Amoeba

by Piers Anthony

  They cleared the path for a moment. “Run!” Tod cried as he bashed the last crab into a tangle.

  They ran down the path. The crabs soon pursued, but they were now strung out behind, and in any event not as fast on their little feet as the people were.

  They reached the village. “Crabs in pursuit!” Tod called. “Stop them!”

  The villagers went at it with a will, stabbing at the little legs with knives. The crabs were tough, but not tough enough to withstand the attention of dozens of determined people. Soon they retreated, recalled by the pool.

  Tod brought his bundle to Wizard, who was reclining on Bem in lounge form while Vanja massaged his shoulders. “Got one wrapped in the poncho,” Tod said.

  “Put it in the cage.”

  Now Tod saw that they had assembled a stout wooden cage with a folding lid. He held the package over the top and let it unwrap, letting the crab drop. He slammed the lid down. “That won’t hold it long,” Veee warned.

  “Be ready to recapture it if it escapes,” Wizard said. He stared at the crab as it reanimated and tried to scramble out, balked by the bars.

  The crab stabbed at a bar with a spike. The wood cracked. It stabbed with another spike. Indeed, the cage was only a temporary restraint.

  Wizard merely sat there, focusing. There was a faint shimmer of magic. That was all.

  The third spike splintered the wood. The crab would soon escape. “Better find the range soon,” Tod said, readying his poncho.

  “I am not finding it,” Wizard said. “Rather, I am not able to affect it. It seems to be protected from change.”

  “Uh-oh,” Tod said. “Could be a mutation, or maybe each daughter pool develops its own frequency to distinguish it from the mother pool.”

  “Trouble,” Vanja said. “An orange swarm.”

  Indeed, an orange layer was flowing across the ground toward them: hundreds of mouse-sized crabs. Tod and the others, including a number of villagers, went out to intercept them with golf clubs, but the cunning creatures avoided the strikes and scuttled on past them.

  “The pool has caught on that we’re up to something,” Bem said. “It may not be smart, but it knows that it can’t afford to have one of its minions studied. It is going all-out to destroy Wizard.”

  “Go wrap Wizard,” Tod told it. “Protect him from the crabs to the extent you can.” Bem went to do it.

  “Bring boiling water,” Tod told the villagers. “And fire. We have to keep these things clear of Wizard.”

  The villagers cooperated, but it was evident that they would not be able to stop the crabs in time. The swarm was rapidly closing on Wizard, who still could not get at the signal.

  “There are too many of them,” Tod said. “A yard-across pool should not be able to marshal this many crabs.”

  “I’ll do an aerial survey,” Vanja said, and transformed. In moment she was a distant speck in the sky.

  The villagers scooped out a hasty trench and poured hot water into it. That balked the crabs for a while, but it was difficult to keep enough hot water in it. Wizard still had not found the wavelength. The situation continued desperate.

  Vanja returned. “The daughter pool has discovered the mother pool, and is mining it for protoplasm,” she reported. “Crabs are hauling out hunks of jelly. That’s a huge source.”

  “No wonder there are so many crabs,” Veee said. “They’ll soon be bigger.”

  “Disaster,” Tod agreed. “That will enable the daughter pool to become as potent as the mother pool, in hours. We have to stop it before that happens, or we never will.”

  They looked at Wizard. He was sweating, literally, but not from heat. He was trying but not succeeding.

  Tod knew he had to think of something. He remembered something else Bison had said. “If you can’t do it for real, try illusion!” Tod cried as he bashed at myriad mice-crabs. The ones he knocked across the field merely got back on their legs and resumed their charge forward. He felt the pain as they started spiking his ankles. “Like color! Change the crabs’ color, so maybe they look wrong even if they’re not. Like a false error message. Maybe the pool won’t have the wit to clear it.”

  “Ridiculous,” Vanja muttered, dancing in place to avoid the crabs going after her ankles. “Illusion can’t stop real magic.”

  “It can if it fouls up the observer,” Tod said. “That is, the pool.”

  “Pft. We’re doomed.”

  They continued fighting off crabs, taking more injuries. This couldn’t last much longer. Once the people fell, the crabs would be all over them, literally, going for more vulnerable targets like eyes and genitalia.

  Then, abruptly, the crab in the cage turned blue and stopped moving. Three spokes were imbedded in the splitting wood, with a fourth poised. But the fourth strike did not come. “Got it,” Wizard said with satisfaction.

  “But will it stop the other crabs?” Veee asked.

  “Oh, yes. It is doing so now. They can’t receive the signal. Tell the villagers the danger is over.”

  The swarm around them had turned blue and become inert.

  “You’re sure?” Tod asked, having trouble crediting so sudden a victory. He had suggested it from desperation rather than belief.

  “Yes. As soon as I extend it to the full region.” Wizard’s eyes glazed as he concentrated, extending his magic. They saw a wave of collapsing blue crabs radiating outward. Then Wizard also collapsed. He had exhausted his strength.

  “Tell them,” Vanja said, putting her arms around Wizard as Bem curled its edges to make a warm cocoon. She was quick to accept what worked, despite her prior doubt.

  “He’s depleted,” Veee said. “We must let him recover.”

  Tod and Veee addressed the villagers. “Wizard has changed the signal the pools use to contact the androids, or seemed to change it,” he announced. “The crabs will all be dead, and the pools will be helpless. Do what you want with the crabs, when you find them, but stay away from the pools, which will take some time to starve.”

  The villagers understood. They started ranging out into the forest, looking for dead crabs. The women were collecting them in baskets for disposal.

  “You did it,” Veee told Tod. “You organized the defense.”

  “Wizard did it.”

  “You know what I mean. You took charge and told him how.” She caught his hand and kissed it.

  But instead of being thrilled, Tod experienced a peculiar letdown, as if something had quietly flowed out of him, leaving him psychically depleted. He realized that it was the presence of the Amoeba in his being. It had let him go.

  “I feel so lonely,” Veee said. Indeed, she looked lost.

  “I am now free to return to my frame,” Bem reported unhappily, still wrapped around Wizard to warm him.

  “So are we all,” Vanja agreed. “The Amoeba has released us.”

  “I feel like crying,” Veee said.

  “Cry with me,” Vanja said.

  Veee hugged her and let her tears flow. Vanja cried too.

  “May I join you?” Tod asked.

  Both women opened their arms to him. Tod joined them in a three-person hug, shedding his own tears.

  “What are we going to do?” Veee asked plaintively.

  “We’re going to stay here,” Tod said as his plan jelled in his mind. “And sign up with the Amoeba for the next mission.”

  Both women drew back their faces and looked at him.

  “There are constant missions,” Tod said. “The Amoeba summons people to handle them, selected by their essential qualities as they relate to the specific mission. This requires a break-in period as the people meet each other, form a team, learn what it is they have to accomplish, and figure out how to do it. It’s not especially efficient, but it works. Think how much better it would be if there were a more professional team, one already integrated and experienced.” He took a breath. “We are going to volunteer to be that team.”

  “But Bem can’t stay,” Veee said.

/>   “There will be a replacement, one who has whatever qualities the four of us lack for the next mission, to make the new trail mix whole. It may take a while to reorient, but we’ll have a jump start on it.”

  “Will the Amoeba accept that?” Vanja asked.

  “It will have to accept, because we are greasing the skid for it. Much easier to accept our willing service, than to discard us and recruit new people. The Amoeba is essentially a passive entity, taking what is offered. It should accept our guidance in this respect. We can provide it with a brain. It should provide us with adventure. It’s best for all parties concerned.”

  Veee and Vanja smiled together. Then they kissed him, together. That was just the beginning.

  The next two days were quiet, as the villagers did find dead blue crabs scattered through the forest, and people of other villages made similar reports. There had been a number of daughter pools, spread throughout the region, but all were now nullified.

  Tod, Veee, and Vanja indulged in the luxury of unstressed love and sex. They had been under more tension than they had been conscious of during the mission. It had not depleted them physically, in the manner of Wizard, but they were happy to have the recovery time.

  Wizard recovered his strength. He agreed with Tod’s plan, having no desire to go home to face the enraged giantess queen. Only then did Bem bid the others farewell and depart. “I wish I could remain with you. But my destiny is in my own frame.”

  “We understand,” Tod said. “If that ever changes, you know we will welcome you back.”

  They watched Bem depart, knowing it would accomplish its own mission of saving its people from the storms. The girls shed more tears. Then Vanja transformed and perched on Bem. She would see it off, as she could conveniently navigate the steep route back.

  Soon she returned. “Bem’s gone,” she reported. “But Bem’s trail did not evaporate.”

  “Bem can come back!” Veee exclaimed. “If it wants to, some later time. We haven’t lost it.”

  “Just as I was able to return,” Wizard said. “Though that was some time later.”

  “We could be long gone,” Tod said. Still, it was reassuring.

  But would the Amoeba really embrace their offer? Tod thought it should, but uncertainty remained.

  Then he felt the presence. “The Amoeba is back!” he exclaimed. It was a wonderful reawakening.

  “We know,” Vanja said, her eyes sparkling.

  “But who will be our fifth member?” Veee asked.

  “And what will be our mission?” Wizard added. “We can be sure it will be no cakewalk.”

  There was a stir in the village. Something was coming.

  “Oh, my,” Vanja breathed. “It looks like—”

  “A unicorn,” Wizard said.

  “A male,” Veee said.

  “Maybe it’s a stray,” Tod said.

  The unicorn walked though the village and approached them. He was a large, sleek, muscular, handsome stallion. The girls gazed at him adoringly. Something about girls and equines.

  Then the equine figure vanished. In his place stood a large, sleek, muscular, handsome naked man. “I see that you are the members of the team I am supposed to join,” he said. “I am sure we will get along capitally. I am Wetzel.” He glanced at Veee and Vanja. “Thank you for your honest appreciation of my physical equine and manly qualities, ladies.”

  “We didn’t speak,” Vanja protested faintly.

  “Ah, but you did, Vanja. You see, I am telepathic. More precisely, I am a telepathic were-unicorn. We’re a rare breed. I presume it was for my ability to read minds that I was summoned here, though I do have other qualities.” He looked meaningfully at both women, who both blushed.

  Tod was dismayed. He had liked the idea of sharing two women. Now it was clear that would change. What had they gotten into?

  Wetzel looked at him. “Perhaps I can answer that too, Tod. There is a concept in my mind that I presume stems from the Amoeba and relates to our mission.”

  “A concept?” Tod asked numbly. “What is it?”

  “Beetle Juice. I am as perplexed by it as you are, but there it is.”

  “We will surely be finding out soon,” Wizard said.

  Author’s Note

  Sometimes stories or novels come into being because they formulate in the author’s mind, come together, and will not be denied. Sometimes they are forced out because the author needs money to survive. Trail Mix is neither. In January 2011 my wife and I were discussing prospects, as I had some slack time after wrapping up other projects, and she said I should write a novel or series for original publication on Kindle, to try out that venue directly. She reads many books now on Kindle, enjoying their special convenience while deploring their weird formatting typos. My older novels are getting republished there, and some newer ones, but I had never written directly for it with no try at other publication first.

  I pondered, and was intrigued by the notion of a path into adventure. I like paths; they show the way through the wilderness that is life, and lead to each person’s destiny. Suppose this ordinary man discovers an extraordinary path? One that leads into wildly different things? I have had paths in my fiction before, but generally as a means rather than an end; once you get where you are going the path is finished. My wife said a path is really too simple; what was needed was a trail. A path may lead from your yard to your neighbor’s yard, while a trail can cross a continent. Okay, a trail, one on which different people or creatures from drastically different realms can meet, interact, travel, and live. Then it came to me: trail mix. There was my series title.

  But who or what made this remarkable trail? And for what purpose? How could it reach across space, time, and alternate realities? Trails generally don’t make themselves; they are made. There had to be a reason, a larger purpose. I did not have to explore it far before I came upon the Amoeba, an entity as large as imagination, yet not an active player the way conscious living creatures are. All it knows is that there is a need, and it acts to fill that need, somewhat the way water needs to seek the lowest level. When the need changes, so does the mix, to enable the new job to be done.

  And so it may have been with me. There was a need to explore a new venue, and the Amoeba obligingly filled that need. Where the trail will lead, ultimately, who knows? I can see ahead just far enough to know that the next setting is Beetle Juice, otherwise known as the vicinity of the giant red star Betelgeuse, where there are beetles galore. You have not seen beetles like these; Earth is a beetle backwater. But why would a telepathic were-unicorn be needed to deal with mere beetles? Could that be overkill, or is there some less obvious trait he has that fills the need? Stay tuned.

  Writers are urged to write what they know. This becomes difficult in fantasy, which is the literature of the impossible. But for verisimilitude—that means the semblance of truth—some homey details help. One example is the ocarina, which is a real musical instrument as described in the novel, modeled on the one my daughter gave me. I can’t play it nearly as well as Tod does, but it has a lovely flute-like, or more properly recorder-like sound regardless. Another is Tod’s knife, which I bought years ago, just in case, a deadly double-sided blade labeled Fury, illegal in some regions. I’m not a knife fighter, I merely want a way to defend myself if I ever have to. In close quarters a knife is said to be as lethal as a gun. I hope I never have to put that to the test. My experience with guns is limited to my training in the US Army more than fifty years ago; I was a good shot then, and retain respect for what a gun can do. Another is the forest. I lived for years in a house in the forest as a child, and as an adult I now live on a small tree farm I own. So I am familiar with forestland, and with blueberry glades, and love them. Though not with the alien trees and berries along the Amoeba trail.

  I also made the characters ordinary in their assorted fashions, even Bem, whom you would surely like in person, and Vanja, who may be a true vampire but would heat the bed of any normal male. That’s so readers can
identify with them, and see things from their viewpoints. But no, I can’t say I know anyone quite like her; she’s not drawn from life. Otherwise my wife would never understand.

  One note of appreciation: for Rudy Reyes, who proofread the manuscript, catching a number of errors I had missed.

  Readers interested in learning more of me and my works can visit my www.hipiers.com web site, where I have a monthly column, information about my works, and an ongoing survey of electronic publishers, or my new blog site, piersanthonyblog.blogspot.com.

  All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2011 by Piers Anthony

  ISBN: 978-1-4976-5720-5

  This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

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