Whatever Gods May Be

by George P. Saunders

  Then the Birdog started to pull.

  "Hey," Zolan said indignantly, while rolling over on his side as the Birdog dragged him off balance. "Stop that!"

  The Birdog barked quietly, but did not release Zolan. Finally, she had brought him to within only a few feet of her sleeping pups. Zolan had to admit that it was considerably warmer back here, but he was still ruffled at having been harassed in such an undignified manner. He leaned back on his elbows and stared at the mother with clear disgruntlement.

  "Just shove me around like some kind of baggage, eh?" he said through grinding teeth. The Birdog barked her agreement.

  Zolan was just about to forgive and forget the entire incident, when a further outrage was perpetrated. Suddenly he found himself underneath a giant wing. The mother Birdog gave the man a good tug towards herself, and the next moment he was cuddled up against several tons of Birdog alongside three or four snoring puppiebirds.

  Well, this was positively unforgivable, however, Zolan was once again in a position to forgive -- as he readily did, since all of a sudden the cave temperature had risen to pleasantly comfortable levels. His teeth no longer clicked together, and even as he was half considering to remove himself from the indecently close proximity to the mother Birdog, the delicious sleepiness that had suddenly come over him temporarily displaced his indignance.

  The mother Birdog panted contentedly, drawing Zolan and the pups closer to her as a cold breeze sliced through the cave air. Within minutes she could hear that the man was fast asleep. She did not retire immediately, though. For almost an hour, the mother Birdog stared out into the foreboding blackness. Far away, near the city, she could hear the high howls from the Redeyes pierce the night. It was a starved sound that made the mother growl softly and unconsciously to herself.

  Something was in the air.

  Something horrible that told her dreadful happenings were not far off in the future.

  Her nose wriggled with distaste. She could smell the danger, the blood...and death already.

  And it made her afraid.

  * * *

  When Phillips awoke several hours later, he felt more refreshed than he had in days. His first thoughts immediately were those of Valry, with the outstanding question of whether she had returned yet.

  He crawled out of his tent into pitch blackness. Only the intermittent glows from individual campfires lighted up an otherwise invisible world. And then he remembered.

  Staring up at the sky, he could see that the Dark had blanketed over all the clouds, blocking out the marginal amount of daylight that was ever allowed to seep earthward. There was no more haunting wind - or the terrible voice - that he had earlier heard; only an equally dreadful stillness to the air that made Phillips wonder what the insides of coffins were like.

  The tribe was huddled in groups around the valley, as inactive as the world it lived in. The only movement Phillips could barely see was near the place that delineated the starting and ending points of the desert, at the valley entrance. It was here that nine Stingers were grouped together, hissing to one another, and facing the open desert beyond.

  He noticed that Thalick had still not returned, which meant that Valry was almost certainly nowhere to be found. Despair and sorrow began to rise in his throat, but he fought back these numbing emotions by walking briskly towards the disgruntled aliens.

  All nine Stingers turned slowly to face the human leader approaching them. Phillips could not walk quickly, so his trek of one hundred yards to the spot where the Stingers stood took ten minutes to traverse. He thought back to the first days he had ever encountered a Thelerick giant, and of how long it had taken him to get used to their amazing appearance. Years had passed before he could even relax in their company enough not to stare slightly wild-eyed at them, and years more until he could confidently approach any one of the aliens for communication. These brief moments of intercourse were few, as the Stingers had made clear their aversion to discussions with humans, other than Valry. Often, when Phillips had attempted to communicate, he was flatly ignored, though interestingly enough, rarely was a request or command given by him regarding the tribe ever disregarded.

  For reasons that only the Thelericks understood, they seemed to be content with obeying Phillips unquestioningly while exercising the prerogative to be as unsociable as possible with him.

  As Phillips stopped before the Stinger Green Belly, he hoped that this would be one occasion when the aliens would not be so close-mouthed with him.

  It was almost impossible to see them at all through the eerie blackness, so Phillips walked up to the nearest claw to speak. "Where are Thalick and Valry?"

  No answer.

  "Are they safe?"

  Again, no answer. The Stingers watched and listened, and occasionally hissed among themselves, but did not honor Phillips with a response.

  Phillips sighed heavily. Then, just as quietly as his company had been, he walked between the Stingers to the edge of the valley, out into the sands of the desert.

  "What's out there, Green Belly?" Phillips asked. One hiss, and then nothing.

  "One Claw?" Phillips appealed once again. A solitary pincher clapped together, and then was silent. Phillips turned around to face the shadowy figures of the Thelerick aliens.

  "C'mon, guys -- what do you know? If Thalick were here, I know that he would talk." Phillips bluffed, knowing that probably the lead Stinger would most likely only address his questions through Valry.

  Finally, Phillips exercised his final option. Without saying another word, he walked back to Green Belly and proceeded to mount the Stinger. Green Belly remained motionless, while the man positioned himself just behind the massive head. Grabbing a wiry antennae, Phillips looked down at the Stinger and spoke clearly, without a tone of doubt or query in his voice.

  "Let's go, Green Belly. Out there," he said, pointing into the blackness ahead.

  A concerted chorus of hisses began to ensue. Phillips waited quietly, as the Thelericks discussed the command among themselves.

  At last, Green Belly stepped forward, away from the eight other Stingers.

  "Now, we'll find out what's bothering you folks. One Claw, Broken Tail; take some men. Find Thalick," Phillips ordered briskly, pausing before adding softly, "Find Valry."

  Phillips couldn't see if this last order was being executed, for Green Belly had started moving, and before long there was only blackness surrounding him again.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Night came quickly.

  Phillips eyed the emptiness around him and shuddered; one week earlier, he and his people had passed through this way, in some places having to bury five or ten a day who had perished from dehydration, exhaustion or complications from the pervasive Dark plague which every human being on the planet could not escape. Phillips' thoughts abruptly turned to Valry. She had not returned with Thalick for six hours now. His only comfort lay in knowing that Thalick had also not returned, and was presumably still with Valry. He had been able to glean nothing from the Thelericks in the tribe as to where either Thalick or Valry may be, but since all had seemed relatively calm, he could only assume that both Stinger and girl were delayed by something that he could not presently guess at.

  Phillips was spared thinking further about his daughter, as his eyes caught some movement a hundred yards ahead amidst a series of tall dune rocks. Within seconds, another blur turned his head to the right, as Green Belly alternately hissed in surprise and anger.

  At first, Phillips thought the Stinger had inadvertently stung him in the back; the pain was instantaneous and specific, as so many of the Thelerick treatments were. Unlike those benevolent yet uncomfortable administrations, however, the stabbing agony that clutched Phillips now did not diminish within seconds. Screaming, he struggled against the weight on top of him. Another bludgeoning force descended upon him and this time he went flying through the air, landing on the soft sand with a painful crash. He was vaguely aware of Green Belly's frantic hisses around him as he tried
to shake off the two vampires that had latched on to his body and were now attempting to rip away his throat.

  A lancing firebrand cut into his right arm, and as he struggled to see this new source of agony, he could already feel that he no longer possessed anything below his elbow. A quick glimpse of a shredded stump told him that one of the Jumpers had succeeded in getting at him before the Stinger fighting off the attack could dispense with the horrid beast. Suddenly, the weight on of his back disappeared amidst howls and screams, as Green Belly ripped into the vampires with a vengeance. Phillips next found himself hoisted up by one pincher, and held above the battling Stinger's head as the latter continued to slash at oncoming Jumpers and Redeyes.

  Phillips head swam with blood and dizziness. He could no longer focus on what was happening around him. The same question pounded through his stunned brain over and over.

  Where did they come from?

  The answer was far from mysterious, and it was with a feeling of complete resignation that Phillips' accepted the truth. The vampires had crossed the desert, despite all odds. The tribe's journey had been useless.

  Still clutching Phillips, Green Belly turned on himself and raced away from the swarm of ambushing Redeyes and Jumpers. A few minutes later, and the inhuman gibbers from the monsters disappeared on the desert wind.

  Phillips did not try to look back to see if they were being followed. He was losing enormous amounts of blood, and was barely able to keep his eyes open. There was no pain now, so much as a persisting numbing sensation running through his body. Green Belly raced silently back to the tribe valley, not bothering to replace the man on his head, but keeping him securely clutched in his right pincher.

  Both Thelerick and Phillips remained silent. The night had just begun, but they knew that it was going to be one of the longest ones they had ever encountered - and perhaps the last one John Phillips would ever see.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  She knew she was dying, yet at the same time, she was also aware of how insignificant death was for her. The trade in the end for what she now possessed was more than fair. Power swelled through her like a raging firestorm -- and the vision; ah, the vision of what she truly was and what her purpose demanded, filled her with a joy more ecstatic than any human being could ever know.

  She had been set free. The confines of earthly flesh had been breached...at least for a little while. There were moments still, Valry realized, that she would have to endure further agony within the shell of her dying body. She was not yet strong enough to break away completely, nor was it part of her destiny to do so this soon. The demon that had destroyed her fragile mortal body would have further opportunity to taunt her, and this thought filled Valry with fear. But it was a fear that was momentary; for somehow, though she knew that all had not been revealed to her, Valry understood that her own agony and suffering were necessary.

  It was - as another part of Valry Phillips recognized long ago in another place and time - the only way to insure salvation for an entire world.

  Free for the time being of pain and fear, Valry gave some thought to Zolan Rzzdik. What a strange, unwitting pawn to fate had been chosen, she marveled to herself. She could not tell exactly what role he was to play in the near future, but it was significant, and it was one she wondered, if the man would be able to fulfill.

  In the few moments of contact, she had scanned his entire life, from birth to present. He seemed more devil than disciple; weak, indolent, bitter, Zolan Rzzdik did not appear to be a suitable choice to assist her. Yet, there was the strange contrast of brute courage, which she had witnessed earlier on the beach with the attacking Jumpers, and the carefully concealed streak of kindliness she had experienced first-hand during their initial meeting, that made this salty spacefarer an enigma which could not yet be too hastily judged. Time would tell if Zolan Rzzdik could live up to the expectations of his fate; like so many things still hidden from her, Valry Phillips was still not privy to Zolan's destiny in full -- or her own, for that matter.

  Valry recalled her initial terror in the first meeting. It had puzzled her, at first, so much so that like a desperate child screaming for its mother, she had begged the man to help her from some unseen terror.

  She now realized that she was beyond mortal assistance, and to have been terrified earlier was completely unnecessary. For now, even in the shadow of earthly demise, a spark within Valry had been struck that was about to spread itself across the world for all to see. There were great works to be performed, and unlike before when she had only been able to sample her remarkable powers through human frailty, Valry would soon realize unlimited potential.

  She would have to work quickly, even though she was still partially bound to her decaying body. Situations were in the process of bubbling to a close; the final confrontation was near, and all the forces on the side of Valry Phillips needed to be protected and rallied together.

  The Resistor's power had been boosted - amazingly, by the spectacular arrival of one of the greatest allies, Zolan Rzzdik. The black fungus of evil enshrouding the world had started to spread, blotting out all light everywhere. An egotistical thing, the Resistor interpreted its growth to be a favorable omen for his own aggrandizement. Now, he had resurrected his armies on the western desert - only a few miles from the helpless Stinger tribe - and was planning his greatest battle yet.

  With enormous sadness, Valry had watched her father gored and mortally wounded by the advance force of Redeyes approaching the tribe valley. Again, the divine spark that was making her stronger and wiser with each second, informed her that this event had been planned and calculated millions of years ago, in the nebulous fog of creation. But the still extant part of Valry Phillips, the human child/woman, could not help but grieve and fear for the life of her only mortal parent.

  And still other problems caused her worry. The new arrival, Zolan Rzzdik, had come very close to becoming only an interesting memory in terms of human existence. The giant rats from the ocean city of the Redeyes had caught the man off guard. Though Valry had acquired tremendous leverage of late, she alone would have been unable to rescue him. Breezing across both beach and hill, she had searched for a weapon or ally that could save the trapped man from the tools of blind evil. At last, she collided with the amiable Birdog. And though communicating with the animal had been an awkward effort at first, the Birdog had performed admirably. Within seconds, it had slaughtered Zolan's drooling opposition, and then had the further good sense to take initiative and rescue the man from the great wave generated by the Resistor.

  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 th
e 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.