Threshold Volume 2

by Shelby Morgen

  “We must drive the lost one away. We must cast her out so that she may find peace in the afterlife.” Then to Gethla, “Be not afraid, young one! The richness of a new existence awaits you!” With that, he cast the first stone, literally.

  “Ouch!” Gethla screamed as the round rock hit her on the arm.

  “Where did he get that?” Gray asked, looking confused as the man seemed to produce the rock out of nowhere. Then a questioning look crossed his face. “And does he have any more?”

  Before he could blink, the people Gethla had fought so hard to save were pelting them with stones. “Ouch! Ow! Stop it!” Gethla cried, swatting the stones away. “Ouch!” She yelped as the rocks continued to fall, despite her actions. There were more than she could swat or dodge.

  “Why are you doing this?” she screamed, a sudden sense of betrayal galling her heart. Were these the people she fought so hard to save, the ones she was going to give up the rest of her life for? These closed-minded individuals led by a man who refused to be wrong?

  “Tinti!” she screamed, appealing to a young woman whom she had often played with when she was young. “Tinti! It’s me! Don’t you know me? I am alive!”

  “Be gone, spirit!” the young orange haired woman gasped, tears falling down her face. “It’s okay to let go, Gethla! Be not afraid!” Then she threw a stone that struck Gethla in the forehead, raising a fierce knot in addition to the many lumps she had already received.

  “That tears it!” Gray growled as he stepped forward, ignoring his guards who stepped back at he first sign of his aggressiveness, fear evident in their faces. They actually believed that he was some kind of protector of the dead or something. These people were idiots!

  He strode into the midst of the rock pelting, the expression on his face daring anyone to throw another stone. The pelting abruptly ended, and Gethla looked up, confused, one hand on her forehead, her eyes filling with tears as she watch those she loved betray her in the worst way.

  “What is wrong with you people? Gethla has risked everything to come back here and save you, and this is how you thank her?”

  “Be not angry,” the old man cried out, falling to his knees as Gray’s eyes met his. “But the spirit must leave so that she may find peace. If she remains, she will bring bad luck.”

  “Bad luck? You people eat friggin’ roaches with spider legs for goodness sake! You live in a desert and you sell the fertility of your women to the highest bidder. Bug rustlers plague you and you never step up to defend yourselves, yet you send a single woman out with the fate of your village on her shoulders. How much worse can your luck get?”

  Mumblings met his words. “And what do you know of it, spirit? Is your world so much better?” the leader snarled, rising to his feet, his eyes narrowed in anger.

  “My world is not, you old sick fuck. But in my world, there is a thing called gratitude. People have choices, and not everyone decides to follow the ramblings of a self-appointed apostle with delusions of godhood. Who are you to speak of the next world when you’ve never even seen it? What do you know outside of this barren-assed valley?”

  “I would like to see this place, guide, this next life,” the man fairly roared, anger filling his tone.

  “Then go and drown yourself,” Gray snarled back as he reached out a hand for Gethla and pulled her to his side. “Do yourself and these people a favor. Drown yourself, shoot yourself, hang yourself for all I care! Get trampled in a Chroan stampede. Go and meet this next life you’re so fond of talking about and sending people forcibly to with the aid of rocks and stones. Then try and return to tell us what you’ve learned, old man, I dare you.”

  Utter silence fell as the two stared at each other. The Mystical Leader knew that this stranger was dangerous. He was making the people question things, and having his people question him destroyed the proper order of things. The Mystical Leader’s sly eyes took in the curiosity on the people’s faces, the close observation to the challenge of his position, the questioning of the next world. He had to do something.

  “Evil spirit!” he hissed and the people took a collective step back.

  “As evil as the one stoning the person who saved your sorry asses? As evil as the one clouding his people’s minds with theory and unproven half-truths?”

  Stalemate.

  “Leave this place!” he bellowed, turning and walking away. He had to save some face! He had spent too many years as the Mystical Leader to have his reign questioned. “Leave or my people will make you!”

  “Like I wanna stay with a bunch of doddering old fools. Try to make us stay. That would be the challenge!” Gray turned to a stunned looking Gethla and gently tugged her arm, leading her away from the village that was all she’d known. The people remained silent as Gray led Gethla back toward the gates, toward her Zy, and away from the baleful, resentful, and fearful stares of her people.

  Gethla paused, tried to jerk away, but Gray pulled her tightly against his body. “Never look back,” he whispered. “What matters is gone. You did your duty, and now it’s time to move on.”

  “Where?” Gethla gasped as the first tears fell from her eyes. But Gray urged her forward, away from the most recent cause of pain in her life. Gethla was now truly alone, more alone than she was when her father and his partner died. She had no home, no safety of a village of people, no one to share troubles with, to share the hard work, to share survival.

  She felt her whole body tremble as she realized her loss. Something within her bright yellow eyes dulled. She had no one, nowhere to go.

  Unless…

  “Take me with you?”

  “What?” Gray paused as they neared Zy and turned her to stare into her face.

  “Take me with you. Please, Gray. I have nowhere else to go. Please, take me with you.”

  And for the second time since he’d landed into this postwar horror of a time, Gray let a true smile cross his lips.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “And you will love hot tubs,” Gray said as he ticked off another point on his fingers. “A nice hot bubbling soak will make you feel all warm and toasty. Then there are movies. You’ve got to see Joe’s Apartment.”

  “Joe’s apartment?”

  Gray stared at her for a moment, his eyes shining with suppressed amusement. “You’ll relate,” he decided, thinking of the movie with the talking bugs. Mary-Baby had insisted that he watch it, and he had and surprisingly enjoyed it, though the main characters were a bit creepy crawly.

  They were riding Zy, heading back toward the river and, hopefully, a way home for both of them. Gethla was still pretty torn up about her people and their reactions toward her, but she was trying to remain strong, just as her father and his partner would have wanted. But it felt as if a gaping hole was at the center of her universe. Could Gray fill that hole, she wondered?

  “What will I do in your world? Can I herd Chroan?”

  “Um, no Chroan.” He heard the dismay in the groan she let loose. “But I bet you would be good as a bouncer. Or a model. But I’d place my bet on bouncer.”

  He recalled the feel of her muscled flesh bunching beneath his active hands and let out a dreamy sigh. Gethla was the perfect combination of erotic feminine charms and masculine aggressiveness. Her body, a product of a lifetime of hard work, was strong and supple, flexible as hell, yet retained that softness that contrasted so beautifully with her strength. It was all that he ever was attracted too, all that he ever lusted after, and it was wrapped up together in one enticing pink-haired, raspy voiced, yellow-eyed package.

  “What does a bouncer do, Gray?” Gethla asked, curiosity in her eyes as she looked back at the man.

  “He bounces…people.”

  “Bounces?”

  Was that a bit of eagerness in her voice? “Beats up people who behave badly. Well, more like kicks them out of clubs.”

  “How can a person fit in a club? They are handy weapons, Gray, but they are hardly large enough to fit people inside them.”

&nbs
p; “Um, a club is a place where people get together to dance, and drink, and meet others, and just have fun.”

  “Oh! So when they misbehave, I get to beat them up and kick them out?”

  “Yeah, but usually it will be the women. It doesn’t look good for the male bouncers to toss ladies out on their collective tuchises. So you bounce the girls, the male bouncers will bounce the boys, and maybe you get to bounce the boys too. They like it when the women beat up on the men. Gives them a hard reputation.”

  “Oh! I get to beat on men? Really?”

  “You don’t have to sound so excited about it,” Gray groaned, then a smile came to his lips as he pictured himself at the mercy of the marauding Gethla. She could tie him face down on the bed any time! And he did have that nice black leather paddle. He would have to teach her about warming up to the task, so to speak, slowly, letting endorphins rise high, before she began the really good punishing…

  “Get them!”

  “What the hell?” Gethla and Gray turned to stare at each other as the words exploded from both their mouths at the same time. But before they could dwell on this phenomena, there was a chittering sound, and then they were surrounded. Orange Hair, Yellow Hair, Peach Hair, and the addition of a meaner Yellow Hair and a larger Orange Hair, all sat on the backs of deep blue Chroan and glared at them.

  “We’re surrounded,” Gray deadpaned, his eyes wide with this unexpected development.

  “Where are our Chroan?” meaner Yellow Hair growled, his face twisted in a fierce scowl.

  “They were not yours,” Gethla snorted as her hand reached back for her energy bow. “And they have been returned to their rightful owners.”

  “You cost us a whole lot of trouble, girl!” the original Yellow Hair growled, one eye blackened by Gray’s fist and his mouth set in a deep grimace.

  “She’s a jewel,” larger Orange Hair pointed out, and they all fell silent. “And he’s not from around here.”

  “So don’t try me,” Gray growled, his eyes narrowing as he looked for weakness in their positions, their persons, their attitudes. He didn’t like the way that the larger orange haired man was staring at Gethla. It reminded him of the meat markets where the pimps picked up fresh chicken. It made him seethe inside. He kept his eyes on the ones he perceived to be the bigger threat, and that was his mistake. The rock that struck him came from behind. He fell like the proverbial sack of potatoes.

  “You like playing with rocks,” the angry Yellow Hair growled as he cocked his arm back to toss another if need be. “Play with these!”

  The sudden weight of his unconscious body dropping on her knocked Gethla’s hand away from her bow. But as she twisted to see what had happened, the meaner Orange Hair reached forward and before she could draw in a breath to scream, the world twisted on its axis and she found herself face down across his Chroan.

  “Let me go!” she screamed as she began to kick and fight. She screamed again as she saw the crumpled form of Gray falling from Zy and dropping to the hard-packed ground.

  “Gray!” But even as she screamed, the rustlers were whipping Zy into a frenzy, sending the now skittish Chroan racing to safety, and the rustlers were riding away with the struggling Gethla with them. “Gray!” she screamed again, her lone voice echoing over the barren land, the anguish and despair in her voice ringing eerily through the air.

  Chapter Sixteen

  He was floating. Time held no meaning, there was no up or down. He was floating and for once in a long time, he was content. His mind was at rest, at peace. All of the troubles that had plagued him for years seemed nonexistent, or rather like the lost threads of a remembered childhood nightmare.

  He could have floated there forever, lost in the nothingness that gave his soul respite, but there was some little thing tugging at him. It started out small, like the buzzing of a minor insect, but as he concentrated, the buzz gradual grew into a roar. Gray? Are you all right? Gray? Where are you? Gray!

  That voice sounded familiar. He was growing curious, but he valued his hard won peace. But that voice pulled at him. Gray, damn it, listen to me. Pay attention! I don’t have much time!

  Pay attention? No one spoke to him like that, not anymore. Not since he gave up his past life, not since he became his own man!

  “Listen to you? Listen to you? Who the fuck are you?” His temper flared as his anger drove the harsh words from his mouth.

  “Gray, I love you. Remember that, no matter what happens. You’re—you’re like a brother to me. You’re my best friend.”

  Best friend? Then it clicked. There was only one person he would even consider a friend, let alone a best friend. The voice had to be Marylin!

  “I love you. Whatever happens, don’t forget that. I’m not dead, Gray. Not the way they’ll tell you I am. Remember what you told me?”

  “Mary?” he sent out, confused. What had he told her? He recalled that he loved Mary, and that Mary loved him. But there was someone who loved him more. What happened to her? Where was she? Who was she?

  Follow your dreams. Are you following your dreams, Mary? Mary loved him. He would never forget that. But…but…Gethla loved him too. Gethla! She was Gethla, his yellow-eyed lioness lover. Gethla loved him. At least he thought she did.

  “Tell me you found what you wanted, Gray. Tell me you’re happy. I need to know you found someone who’s right for you.”

  “Mary-Baby, I think I found someone I could love. She’s great! She’s wonderful! Her hair is pink!” But as he thought of Gethla, he recalled quite suddenly what had happened.

  “Pink? Well, that should suit you!” Marylin laughed, then her voice grew serious again. “I found everything I ever wanted, Gray. I found my Warrior. I’m going to have a baby, Gray. The only thing I’ll miss from our world is you. But sometimes perhaps we’ll meet. Here in the dreaming.”

  A baby? He grinned at her words, but remembering Gethla made him frown. Something was wrong. She was in danger! He recalled a sharp pain to the back of his head, and then she was screaming his name, and he was falling, falling, falling. What had happened to her?

  Then it came to him like a bolt of lightning in the nighttime sky. The rustlers! They had Gethla. They’d left him to die and run off with his woman. She was in terrible danger! He had to get to her! He had to…but damn it, how?

  “I’m just learning how to reach out in the dreaming. Just starting to believe. It can be as real as we want it to be. I have to go, but I’ll find you here again.”

  “Mary! Don’t go! Mary, she is in danger! What do I do?”

  “Go to her, Gray. I know you thought you could never be my Warrior, but you were wrong. You are a fighter. Don’t be afraid. You won’t let her down. Finish what you started. Don’t be afraid to love her, Gray.”

  “Finish what I started,” he muttered as the voice began to fade. “I’ll finish it, Mary! I’ll make it right. Thank you.”

  He felt his world shift as his priorities became crystal clear. He had to save Gethla, to finish what he started.

  Sending all the love he could muster toward the disappearing thread of Mary’s consciousness, for lack of a better description, he let her feel his absolute glee for her happiness. And he sent her his determination to fight for the happiness so long denied him.

  He would find Gethla. He would save them both. He would have his lioness and, damn it, he would grab hold of his happiness. He would finish what he’d started, and there would be hell to pay to anyone who stood in his way.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Grit tasted terrible.

  And he knew that he was alive because he hurt too badly to be dead. Gray groaned as he struggled to blink his eyes, and discovered up close and personal that the sand of this new Earth was indeed gritty. He slowly raised his hands to the aching throb in the back of his head and wondered if his skull was cracked. He managed to peel one eye open and winced as the bright sunlight almost blinded him. This new pain made both his eyes water, but he blinked rapidly to get the waterwor
ks under control, and forced both eyes open. “Time to finish what I started,” he muttered to himself as he forced his body to move. Slowly, he placed his palms on the ground, forcing arms to straighten. He pulled his chest up and brought his knees underneath him. On the count of three,” he urged himself as he mentally ticked off the numbers. “Three!”

  He forced his muscles to move, to bring him into a standing position. And flopped back onto his face.

  “Damn ,” he shouted. “Damn, damn, damn!” He pounded the sand in front of his face, sending dirt flying as he gave in to a small fit of temper.

  “Help me!” he screamed as he rolled onto his back, his sudden anger at the world lending him strength. “Help me!” he screamed again. “Is this why you brought me here? Why is this happening? What do you want from me? What are you doing to me? Help me!”

  Then he felt a tugging at his right leg. It was so unexpected that it pulled him from his fit and made him look down. There on his leg, was the small pink Chroan who had latched onto him before. It was so startling that he lay there for a moment, his eyes locked onto the pink bug that seemed to be urging him to his feet.

  “Damn,” he muttered. “This may be a sign.” Pulling himself into a sitting position, he stared at the small bug stuck to the right leg of his robes. “Okay,” he groaned as the bug began to click and chatter. “I’m moving.”

  Garnering his strength again, he rolled to his hands and knees and this time managed to successfully climb to his feet, his six-legged cheering section urging him on. “Now to finish what I started,” he said, his face flushed with the thrill of his successful standing. The bug released its grip on his leg and scuttled a few feet in what seemed to be an easterly direction. It then scampered back to him before repeating itself.

  “What?” he asked, no longer concerned that he was speaking to a bug. He had bigger problems. But the bug repeated itself, it beady eyes looking almost imploringly at him. Then the light dawned.