“Not … interested,” Spider said, before he even knew he was going to say it. He knew it was crazy. He knew staying here was suicidal. But maybe suicide was the correct choice here. The thought of Dickhead’s epic corruption leaching into him, no matter what steps he might take to fight it off, to watch for it, to try to work within Dickhead’s mad system, it made him ill.
“Spider,” Iris said, touching his shoulder.
Spider shook her off and shot her a look of darkest anger. “No. Just no,” he said, starting to huddle down towards the ground, where the air was still somewhat clear, even if so cold he could feel his lungs burning in pain with every breath.
Spider knew attacking Dickhead was pointless. The man was a whack-a-mole game gone mad. Every time you kill him, he pops up again, and again, each time more terrifying than the last. Spider could hardly breathe. “No, not again. Not. Again. I won’t.”
“Spider, come on now. Let’s not do this. Come on.”
“No,” Spider said, glaring at Iris, daring her to look upon Dickhead sympathetically. Iris, standing there, wrapped in her blankets, implored Spider with her eyes. And that did it, in the end. Against all his better judgment, indeed, against all his bitterly won experience of Dickhead, the mass-murderer, the cult leader, the madman, the cracked genius, Spider looked at Iris, who was barely hanging on, and hanging on just for him. He knew it, understood it, and felt ashamed of himself. There was more at stake here than his own precious conscience. He met Iris’s gaze, struggled to his feet, and managed to produce, for Iris, a small smile, perhaps the hardest thing he’d ever done. He said, looking at her, but talking to Dickhead, “Excuse my poor manners. My old mum would be appalled.”
Dickhead winked at Iris, put on a smile that seemed to swallow the whole room, and swept Spider into a tight, suffocating bear-hug. Spider didn’t care. Dickhead was warm. That warmth felt good, and he hated himself for finding something about Dickhead that he liked. Spider said, “Let’s talk, eh?” and knew, right there, that he was doomed.
Dickhead beamed at him, and at Iris. He said, “Step right this way, people.” He helped Iris and Spider negotiate the ladder, an ordeal for them both with their near-frozen hands and feet.
As he followed Spider up the ladder, Dickhead called up to him, “Oh, and by the way, Spider, I’ve got this little job for you, thought you might be able to help me out.”
Spider hesitated, still on the ladder, climbing towards the warm light, bright without being dazzling or harsh. He was leaving behind all hope of ever returning to his own timeline. It was a turning point for him, the end of one life, and perhaps the start of another, whether he liked it or not. Everything he’d ever loved or cared about was gone. No, wait, he thought, and looked up, and there was Iris above him, hanging on to the ladder with her stump so she could reach her hand down to help him up. She was smiling down at him, aglow in the light, despite the pain. “Come on, Spider, you can do it.” He felt warm at last in the light of her smile.
Not everything he loved was gone. He managed a smile back at her, and kept climbing, one rung at a time.
It was hard, but wasn’t everything in this life? Dickhead, he knew, was right behind him. “A little job, you say?” Spider said, forcing himself to keep his voice light, telling himself he was doing this for Iris. “What sort of little job?”
Details
Paradox Resolution
Copyright © 2012 by K. A. Bedford
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published by
Edge Science Fiction and Fantasy Publishing
An Imprint of
HADES PUBLICATIONS, INC.
P.O. Box 1714, Calgary, Alberta, T2P 2L7, Canada
Editing by Brian Hades
Cover Illustration by Martin Pasco
e Book ISBN: 978-1-894063-89-0
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