Pyramid Scheme

by Dave Freer

  "Bes! Protector!" Jerry's shriek was overridden by the bray of a giant mule that has suddenly found that it is falling.

  Jerry managed to transfer his hand from Liz's hair to her arm. He tried to pull her onto the sphinx. A mule hoof, fortunately at the end of its travel, nearly sent him spinning. It did send the mule spinning. Jerry clung desperately to Liz. She clung weakly to him. But a last mule kick ripped her out of his gasp. She was falling.

  Jerry did the craziest thing he'd ever done in his life. He dived after her.

  It was only when he was also falling that he realized how insane that was. Looking down he realized they were still at least a hundred feet above the ground. And there, clear in the moonlight for an instant, was Bes. The dwarf had somehow landed safely and was waving his arms as if trying to catch their attention.

  "BEEEESSSS!" yelled Jerry.

  He tried to reach for Liz. The moon was darkened by a diving sphinx. A claw closed on his jacket, which mercifully ripped as it was about to throttle him and pull his arms off at the same time.

  Impact.

  Soft impact.

  * * *

  After a few seconds Jerry sat up. Or tried to. He was alive. Somehow he was alive. Alive and lying in some soft stuff. Which was getting up his nose...

  He sneezed. Somebody groaned.

  Something akin to a small hurricane pulled the soft stuff aside. "I wish you'd stayed on the sphinx," grumbled Bes. "Do you know what trouble I had moving this stuff around to catch you both?"

  "Liz?" called Jerry.

  "Unggh."

  Jerry beat Bes pushing through the reed blossom and lotus petal mass. Liz had not had the benefit of sphinx-assisted braking. She'd gone all the way down to the soft deltaic mud underneath. Jerry hauled her upright.

  "Auuuh!" The mud-and-petal-covered woman caught her breath. "Gently. I think that arm is broken."

  Then Throttler came down and covered them all in lotus-blossom petals again. After he burrowed them out, Jerry half-carried Liz to the small tree-covered islet.

  He bit his lip. Snapped two branches. Ripped the remains of his shirt into shreds. "I'm going to have to hurt you, Liz. I'm really sorry. I've got to splint that arm."

  She looked at him, her eyes moist in the moonlight. "You crazy fool. It hurts like hell but I'm still alive, thanks to you. Do your worst."

  "Crazy fool are the right words," snorted Throttler incredulously, "but not strong enough. He jumped after you. Did you know that?"

  Liz nodded. "I saw. I'd call him 'my hero' except"—her cheeks dimpled, despite the pain—"he is. Ow!"

  A while later, after the strapping had been done, Jerry asked, "How come you aren't dead, Bes?"

  The dwarf grinned. "In Ur-Egypt?" He looked around. "It's nice to be back, but I really fancy this world of yours. Cruz was telling me that they have these dwarf-tossing contests . . . "

  "Well," said Liz, her good arm over Jerry's shoulder. "I hate to say it, but I think we must get back to Olympus. They may need us, and I certainly could use some of Mac's so-called brandy."

  PART X

  In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

  A stately pleasure-dome decree . . .

  —Samuel Taylor Coleridge,

  "Kubla Khan"

  49

  Put no faith in promises.

  Cash only.

  By the time the sphinx had ferried them back to Olympus, rosy-fingered dawn was already painting the mountain. Their return was eagerly awaited.

  "I thought you'd bought a farm that time, Liz!" said Mac. Then, grinning: "Sir."

  Liz smiled weakly, pointing to her arm. "Close. But they wanted an arm and a leg for the farm. Jerry would only let them have one arm."

  She reached out with the other hand and took Jerry by the arm and pulled him closer. "Our Jerry's something of a hero. If you can call saving me being heroic, that is. Between him, Throttler and Bes, they kept me alive."

  "And you got rid of Selene so all of us stayed alive," said Jerry quietly, but firmly. "Now, Mac, come and look at this arm. I did my best, but I'd appreciate it if you checked it out."

  Mac's grin widened. "So long as you don't want me to shave all over first."

  * * *

  The gods and goddesses of Olympus woke to a new regime. One that didn't want to be there. Prometheus had dragged the beds of the Olympians into the central square.

  Oh. And also a net bag with two very unhappy occupants.

  The sight of the Olympians sweating away in the bright sunlight greeted Medea's two children, when they arrived from Ortherys. With all the kindness and generosity of youth, they started bouncing on the beds and their occupants. It's a very effective antisoporific.

  Prometheus quelled the groanings and querulous "what's-going-ons?" with a bellow. "Quiet!"

  There was silence, except from the net bag. "Throw a bucket of cold water over them," said Medea to her older son.

  Typhoeus allowed Zeus to sit upright. Prometheus cleared his throat. "All right, all of you. Zeus has some explaining to do."

  "And Mother is very displeased with all of you," growled Typhoeus. "Very displeased indeed. Especially with you, Hera. As Zeus' wife, Mother expects you to keep him on the straight and narrow."

  "He beats me if I try," Hera whined.

  Typhoeus snorted. "I'm staying on here. Mother says I'm to sort him out."

  "I foresee a new silver age for Olympus," said Jerry to Liz, sotto voce.

  "What's that?"

  "According to Hesiod, a time when men obeyed their mothers all their lives. It is interpreted by scholars as an age of matriarchal rule." Jerry grinned. "I think they got it wrong. I think it was a time when Typhoeus said: Mommy says."

  Lamont grinned. "The monster's not Egyptian, is he?"

  Bes shook his head. "Nope. I wonder whether he'd like a wrestling match?"

  Bit by bit the story of how the Krim had misled the Olympians came out. Promises of power and glory, which had ended up with the Krim enjoying all the power and all the joys of the flesh, in their chosen representatives, while these became little more than prisoners in their own bodies. Finally an oath was sworn, on the Styx and by Gaea, by each and every Olympian that the Krim and its servants were to be hunted and harried hence.

  "Hatchoo!" The net bag shook.

  "This is all your fault!" hissed Amphitrite, her voice vibrant with anger.

  "The Krim bade be do it," whined Hermes. "I don't even like you. And I'b caught a coad."

  A meaty slap rang out from inside the bag.

  * * *

  "Egypt is a wise choice, my friends," said Prometheus. "Zeus has sworn not to harm or hinder you. Hera and Typhoeus will try to see that he keeps his promises. But I distrust him."

  "Yeah, I think getting out of here before he's free is a smart move," said Lamont. "And we can do more with Egyptian myth-magic. Maybe even figure out a way home."

  Prometheus smiled. "Good luck."

  The former maintenance man and now part-time Greek-god repressor shook hands with the Titan. "You too. You're going to need it."

  "You're sure that we can't somehow get Athena to transform Arachne back?" demanded Mac.

  Prometheus sucked air through his tombstone-sized teeth. "We've tried. You saw how we tried. But she is vicious and vengeful. Even if we could kill her, she's not going to give way. Perhaps with Egyptian magic it may be possible."

  Mac scowled ferociously. He'd advocated torturing Athena, earlier, but had been overruled. "Well, we've taken away her armor and spear. If she wants them back she'd better come to terms with us."

  Prometheus shook his head sadly. "I doubt it. But at least it will stop her committing too many more military atrocities."

  Their farewells said, the snatchees mounted one of the chariots of the gods, accompanied by Bes, Arachne, Medea, and the children. These chariots flew with more ease than Medea's and were also large enough for a garden party. The dragons were hitched up.

  "I wafs thinking," mused Smitar, "what about
Olympian fstew?"

  "Eternal fstew," said Bitar.

  There was a moment's silence. "I fsuppose it could maybe give you eternal runfs," said Smitar doubtfully.

  "Eternal heartburn," added Bitar.

  "Eternal fsquirtfs," shuddered Smitar.

  Cruz took the reins. "Right. Mount Ortherys and then Egypt."

  "Not flying all the way to Egypt again!" protested Bitar.

  "Yefs," complained Smitar. "Not again. fSailorfs don't even tafste nifce!"

  "The sphinx thinks that if we're all in contact, we can all go sphinx-to-sphinx-image travel," comforted Jerry.

  * * *

  Jerry looked back at the mountain. He wasn't instantly turned into a pillar of salt—but it was close.

  "We're being chased!" he yelled.

  Behind them, but gaining fast, were chariots bearing Ares, Apollo and Athena.

  "So that's how Zeus keeps his promises," hissed Lamont.

  "Yeah—to the letter. But not the spirit. He's not following us. Not himself."

  "I'll jump before I let Athena catch me!" said Arachne, with grim determination.

  "I'm going to put a doped arrow into the bitch first," snapped Mac.

  Medea shook her head regretfully. "It won't work twice."

  "Throttler!" yelled Jerry. "We need to all make contact and get to a sphinx image!"

  Cruz grabbed his arm. "Does it work with any sphinx image?"

  "Yes. Anywhere there was belief."

  "I'm an idiot!" snarled Cruz. He grubbed frantically in his rucksack, scattering his belongings everywhere. Then, he hauled out a 5" x 3" painting which had once been a photograph.

  "In Vegas you can always find somebody who believes in anything you could think of! Especially money! Here, Throttler. This is the sphinx statue we want to go to!"

  Throttler nodded. "All link up. Athena is gaining fast. One of you dragons will have to take my tail in your mouth. Don't chew."

  * * *

  Athena closed with incredible rapidity. Dragons were not that fast at sky swimming. Hands and bodies were just linked, when she threw herself out of her higher chariot at them. "Got youuu!" she yelled in triumph.

  * * *

  The zip feeling was long drawn out. Something was clutching Jerry's shoulder as tightly as he held onto Liz's hand.

  50

  Dwarves untossed.

  They flashed out of the bright Mediterranean morning sunshine into an even brighter desert day. They were heading straight for a black pyramid. For a horrible moment, Jerry thought it was the Krim pyramid. Then, looking more closely, he saw that the pyramid had four sides instead of five, with a glass apex. And the giant sphinx in front of it was painted blue and yellow.

  Cruz cleared up the mystery. "That's it!" the paratrooper shouted triumphantly. "Las Vegas! The Luxor casino!"

  Athena's yell of triumph turned into a shriek of confusion. The goddess, still clutching Jerry's shoulder, was the only one who wasn't bellowing in glee as they bounced to a rough landing on the small plaza right in front of the Luxor, barely missing the obelisk perched on its south side.

  * * *

  Jerry took a deep breath as he looked around. The traffic on the Strip was already screeching to a halt. Even for Las Vegas, he realized, the sudden apparition of a real sphinx, two dragons and a huge chariot was . . . unusual. A traffic stopper.

  Then he caught sight of McKenna. He had a gorgeous girl with the face of Arachne in his arms. Apparently, the transfer to the real world had eradicated the effects of Athena's curse. Of course, since the spider hadn't been wearing clothes, neither was the young woman in Mac's arms. But the sight of a nude woman, he supposed, was only a minor distraction in Las Vegas.

  "Talk about luck," muttered Lamont.

  Jerry turned on him. "That's just it! LUCK. You've got Tyche's blessing, Lamont! No wonder you never got seriously hurt. No wonder we got home."

  Lamont opened his mouth. "And the rest of you?"

  "Since we were with you, we shared your luck. I guess."

  Jerry took a long look at the shrunken Athena huddled in the bottom of the chariot. Her face and body had obviously benefited from Olympian magic-style plastic surgery. The magic hadn't transferred to their own world. "Athena's spells don't work here. So Arachne is human again."

  Lamont grinned. "So I guess Mac's about to get lucky too. I suppose that means my run of luck is over. Pity. I enjoyed fishing."

  * * *

  Jerry Lukacs grinned back and Lamont chuckled. Now that they were back in their own world, the transformation of Jerry Lukacs was more striking than anyone's. This was a very different man from the weedy academic who had been snatched from the Oriental Institute. It wasn't just the tanned face, the ragged clothes or the sinewy brown arms that protruded from the rolled-up tunic sleeves. It was his posture. It hadn't seemed so noticeable back in the Mythworld. But here, back in the U.S.A., the difference was startlingly obvious to Lamont.

  "I don't see why," Jerry said cheerfully. "Lady Luck has got to be the one goddess that is still very much in favor. Especially around this part of the world. You could say she still has a fair number of temples and devotees."

  Cruz pulled out his dice. "Bet you ten bucks you can't beat me." He threw a straight. Lamont shrugged. Picked up the dice. Tossed a royal flush.

  "He's still got it!" Cruz picked up Lamont by the elbows and practically tossed him out of the chariot. "We're going to make a fortune!"

  Lamont took a deep breath. "I haven't got any money."

  Cruz grinned. He rummaged around in his tattered rucksack. Pulled out a card, miraculously restored from fine-painted ivory to plastic. "I've got a bank card and I'll stake you. And with your luck, it'll still work despite what it's been through."

  Lamont nodded determinedly. "Why not? It's not really gambling, when you think about it. And I've got a family to support again." The relief that last thought brought him was almost blinding. "But first I've got to call Marie and let her know I'm back."

  * * *

  By now, a large crowd was gathering and beginning to spill onto Las Vegas Boulevard. Through the mob two policemen pushed their way to the fore, and not far behind them came half a dozen men wearing some kind of uniform. The Luxor's security force, Jerry supposed.

  Bes was unhitching the dragons. Medea clung to Cruz's arm. "What king can afford such palaces?"

  Jerry was startled to hear Medea speaking in perfect English. Without, even, any accent.

  Athena groaned. "Where am I?"

  She, too, was speaking English. Somehow, Jerry realized, Medea's language magic was still working. But he didn't have time to figure out how, because the situation began rapidly deteriorating.

  "Where am I?" repeated Athena. The goddess' voice was becoming shrill.

  Mac, his arms around Arachne, grinned nastily. "You're in trouble. That's where you are, you vindictive bitch. In trouble and a looong way from home. Enjoy!"

  The first policeman was now at the side of the chariot. Before he could utter a word, Mac grabbed Athena by the scruff of her tunic and practically tossed her into the cops' arms. "Arrest her, officers! She's a kidnapper!"

  The uncertainty of the policemen was immediately dispelled by Athena, who began shrieking like a lunatic and scratching at their faces. Cursing under his breath, one cop subdued her while his partner handcuffed the goddess. Former goddess, rather. Still-practicing deities don't have their Miranda Rights read to them. . . .

  Jerry looked around and realized that they were on the verge of pure chaos. And worse.

  Even now, Throttler was eagerly advancing on a group of tourists, licking her chops. "Why did the chicken cross the road?" she roared.

  "To get to the other side," squeaked several of the tourists, edging back in near panic. One young lad, a brash fellow, snorted and exclaimed: "Oh, bullshit! For a fowl reason!"

  Throttler's eager expression changed to a hurt one. She looked reproachfully back at the Americans.

  McKenna chuck
led. "Everybody here knows that one, Throttler. Try your old standard!" The young paratrooper scanned the crowd cheerfully. "Not too many classical scholars in this bunch, I'm willing to—"

  "You idiot!" hissed Cruz. "She'll eat anybody who blows it!"

  McKenna looked chagrinned. Hastily, Jerry hopped off the chariot and hurried over to Throttler. "You can't eat people here!" he shouted.

  Throttler's scowl was truly frightening. "I'm hungry," she roared.

  "fSo are we!" bellowed Bitar and Smitar. The two dragons gave the mob their own hungry look. Bitar's eyes fell on a very good-looking young woman at the forefront, dressed in a halter top and tight shorts.

  "Ifs thifs a maiden?" he demanded.

  The girl giggled. "In Las Vegas?You want Kansas, you big snake!"

  The tourists packed at the front of the crowd tried to edge back further. But it was impossible. The press was becoming incredible from the streams of onlookers racing toward the scene from every direction. The traffic on the Strip was now locked solid. People were clambering out of their cars to get a better look.

  Jerry was desperately trying to think of some way to forestall an impromptu slaughter when he caught sight of a burly man in an expensive-looking suit forcing his way to the front. The fellow was balding, middle-aged, and accompanied by several security guards. He had "boss" written all over him.

  "Are you in charge here?" Jerry yelled.

  The man more or less burst out of the crowd and came up to him. "Hank Flanders. I'm the general manager of the Luxor." He stuck out his hand and gave Jerry a firm handshake.

  Firm and very brief. The general manager's eyes were shrewd and knowing. "I'm willing to bet you guys are that one big group of alien abductees that never came back dead. Your photographs have been all over the papers. Although—" The knowing eyes flitted rapidly over the party, spending no more time on the nude figure of Arachne than anyone else. "They didn't do you justice."

  Jerry nodded mutely. But Flanders' shrewd gaze was already riveted on the sphinx and the two dragons. "Can we figure you're their agent?" he asked. "I'll give all three of them a top contract. Work starts immediately, and for as long as the monsters are willing to sign for."