed off with a steak knife. Similarly, the man’s beard and paint-covered pubic hairs had been haphazardly hacked to less than an inch long. The paint on his body, although striking in appearance, was smudged in places. His face, hands, and bare feet—the only parts not painted—were scarred and dirt-stained.
“Whatever you are,” the man hissed, “you ain’t taking our food, and you ain’t got no right to our bailiwick or our raptures. As for my kin being outnumbered, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“Oh, shit,” Infinity said.
Desmond looked. More natives were approaching—a lot more. They were moving steadily through the forest in a pack, at least two hundred of them. Among them were children, also painted in various colors and patterns. Many of the approaching people held rocks in their hands, prepared to throw them.
“Find rocks to use as weapons!” Infinity called out to the refugees behind her. “Be ready to use them!”
The refugees whispered to each other and shuffled through the dried leaves looking for rocks. For whatever reason, the mongrels didn’t seem to mind the use of rocks, although they obviously had a problem with spears. The mongrels do not fancy human-made contrivances. That’s what Abel had said.
The painted people advanced silently until they were standing in a mass behind the yellow and black man. Most of them stared at the refugees, occasionally glancing toward the mongrels’ bubble, as if the bubble’s proximity made them every bit as nervous as the human intruders did.
“You all ain’t the first trespassers hankering for our bailiwick, and you shan’t be the last,” the yellow and black man said, this time speaking loud enough for all to hear. “We will smite you and all who follow.” He turned to the mass of painted natives behind him. “Send these prattling miscreants to hell’s infernal bowels!”
The natives advanced, still glancing frequently at the mongrel’s bubble. Several rocks were thrown and Desmond heard another refugee get hit.
Infinity grabbed Desmond’s arm and pulled him back toward the others. “Get ready to fight for your lives!” she shouted. “Find any weapon you can, and—”
“Zeeee-zeeee-ooooo!”
The high-pitched cry almost hurt Desmond’s ears. Everyone fell silent.
“My goodness gracious,” a warbling voice shouted.
Desmond turned and spotted Abel, dropping from a tree near the mongrel bubble. The creature curled its tail into a tight spiral, raised its clawed venomcrook above its head, and walked on four of its six limbs until it stood before the yellow and black man.
“This fracas is no concern of yours, musk monkey,” the yellow and black man said, his voice returning to a whisper channeled by his cupped hand.
“Strangers come from afar to your bailiwick,” Abel said at full volume. “They come in the way mongrels come. And you want to smite them all. Without a parley? Without speaking to your dear friend, Abel?”
The man’s eyes widened slightly. “This ain’t your concern, Abel.”
Abel leaned toward the man, raising the venomcrook slightly. “Nehemiah, I hereby rescind your forthcoming rapture.”
The man—Nehemiah—shook his head, his eyes growing even wider. “No, please. My turn was in four days!”
Abel gazed at him for a few seconds. “It is rescinded. Will your scornfulness result in rescindment of yet another?”
Nehemiah’s face reddened, and Desmond saw tears forming in his eyes. Nehemiah looked down at the ground. He shook his head.
Abel turned in a circle, studying the painted natives and then the refugees. “Goodness gracious,” the creature said. “I was resting my weary bones. Such a troublesome night. And now this. I’m feeling rancorous.” He stepped closer and faced Desmond and Infinity. “The herd does not fancy your trespass. A conflict is brewing. Perhaps a battle. This is good, but not for you—only for the mongrels, as they delight in such spectacles.”
“We told you before—we don’t want to fight these people,” Infinity said.
The creature inflated its green cheeks and then let out a long breath, which sounded very much like a sigh. “No, I reckon you don’t. But you soon will.”
10
Abominations
September 2 - 7:27 AM
Powerless. That’s how Infinity felt. For whatever goddamn reason, weapons weren’t allowed, but rocks were fair game. The colony couldn’t migrate to another location until the remaining groups had bridged in, but staying meant they’d be attacked by 250 multi-colored maniacs who were apparently addicted to getting hit with a venomcrook. And if Gavin’s response had been any indication, this rapture drug took addiction to a whole new level.
With every passing hour, the fate of Colony ST5 was looking more dismal.
Since the painted natives had backed off an hour or so ago, Infinity had been helping Desmond train a group of refugees who had volunteered to take a crash course in hand-to-hand fighting, but she needed a break from the endless complaints about being expected to fight. They complained that this wasn’t what they’d signed up for. That they’d had a better chance of surviving back in their own universe. They asked why they hadn’t been allowed to bring bodyguards with them. And the best one, could they return to their own version of Earth after thirty-six hours if they held tightly to Desmond and Infinity at the moment of bridge-back?
Infinity’s sleep deprivation was starting to impair her ability to be patient, so she stepped away from the colonists to clear her mind. She gazed at the painted natives. After Abel’s intervention had de-escalated their confrontation, about half of them had grudgingly gone back to wherever they’d come from, including the green man she’d beaten senseless. He had been helped to his feet and led away by a yellow and red woman. Those who had stayed behind—over a hundred of them—were now gathered near the mongrels’ bubble, waiting patiently as if they expected something to happen.
“It is time for them to feed.”
Infinity suddenly realized Abel was at her side. The damn creature had a knack for appearing out of nowhere. She caught a whiff of its scent before asking, “The humans? What are they going to feed on?”
“Any vittles the mongrels are of a mind to dish out. This place is the indigenous herd’s bailiwick, at least until your herd lays hold of it.”
She turned to the creature. “We don’t intend to take their land from them.”
Abel gazed back at her, black eyes blinking out of sync. “Your herd will need to feed.”
“Can’t my people go somewhere else and establish a colony?”
“Elsewhere you will find more bailiwicks, each with its own herd equally keen on smiting trespassers.”
“What about cities? How far is the nearest city?”
Several more out-of-sync blinks, but no answer.
“Towns,” Infinity said. “Villages. Places where thousands of people live beside each other.”
Still more blinks. “Thousands? I know of no such bailiwick. Mongrels don’t fancy such unnatural herds.”
“But there were cities here 150 years ago! Big cities. Some with a million or more people.”
> Abel made a chortling sound. “Preposterous!” After a moment, the creature continued. “Still, had such abominations existed, the mongrels most assuredly would have brought them to naught. The mongrels would never allow it.”
Infinity stared at the creature. Then she turned to the shimmering bubble. Could the mongrels have destroyed all of Earth’s cities? Could they really be that powerful? If so, this colony was royally screwed. “Is there anywhere we can go that is not controlled by mongrels?”
Abel remained silent for a few seconds. “Your ignorance is remarkable. Truly you have come from afar. I reckon this is why the mongrels allow you to speak. The land between bailiwicks is free of mongrel rule. It is the wild land, rife with troublesome rascals and scalawags, scraping sustenance from the land. Ferals, they’re called. Too weak to seize a bailiwick, or too prideful to accept sustenance from mongrels.”
In spite of her exhaustion, Infinity perked up. “This wild land—how far away is it?”
“Near to a mile, give or take.” It held out its twitching venomcrook as a pointer, aiming it over her shoulder. “Thataway.” It then pointed the weapon to its left, right, and behind. “Thataway, thataway, and thataway.”
Infinity perked up even more. “Then our colony will move to the wild land.” She nodded to the painted herd gathered beside the bubble. “Could we avoid conflict with these people by doing that?”
Abel glanced toward the herd. “Perhaps. Question is, will you want to? Your herd must feed.”
“Maybe my people can learn to grow crops.” Even as she spoke these words, Infinity knew this wasn’t likely. Not with these refugees. Besides, it was already September.
The green and tan skin around Abel’s eyes and mouth had pulled tight, creating vertical ridges. This was no doubt a facial expression, but Infinity had no idea what it meant. “You should pay a visit to the wild land,” the creature said. “Yes, that’s what you should do. And I, Abel, will guide you there. Upon which you will root out the merits of your notion.”
Infinity gazed at the thing’s nonhuman face. “Are you serious? Now?”
Another chortle. “Those who wait to feed go hungry. Yes, I will guide you to the wild land. It would please me. But first, I must attend to a less pleasing task. I beg your pardon.” The creature then leaned forward until its lower pair of hands were on the ground.
As Abel walked toward the painted herd on two hands and two feet, Desmond and Arty approached Infinity.
“I’m not an expert on evolution,” Arty said, watching Abel, “but that thing’s body structure is unlike any other animal on Earth. Insects are the biggest animals with six arms. Or six legs, or whatever those are. It can’t be from a different version of Earth, can it?”
Infinity looked at Arty, surprised he was even taking the time to consider such things when his entire colony was in danger.
“Abel has to be from another version of Earth,” Desmond said. “And so do the mongrels, as different as they may seem. It all depends on how far back in time their divergence was. Assuming Abel is not an invention of the mongrels, he must have come from a version of Earth that diverged from ours before the first vertebrate animals with limbs appeared, which was over 350 million years ago. Because as soon as the basic structure of four legs evolved, that became the normal pattern for all limbed vertebrates that followed. Creatures with two legs and four arms never existed, as far as I know.” He then nodded toward the house-sized transparent bubble and sighed loudly. “As for the mongrels, though, I have no idea how far back the diversion point would’ve had to be. I don’t even know if they have cells, let alone arms and legs.”
“Why do they have to be from a version of Earth?” Arty asked. “Couldn’t they be aliens from another planet?”
Desmond furrowed his brows and glanced at Infinity.
“Don’t look at me,” she said. “I just need to know how to kill them if I have to.”
He returned his gaze to Arty. “I like science fiction movies as much as the next guy, but that kind of space travel isn’t really possible.”
Arty flashed a dubious frown. “You do know we just traveled between universes, right?”
Desmond shook his head. “It’s not the same thing as space travel. We didn’t travel thousands of light years to get here. In fact, we didn’t travel at all. We simply bridged to the exact same place, at the exact same time, but in an alternate universe.”
Arty didn’t appear convinced. “Well, they look like aliens to me. I mean, the little dude is green, with six arms and a wicked club made out of some kind of giant bug. In the encyclopedia, its picture should be next to the word alien.”
Desmond smiled. “Well, I agree with that. And I suppose if another civilization could develop bridging technology, it could also develop advanced space travel. But I have a hard time believing any civilization has figured out how to overcome a limitation as fundamental as the speed of light. I have to believe Abel and the mongrels bridged here from a different version of Earth, the same way we did.”
Infinity rolled her eyes, bored by this entire conversation. She turned to watch Abel. The creature was talking to the remaining members of the herd. Seven of the painted natives were lined up before him, one behind the other. Abruptly, Abel flicked his venomcrook, striking the first person in line, a red woman with blue shoulders, elbows, and knees. The woman cried out, collapsed to her knees, and then curled up into a fetal position on the ground.
Infinity instinctively took a step toward her, adrenaline surging. But then she stopped. The woman had begun moaning as if in the throes of ecstasy.
“What the hell?” Arty muttered. He and Desmond were now also watching the natives.
The next person in line, a red man with random black splotches, stepped around the woman and stood before Abel. Seconds later, he too had been struck and was lying on the ground, moaning. This continued until all seven of the painted rapture junkies were writhing with pleasure.
Infinity exchanged a concerned glance with Desmond.
Abel ambled over to the giant bubble’s membrane and touched it with his venomcrook. Immediately, some of the herd gathered around the spot, blocking Infinity’s view. The remaining natives, except for the seven who were still writhing on the ground, formed a semicircle around their companions as if guarding them. Most of the guards held rocks ready to hurl if necessary. Seconds later, people began emerging from the semicircle, carrying armloads of what appeared to be formless, brown mud. Those burdened with loads headed off into the forest, presumably toward their village, or settlement, or wherever they lived. By this time, the seven who’d been struck by Abel’s venomcrook were staggering to their feet with stupid grins on their faces.
Abel turned from the herd and ambled back to Infinity, Desmond, and Arty. “I reckon they’re pleased your herd didn’t seize their vittles. You were wise to wait.”
“Their vittles?” Desmond asked. “That was food? From the mongrels?”
“The mongrels ain’t cruel. They provide for the herd. And they provide for other critters of their bailiwick, but humans require more care. I declare, things would be a mite easier without the herd, but the mongrels fancy them being around.” The creature looked from Infinity to Desmond to Arty. “I reckon you folks and your herd are gonna throw the balance out of whack. If the mongrels allow you to live, that is.”
Once again, Infinity didn’t even know what to ask first, which was starting to piss her off.
“Why wouldn’t they let us live?” Desmond asked.
“Fickle, they are. One day they fancy having 400 in the herd. The next day they decide that’s too many, so they curtail the vittles. Now there’s only enough for 250. Makes for interesting conflicts in the herd. The mongrels do enjoy watching the consequences of their shenanigans.”
A chill ran up the back of Infinity’s neck. The whole scenario was turning out to be a goddamn nightmare. The colony had to get away from all this. She asked Abel, “Are you still taking me to the wild land?”
Confused cries suddenly rang out from the bridge-in site, drawing glances from everyone, including Abel and the painted natives.
“That’d be group nine,” Arty said. “If you folks would excuse me.” He turned and made his way toward the twenty new arrivals, most of whom had tumbled to the ground in a thrashing, retching heap. He joined several others in trying to calm the newcomers.
“My goodness gracious,” Abel said, staring at the new arrivals. “It’s no wonder your herd has the mongrels so vexed. What are they to do with you? I’ve a notion to go back to sleep, as I fear what I may otherwise witness.”
Annoyed, Infinity snapped her fingers in Abel’s face. She quickly regretted it and took a step back, eyeing the venomcrook. “The wild land,” she reminded the creature.
“Yes, yes,” it said, pulling its gaze away from the new arrivals. “A musk monkey’s job is never done. And I reckon a walk to the wild land is a dandy excuse to beat a hasty retreat. Pick your direction, and I’ll take you there.”
“What’s going on?” Desmond asked.
Infinity hesitated, taking a deep breath, uncertain she could justify leaving the bridge-in site. So she decided not even to try. “I’m going with Abel to the wild land. He says it’s only a mile away. So I hope to be back in an hour or two.”
Desmond stared at her, frowning. “You two are leaving?” He tilted his head toward the painted herd. “Abel is the only reason those people haven’t attacked us.”
“You can shuck your agitations,” Abel said. “I have reached an accord with the herd. For the moment, since you didn’t seize their vittles, they’ll give you a wide berth. But come feeding time tomorrow morning, if your herd is still here—well, the mongrels will indeed have some entertainment. I’m sad to say it’ll be my job to poke the hornet’s nest.” Abel then released a long breath, seemingly attempting to imitate a human sigh.
Infinity turned to Desmond. “I’m going with him to find out whether the refugees might be able to escape all this bullshit by moving to the wild land.”
Bridgers 3_The Voice of Reason Page 9
