Lavabull

by J. R. Rain

  Her clothing puffed into ashes and went up in smoke. Oh, she had been dressed for this, in the vision? Now she was smokily naked but unburned. “Come and get it, big boy,” she called to the dragon.

  Could this be a fantasy game Templa played with the Bear? He would hug the dragon, whose body would feel like the woman’s, and they would make mad love? So it had been adapted to terrorize Lavender. But she simply did not fit the frame. If she got hold of the dragon, she would make short work of it.

  If? She had been holding Templa when this scene came on, as she had remembered. She had not let go. She could take control of this vision. She reached out and caught the tail of the dragon as it swooped past her. She hauled it in close. It did feel like a woman. In a moment, she had the telepath in her embrace. Well now.

  Templa struggled, but Lavender muscled her into position for a hot kiss. Very hot. There was a stifled scream, and it wasn’t her own.

  The vision dissolved. “Help!” Templa cried through burnt lips.

  Villainous paused in his own bear hug with The Bull. He reached out and caught Lavender by the shoulder. He hurled her against the wall. Templa fell away, sobbing through scorched lips.

  The Bull, seeing his opening, leveled a thunderous blow, smashing Villainous in the face. The animan fell to the floor. The Bull dived for him before he could recover his feet, ready to finish the job.

  “Do it!” Villainous cried to the woman.

  Templa visibly focused on The Bull. She was sending the kill thought!

  Villainous collapsed. The Bull stood over him uncertainly. Was he faking?

  No. The animan was unconscious or dead.

  “What happened?” The Bull asked, bewildered. “I didn’t hit him that hard.”

  “It was the shunt,” Lavender said. “The protection against cheating.”

  “The what?”

  “I had the volcano put a mental shunt in your head,” she explained. “It didn’t do anything itself; it was inert. You didn’t feel it at all. But when Templa sent the knockout or kill thought, the shunt bounced it off you and to Villainous. He got blasted. He’s a victim of friendly fire.”

  “Templa tried to kill me?”

  “Or cripple you so Villainous could kill you. She was his secret weapon. He had no intention of fighting fair.”

  “The bastard!”

  There was a groan. Templa was sitting on the floor. She was looking at the fallen Bear. “You killed him!” she said through ragged lips.

  “No, you did,” Lavender told her. “It was your mental blast that felled him. You got the wrong target.”

  The woman looked at her. Then her tears turned to fury. “Well, I won’t get the wrong target again.”

  Lavender knew that the telepath could strike mentally before either of them could reach her. Templa was probably more dangerous now than Villainous would have been. This battle was not yet over.

  Chapter 23: Impasse

  “Be smart, Templa,” said Lavender. “You did hit the right target. Your blast rebounded and hit Villainous instead. Bull is protected, and so am I. Your mental blast could very well have rebound and hit you.”

  I knew I was protected, but I hadn’t known Lavender was, although it stood to reason. Why not also protect one of their own? Then again, I didn’t know much about any of this. I was a simple man, after all. They were right about that. Indeed, I lived to drink and fight and copulate—and not necessarily in that order. Villainous had proven to be a worthy opponent, too. It had been a glorious battle that had ended far too soon. Indeed, one moment I had been locked-up in mortal combat—and loving every second of it—and the next, Villainous was lying on the ground, seemingly dead.

  I looked down at the many wounds inflicted by the massive white bear and his razor sharp claws and teeth. Already the wounds were healing. Whatever mad science had created me, had also infused me with rapid cell regeneration. Before my very eyes, my wounds were healing and closing and disappearing altogether. Only the fresh splatters of blood remained.

  “Yes, Bull, you were designed to regenerate,” said Templa, although I don’t think she was reading my mind. Reading my body language was more like it. “You were, in fact, designed to live a long, long time.”

  “He’s immortal?” asked Lavender.

  “Not quite, but close. His skin cells are configured to replace themselves immediately...” She knelt down and ran a hand over the bear’s bloodied face. I had done a number on him. I noted that he wasn’t regenerating. He just lay there, unmoving.

  “My death thought, as I call it, can effectively shut down a brain,” said Templa. “Or, more accurately, fry a brain. He’s quite dead. Such a shame. He was a worthy lover and a devoted follower.”

  “Follower?” asked Lavender.

  “Yes, follower. Polar Bear made such a good Villainous, don’t you think? Very convincing.”

  “Then who’s Villainous...”

  “She is, Bull,” said Lavender. “Polar Bear was a fake. He was only pretending. Or being compelled to pretend.”

  “Maybe a little of both,” said Templa, shrugging. “Perhaps you two failed to note Polar Bear’s claws? Hard to do serious lab work without opposable thumbs.” She studied me. “I am reminded of the old riddle where a father and son are in a car accident. The father dies instantly, and the son is transported to the nearest hospital. Once there, the doctor comes in and exclaims: ‘I can’t operate on this boy.’ ‘Why not?’ one of the nurses asks. And the doctor responds: ‘Because he’s my son.’”

  “This is hardly a time for riddle—” began Lavender.

  “I don’t get it,” I said, cutting in. “I thought the dad had died.”

  Lavender elbowed me in the ribs. “The doctor is his mother, you big dope.”

  “Ah,” I said, nodding. “Now I get it.”

  “And that’s the problem: the world is full of dopes,” said Templa. “Chauvinistic dopes, powerful dopes. Dopes who will do all they can to keep us women down, to subjugate us, torment us, rape us, and give us far less than our fair share. Even a girl who, at the age of fourteen, had been top of her class at MIT. A girl who would go on to be the leading geneticists of her time, a girl who had been forced, time and time again, to prove herself to far inferior males. A girl who had removed herself from society. A girl who had used her family’s vast fortune to create everything you see before you. Even you, Bull.” She paused, breathing deeply. She had gotten herself worked up. “Of course, much of my plan involves rebuilding under the earth while the surface radiation dissipates. To do that, I need to reach an agreement with the lava folk. Their magma chambers would make ideal cities. Not to mention, I do not wish a war with them.” She looked at Lavender. “That’s where you come in.”

  “Forget it. No way in hell I’m helping you destroy the world.”

  “I could try to coerce you. You are, after all, surrounded by a small army of animen.”

  “Two words,” I said. “Mark Twain.”

  Templa nodded. “Exactly. With those two words, you could effectively render my army into a pack of mindless animals.” She looked at Lavender. “Not to mention, if any harm came to you, I suspect this cavern would boil over with magma.”

  “You can say that again, sister,” said Lavender. “So you can tell your human guards to lower their weapons.”

  “You sense them?” asked Templa, surprised.

  “Ten of them, scattered throughout the plastic city.”

  “Very good, Lava girl. You are stronger than I thought. Maybe even stronger than you thought, too.”

  “Just remember,” said Lavender, “if we die, the lava folk attack.”

  “Understood,” said Templa, bowing slightly. “The human guards are simply my assurance that Bull Boy doesn’t gore me to death. I don’t have to read minds to know what he’s thinking.”

  I blinked. She was right, of course. I had, indeed, been thinking that most of this problem goes away if Templa suddenly found herself on the wrong end of one of my
long horns.

  “I die, and we all die,” said Templa.

  “Understood,” said Lavender. “Like you said, an impasse. What, then?”

  Templa took in a lot of air. “I spent years planning for this moment. Down to the last detail. What I hadn’t planned on was either of you or the lava folk. What’s the old saying... the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”

  “Very apropos,” said Lavender.

  Templa, or Villainous, sighed. “And since I have effectively assassinated the President of the United States, I will be on the run for the rest of my life.”

  “And no doubt planning the future destruction of the earth?” quipped Lavender.

  “Oh, that is a given,” said Templa, winking.

  I could be wrong—and I hoped like hell I was wrong—but these two seemed to be getting along. Hell, it was as if they were bonding or something.

  I stepped forward, ready to put a stop to this. “Well, I for one want to get the hell out of here.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  “And no funny business,” I said.

  “I assure you there will be none.”

  “So says the woman who had no problem murdering billions,” I mumbled.

  “We all have dreams,” said Templa, shrugging. “The world needs a good villain, and I am more than happy to fulfill that role.” She cocked her head to one side, as if listening to someone invisible next to her. “Now, if you two are ready, your submersible awaits.”

  Chapter 24: Proposal

  Lavender did not trust this. Templa was letting them go? How would that resolve the impasse?

  She did not need to read a mind to figure that one out. By detonating the sub and destroying them both without a fight. Then Templa would be free to pursue her agenda without opposition. It could be made to look like an accident.

  Smart girl.

  Except for the automatic revelation of the Mark Twain code if Lavender died. Had Templa forgotten that?

  Oops.

  Lavender put her mind into interference mode. “Distract her,” she told The Bull.

  He looked at her, surprised. “Not kill her?”

  “Not yet. If you kill her, the lurking humans we can’t stop via Mark Twain will spray this chamber with bullets and you’ll be dead. I don’t want that to happen. You’re tough, but not that tough.”

  “You won’t be dead?” he asked.

  “I can’t be killed with bullets. At least, not here. There’s too much hot stone in me. You’re the one in danger. So distract her. Kiss her if you have to. Her mind is treacherous, but her body is real, and it’s the kind you like. Have some fun with her, but keep her busy.”

  “What are you up to?” Templa asked. “I can’t read your mind now.”

  “I’m not the telepath you are,” Lavender said. “But I can block you out.” Then to The Bull: “Do it.” Meanwhile, she kept her mind clouded. Templa might read it anyway if she had time to fully focus, but probably not when she had to deal with The Bull at the same time.

  He looked dubious, but he trusted her. “Maybe a small kiss.”

  “I’ll fry your brain, cow boy,” Templa said derisively.

  “Not with the shunt. Go ahead; blast me. You’ll only wipe out yourself.” He advanced on her.

  Templa raised a hand. “One word or one signal from me will get you shot dead, bull turd. They have explosive bullets that will tear you to pieces too small to heal. I am holding off only because I prefer to keep you as leverage against the lava girl.”

  “And if you take me out, you’ll have no leverage at all,” he said. “I got that. Then she’ll kill you by burning you to death. I’m betting you’d rather make out with me than have to kill me and face her wrath.” He caught her raised hand and drew her in to him. “Hey, she’s right: your sexy body’s real.”

  “You ignorant oaf! You think you can take my lover’s place?”

  “Yeah, since you didn’t really care for him either.” He bore her back against the wall. “You said you liked animen, remember? You showed me your shapely butt. Okay, let me at it.” He grabbed her butt.

  “You insufferable beast!” She struck at him with her free hand.

  “Praise will get you nowhere,” he said, not even trying to dodge the blow. She couldn’t hurt him physically.

  He was doing a nice job. Lavender had her mind on interference, and could not read Templa any more than the woman could read her, but knew she was outraged. It wasn’t that Templa had any objection to making out with a man, any man or animan; it was that she wanted it to be on her terms, not his. Feminist that she was, she hated the notion that he could feel her up with impunity, as if she were just a passing prostitute. Lavender appreciated that aspect; she felt much the same. Her relationship with The Bull was by her choice; any other man would get burned, literally. Which was why this was such a good distraction: Templa was letting her emotions interfere with her sensible curiosity about what was on Lavender’s mind.

  Lavender put her body on auto-pilot, doing what she had laid out for it. Meanwhile, she reviewed the mental situation. Templa’s “Oops” rang false. She had not forgotten the Mark Twain caution. So why was she ready to kill Lavender and set it loose?

  The same reason Villainous had killed the president: they no longer needed him alive. For a few hours, his fingerprints and retinas would remain sharp; they could carefully cut off his fingers and pull out his eyeballs and use them.

  And that gave her the clue. Templa had now read Lavender’s mind thoroughly enough to be able to emulate it in thought. That might even be the reason for their physical meeting. She could send the ‘postpone’ signal, and the volcano would not know the difference. She no longer needed Lavender alive. She could kill Lavender by isolating her from the ground and blowing her up in the sub. She wasn’t letting them go at all; she was tricking them into their doom.

  “You unutterable turd!” Templa exclaimed. “Get your bovine muzzle off my breast!”

  The Bull did not answer. It seemed that his mouth was busy. Lavender had shown him the way of that. He was after all enjoying his chore.

  “Huh?” But that was him now. What had happened?

  “You thought the kill signal was the only one in my arsenal?” Templa demanded. “How do you like making out with a crocodile?”

  Oh no! She had made her body resemble that of the reptile, at least in appearance and sensation. Crocodiles lacked human lips, buttocks, or breasts, and a reptile belly just wouldn’t taste the same. No wonder he was out of sorts. Lavender had to admire her versatility.

  “Or a dragon?” Lavender knew how the woman could conjure a seeming dragon. She was turning the tables on The Bull without actually hurting him. “How do you think I controlled the bear man, you idiot? I could be anything he wanted—or didn’t want, depending on my mood.”

  But he had done his job. Templa had been distracted long enough. “It’s okay, Bull,” Lavender called. “You can let her be now.”

  The Bull backed away from the scaly creature. “I know it’s an illusion, but it’s a mean scaly illusion,” he said, disgruntled.

  “What was the point of all that?” Templa demanded, reappearing in a somewhat mussed state. “We’re still at an impasse, and might as well separate.”

  “We’re still at an impasse,” Lavender agreed. “But the situation has changed. Look at the president.”

  “He’s dead, but we can still use his prints and—” Templa broke off. “Oh, no!”

  “What the hell happened to him?” The Bull asked. “His hands are gone, and his eyes are smoldering.”

  “I burned out his fingers and eyes,” Lavender said. “While you distracted Miss Crocodile and I kept my mind masked. Now those prints can’t be used to validate deployment of the American nukes.”

  “But that means—”

  “No more nuclear threat,” Lavender finished smugly.

  “You bitch!” Templa exclaimed. “You set him on me while you did your dirty work.”<
br />
  “You thought reading minds was the only thing in my arsenal?” Lavender inquired sweetly. “You’re free to kill us now, but we’re also free to kill you. Since it’s not safe for us to use the sub, we might as well stay here and finish you off, The Bull in his way, and I in mine, should your minions try to interfere. That should be interesting.”

  Templa was clearly a tough minded realist. “We have nulled each other, for the moment,” she agreed. “What is on your mind, volcano spawn?”

  “I thought you’d never ask, crocodile snot. I believe it is time for us to compromise.”

  The woman considered. “It seems I underestimated you. I assumed you were just another crossbreed variant like the animen. What kind of compromise do you propose?”

  “We don’t actually have to fight, or face mutual destruction. What you’re doing below ground is worthwhile. Curbing the human decimation of the topside planet is also worthwhile. If we work together we just might improve things.”

  “I doubt we can work together,” Templa said grimly.

  “There may be a way. We have solid reasons to distrust each other. But I think it has been established that the animen are really no better than the humans, and I’m not even sure that the lava folk are perfect either. Destroying any one type will merely allow the others to prevail, prosper, and become corrupted by their dominance, to the detriment of the planet. We can’t trust any of them with ultimate power. Maybe if we combine our resources we can facilitate the colonization of other planets, where humans can settle alone, or animen, or lava folk. We are going to need new worlds; Earth is almost exhausted at this point. There’s no point in wiping out mankind along with most of the other creatures, when left unchecked mankind will soon enough do that for himself. Destruction will not usher in the braver new world.”