FSF, September 2007

by Spilogale, Inc

  Just before dawn—

  —the sky filling with light, indigo paling to dark blue, the faintest stars fading out—

  —the Pack came—

  —their arrival heralded by the blat of a car alarm, which, she realized, Wayne must have rigged for exactly this purpose—in an instant, she had hefted the rifle to her cheek and one of the Pack leapt into focus; she moved the gun back and forth and saw two behind that one, and one more bringing up the rear, the four of them about ten feet behind the rope barrier, making their way slowly, placing each plate-sized foot with care, stopping to sniff the road in front of them, pausing to study the Bridge's support cables—there was enough time for Jackie to verify her initial count a second, a third time, and once she was certain that the four things she saw were the Pack, that was it, there were no others padding along behind them, her heart lifted with a fierce joy and she thought, Four, there are four of them; we can do this; Wayne was right; we can be free of them, finally—they were in rough shape, these four; it looked as if they'd pulled themselves from the wreckage of the trap at the mall: their hides were decorated with cuts, slashes, burns; patches of hair had been torn and scraped away; flaps of skin hung down like streamers; the one she'd focused on first appeared to have something wrong with its left eye, which was crusted with dark blood, while the one bringing up the rear was trailing its left back leg behind it—that they had survived made them the fittest, yes, thank you, Mr. Darwin, but watching their cautious advance, Jackie was reminded of her grandmother's dog, a poodle that had been old when she was a child and had grown steadily more gray, more infirm, more trembling and tentative each year, and if her heart wasn't moved to pity; the last four weeks had insured the impossibility of that; the association tempered her joy—It's time to end this, she thought, and turned to wake Wayne, who was (of course) already up and jamming pistols into his jeans, slipping the strap of his bag-of-tricks over his head, his face still—he crouched beside her, holding a third pistol out to her: “In case one of them makes it past me,” he said as she took it, checked the safety, and set it on the rock beside her—he reached for her backpack, dragged it around for her to lean on: “Take the one to the rear,” he said, “and any others that try to escape,” and before she could answer, he was running away from her, heading back along the ledge—holding the rifle aloft with her right hand, Jackie eased herself up and down, until she was lying against the backpack, then brought the rifle into position, fitting the stock against her shoulder, anchoring it against the meat to take the kick, which Wayne had assured her wasn't that bad—she looked through the sight and there were the Pack, stopped in their tracks, their hackles raised; she could hear them, a deep bass note like a viol whose strings were frayed out of true, and she curled her finger around the trigger, ready for them to panic and flee, reminding herself to squeeze, not pull, and wondering if she would be able to hit, let alone stop, any of them—Wayne was running down the road toward the Bridge, his hands empty, and when the Pack saw him, the note they were holding rose to a ragged shriek, drowning out whatever Wayne was shouting at them; taunting them, no doubt, urging them on (and a part of her wondered why that should work, why animals would respond to insult, and she wondered if they weren't animals, but wasn't sure what such a question implied, because she couldn't imagine machines being bothered by Wayne's provocations, which left what? people? which was ridiculous).

  It was over quickly—

  —or so Jackie would think afterwards—while everything was taking place, it seemed to occur with agonizing slowness, almost a series of tableaux that shifted with each change in the Bridge's lights:

  violet, and Wayne was in mid-run, his mouth open, his hands out to either side of him, the leader of the Pack's jaws tightening into a snarl that was strangely close to a grin, the others stepping forward;

  blue, and Wayne was stopped, no more than twenty feet from the rope barrier, which, seen against the Pack drawing closer to it, seemed fanciful, a child's approximation of a more substantial arrangement;

  green, and the leader was crouching to jump, Wayne's hands were still empty, the rear member of the Pack had ceased moving forward and appeared to be considering retreat; Jackie had its shortened head in the crosshairs;

  yellow, and the leader was in the air, Wayne's hands were full of the pistols he was pointing not at the thing hanging suspended before him, but the pair behind it; the rearguard had turned to bolt, jerking its head out of the target, showing Jackie its neck;

  orange, and the leader had struck the web and been caught in it, the ropes sagging but holding it up; the ends of Wayne's pistols were flaring white as he emptied them into the middle two members of the Pack, which lurched forward even as he blew their heads to pieces; the remaining thing was in the process of swinging itself around to flee, exposing the back of its head to Jackie's aim and she squeezed the trigger, the rifle flashing and cracking and slamming back into her shoulder, almost tearing itself out of her hands;

  red, and she was struggling the sight back to her face, trying to find the last member of the Pack before it was too far away, hoping for one more shot, maybe she could wound it, cripple it and Wayne could finish it, but she couldn't see it, it was gone, and she swept the sight back and forth and there it was, its legs splayed out, the front of its head gone, shattered, and for a moment she was so happy she wanted to shout out loud, and then she thought of Wayne and searched for him, her finger hovering over the trigger;

  orange, again, and she saw that Wayne had abandoned the pistols, cast them to either side, and was walking toward the last member of the Pack, which had not succeeded in disentangling itself from Wayne's rope trap and which twisted and writhed, biting the air in its frustration; she thought, What the hell? and aimed for the thing's chest; but

  yellow, and something was wrong, the sight was dark; she drew back from it, blinked, and looked through it, again;

  green, and she saw that Wayne was wearing a cape, that he was trailed by a length of blackness that billowed behind and to either side of him, across which the green light rippled and shimmered;

  blue, and Wayne was standing in front of the thing, his head covered by the same blackness, except for his mouth, which was saying something to the thing that scrambled to get at him, and Jackie should have been able to read his lips; she had always been good at that; but she couldn't believe what she was seeing;

  violet, and Wayne had reached out arms coated in black, seized the last member of the Pack's jaws, and torn its head apart, the thing convulsing as blood as dark as whatever it was enshrouded Wayne geysered from its neck—without thinking, Jackie centered the crosshairs on Wayne's chest, on the darkness that she could swear was undulating across it, that, God help her, was twitching toward the blood misting the air, and time became a room she could walk around in, sorting out the multitude of voices screaming in her head: one of them shouting, “What the fuck!” and another, “What are you doing?” and a third, “How are you going to survive without him?” a fourth, “You owe him,” and a fifth, “What is he?"—her finger light on the trigger; if she were going to do this, it had to be now; in another second, Wayne would notice what she was doing—then the lights went out on the Bridge, plunging her view into shadow, and the baby chose that moment to kick, hard, a blow that made her say, “Oof!” and release the trigger, and then whatever Wayne had set up on the Bridge detonated in a burst of light and sound, a brilliant white CRUMP that had her ducking behind the backpack, hands over her head, the rifle dropped, forgotten—the air around her convulsed with the force of it; the rock behind her shuddered as the surface of the Bridge fell away to the river below, support wires snapping like overtightened guitar strings, shreds of metal, shards of pavement, a steering wheel raining around her as the Bridge groaned—Jackie risked a glance and saw it sagging inwards, its back broken, the forces it had balanced unleashed upon it—the suspension cables trembled, the towers leaned toward each other and she was sure the entire structure was going to t
wist itself asunder—the baby kicked again, a one-two combination, and she took what shelter she could behind the backpack, while the ledge continued to vibrate and the moan of thousands of tons of metal protesting its end echoed off the hills above her, making the baby squirm, and she covered her stomach with her hands, curling around it as best she could, saying it was all right, everything was all right—

  —and after, Jackie set out north—

  —past another trio of cars offering their floral inhabitants the same view day in, day out—she was accompanied by Wayne, who had reappeared while the Bridge was not done complaining (though it didn't fall: its towers canted crazily; its cables were too taut at the ends and too slack in the middle; and there was no way it was passable; but it still joined one shore to the other), and who was free of his black, what would you call it? costume?—she settled for accompaniment, awkward but accurate—in response to her question, he answered that yes, that was the end of them, but they had better get a move on: Kingston was a long way off, and who knew what this side of the Hudson would be like?—If he knew that Jackie had held him in her sights, cradling his life as she cradled the life of the baby who hadn't stopped reminding her of its presence these last hours (which meant that [maybe] she could relax about it), or if he suspected the questions that balanced at the very limit of her tongue, threatening to burst forth with the slightest provocation, or if he guessed that she walked with one hand jammed into the sweatjacket she'd tugged on because she'd hidden the third pistol there, telling him it must have been carried off the ledge by the force of the explosion, Wayne gave no sign of it.

  By nightfall, they had traveled far.

  —For Fiona, and with Thanks to John Joseph Adams

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  Requirements for the Mythology Merit Badge by Kevin N. Haw

  Kevin Haw says that writing computer code is more lucrative, but writing speculative fiction is much more fun. His short fiction has appeared in Dragon, Black Gate, and Jim Baen's Universe. He lives in Fullerton, California, with his wife, JoAnn, and he uses Java to amaze visitors to his Website, www.theHaws.org.

  1. Explain to your Merit Badge counselor what Mythology is and how it differs from folklore. Describe Participatory Mythology and why we study it. Discuss how the events of 23 September 2006 forever changed mankind's relationship with the gods and explain why no one made note of them at the time.

  2. What is a god? What is a hero? What is a Hero? Why is capitalization so important to your personal safety in making these distinctions?

  3. Use the Internet to research how the Pagan Awakening affected your hometown, the timeline of events, and the backgrounds of the deities that first Awoke in your region.

  4. Recite the twelve labors of Hercules. Perform any two of them.

  5. Do one of the following:

  a. Compose an ode or song describing the interactions of the first supernatural beings that Awoke and the “mundane” population. Use the safety checklist in your merit badge pamphlet to verify your grammar and delete any accidental rhymes before reading your work aloud to an audience.

  b. Describe the habits and physiology of one of the following creatures: Gorgon, Centaur, Dragon (Chinese or European), Harpy, Naga, Kappa, Tengu, Minotaur, Chimera, or Nemean Lion. Describe how a Hero might slay such a creature, the ecological implications of doing so, and the proper hunting permits that would be required in your town or city.

  c. Plan a trip to one of the following: The Parthenon, the Great Pyramids, Mount Olympus, Valhalla, Stonehenge, Hades, or Baker, CA. Describe how you would get there (i.e. by car, airplane, Charon's boat, etc.) and where you would stay (hotel, campsite, large wooden horse, etc.).

  d. Visit a temple near your home and talk with the priest or priestess about the role of their deity in the Grand Design. See if the sect has an apprenticeship program and find out what you would have to do to join the priesthood.

  Warning: Do not sign any legal documents or submit to any surgical procedures without your parents’ permission.

  e. Name and describe the four species of fairies indigenous to North America. Use the guidelines in your merit badge pamphlet to fairy-proof your family's house or apartment. Describe what you should do if you encounter a swarm of carnivorous, “Africanized” fairies.

  6. Do two of the following:

  a. Recount the Native American legend of Coyote, the trickster god, from his role in the creation of the universe through his appointment as Federal Reserve Chairman.

  b. Study the history of the Pantheon Battles and name all the deities that emerged victorious from the conflict. If one of the battle sites on the National Parks Service Safe List is near your home, visit it. Report to your counselor what offerings you gave at the memorial shrine.

  c. Purchase one of the following products from your local store: Bacchus Beer™, Dr. Rodriguez's Quetzalcoatl Foot Ointment™, Banshee™ Brand earplugs, or Fresca™ soda. Read the safety instructions on the package and explain them to your counselor.

  d. Recount the legend of Atlantis. Use newspaper clippings to explain the impact of its resurfacing on international shipping routes and Global Warming.

  e. Draw your family tree at least four generations back. Explain the terms “dominant gene,” “infectious DNA,” and “retroactive inheritance.” Explain what the Mythical Offspring Act is and how it prevented civil war. On your family tree, mark your earliest ancestor to demonstrate Mythical Properties and tell His/Her story.

  7. Memorize the exact date that the Mortal Age ended in your state or province. Create a shadow box or diorama recounting those events. Animating the models through mechanical or occult means is encouraged but not required.

  8. Discuss career opportunities in Mythology with your counselor. Research what schooling and/or lineage would be required for each job.