Fugitives of Chaos

by John C. Wright

  I said, "In case I wasn't clear on how big she was, let me say again; Grendel's mother is twice as long as this boat; there is no way to get into the water without being right next to her. As for a flying thing, I'd be surprised if Colin could take off in this weather."

  Quentin said, "If we cross the ward, and my friends return, I will not be able to send anything back across the ward to where she is wrapped around this ship. We will be able to save ourselves, but not this ship. That is assuming Colin is able to change shape, carry us all, and get us across the ward—which remains to be seen."

  Colin said, "What if Colin quits the group?"

  As what he meant sank in, I felt as if I had been slapped. Quit the group?

  Vanity looked too outraged to speak; I saw the feeling of betrayal and treason written on her features.

  Quentin bowed his head slightly, turned to one side, hiding his reaction.

  Victor remained calm. "I hope you would do us the courtesy of waiting till we are no longer in the middle of an emergency."

  Colin said, "I am not sure I want to be in a group that is going to run off and leave this whole ship's complement to die horrible, horrible deaths. What kind of people would that make us? I'd rather be dead than be that kind of person."

  Quentin said softly, "And rather have the Earth destroyed in the process, too, I suppose."

  Colin barked at him, "Yes! Why not? I am not responsible for what the folks in Chaos do! I didn't start this war!"

  The deck tilted slightly underfoot. We all felt it. After a moment, the deck righted itself.

  The sensation would not have been strange for someone in a smaller boat. Boats always rock when someone climbs over the side. A ship this size, as steady as a fortress even in the heaviest waves, would not rock if any lesser creature climbed aboard. But Echidna was not one of the lesser ones.

  Victor said, "We have no time to debate, no time to come to a consensus. At the moment, you cannot quit the group, since we are in the middle of an emergency. It is possible, I admit, that my orders are ill-advised, or even wrong. Nonetheless, you will all obey them, promptly and without question, while the emergency lasts."

  Colin said, "And what if I just say, stuff it, and go off and fight the monster myself, since no one else seems to be able to?"

  Victor spread his hands: "It would be somewhat out of character for you."

  Colin's face turned red: "Are you calling me a coward?"

  Victor said calmly, "I mean, before now, you displayed great strength of character. You have been, till now, entirely devoted to the group, even to the extent that you committed acts of vandalism and extraordinary disobedience in order to attract attention and pull punishments onto yourself which would have otherwise fallen on other members of the group, especially Amelia, who seemed not to notice your self-sacrifice. I thought it was obvious what you were doing. It showed that you were serious. Serious about the group. Are you not serious anymore?"

  Colin said, "We can't just let all these people get killed! They rescued us! You said it yourself!"

  "Nor can we all go shooting off any which way we like," said Victor.

  For some reason, Colin looked at me when Victor said that. I realized that I had not told Colin about the episode when I would not obey orders during Grendel's attack. That did not mean someone had not told him about that event. And he might have heard a version much less flattering to me than what I might have said.

  Colin compressed his lips and said nothing.

  Victor was saying, "We are losing time by this talk. I will point out that the fishmonger has already climbed aboard the deck. It is only a matter of moments before she begins tearing up hull plates and killing people. Since this matter is serious, however, I would be willing to have a vote of no-confidence right now, if someone will propose another candidate for group leader. I will ask for a straight vote with no debate. Pausing to debate might cut off any possibility of escape. Fishmonger may be sitting on the hatch that this vent leads to. Candidates?"

  Colin said, "Me. I want to lead. And I do not think we can run away. If I am elected, I am going to go fight her."

  Victor said, "No speechmaking, please. Any other candidates?"

  Quentin said, "I nominate Victor. And I vote for him, too."

  Colin said, "I vote for me. Two to one."

  Victor said, "I have not voted yet. It is one to one."

  Vanity looked at me. She said, "What do we do, Amelia?"

  That really surprised me. I suppose Vanity still thought of me as the wise older sister, the person to turn to when the boys were fighting. And although no one had raised a voice, or raised a fist, this was a fight, a fight to the death, really. Colin was challenging Victor's supremacy as the king stallion of the herd.

  And it was my fault. It was all my fault. I was the one they were really fighting over.

  And the fact that Echidna was here was my fault, too. If I had not taken the wedding dress, she would not be here. It had been hanging on a branch, and I had paused to take it and put it on. My four friends would not be doomed.

  Because if Colin fought her, he would die. The voice from Quentin's mirror, the Duke of Hell, had said so. If any of the four of us approached her, either singly or as a group, we would die. The voice said so.

  But there were five of us.

  Let her return what she has stolen, and she may yet return a—

  A what? Return a book to the library archive? Return around five? Return all roasted like a pig, apple in her mouth, spiced with garlic and chive?

  Alive.

  I said, "Alive."

  Vanity said, "Amelia…"

  "Rhymes with five. Alive."

  Victor said, "If you would please pay attention to our present political crises, Amelia, we…"

  "Me," I said, "I am the one he was talking about…"

  Vanity said, "I second the nomination and cast my vote for Amelia."

  I blinked. "What? I wasn't nominating myself for leader—"

  Victor said, "I also vote for Amelia." He laughed and looked quite relaxed.

  I said, "Wait a minute—"

  Victor said, "The leader has ordered us to wait a minute. Everyone please wait."

  I said, "How am I leader? Not everyone voted."

  Victor said, "If you vote for Colin or for me, that will tie it up one to two to two. But since you nominated yourself, the vote tally now stands at three to one to one, doesn't it?"

  The deck shivered underfoot. In the distance, we heard the scream of metal as some huge amount of deck plate was ripped up from its moorings.

  Quentin raised his hand to his brow, and gave me a snappy salute. "I change my vote. She knows what we have to do. I see it in her face. Four to one."

  Colin raised his hand and gave me a stiff-armed Nazi salute. "Who am I to stand in the way of progress?

  Five to naught. Hail, Dark Mistress! I yearn for your whip! What are your orders? Do we fight or do we flee?"

  More snapping of metal overhead. Echidna was tearing the hatches open.

  I said, "Neither. You flee. The four of you. Colin, turn into something. I have to go face Echidna alone…"

  Colin blenched. "Fuck, no! You cannot just sacrifice yourself to—"

  "Quiet! No back-talk! No debate! Everyone in the crawlspace! Snappy! Double-time! Go, go, go!"

  I ran into the other room and shoved aside boxes. There it was. I lifted the lid to make certain I had the right box. Soft fabric lighter than smoke, with glints of pearl and shivering dew drops, shone back at me: the wedding dress.

  1.

  Vanity's crawlway led only a dozen feet. There was a set of grilles through which rain was blowing, and a cylindrical housing for some sort of pump or turbine. Unfortunately, the metal cylinder of the turbine occupied all but the merest sliver of the crawlway, and was between us and the grilles which opened out onto the deck.

  Colin was in front, and I was in the rear, behind Victor. Vanity and Quentin were in the middle. We heard Colin
grunting and straining for a moment or two.

  Vanity called to him (shouting over the storm noise), "Use your powers on it!"

  He shouted back, "Inspire me!"

  Vanity shouted, "Amelia and I will do another striptease act for you if you get that vent off!"

  "Ho ho. That would be nice, if I believed you," said Colin.

  Well, on the one hand, I did not want to be embarrassed. I should say, I did not want to be crucified with embarrassment. On the other hand, being stuck in an air-shaft on a ship about to be pulled underwater by the eldest mother of all monsters who ever preyed on humanity was not such a great option either.

  I wished I could have just whispered this in his ear.

  I said to Victor, 'Tell Vanity to tell Colin that I promised him anything."

  Victor, over the storm noise, said back, "I beg your pardon?"

  "Pass the message forward. The promise I made to Colin. Anything. I said, I'll do anything."

  Victor spoke to Quentin; Quentin spoke to Vanity. I heard the murmurs of their voices up ahead.

  Vanity shouted back to me: "He doesn't believe me! You have to tell him yourself!"

  Oh, God. I put my head down on the cool metal surface on which I was kneeling. Was I going to have to say this in front of all my friends? In front of Victor? Oh please, no.

  I waited a moment for some miracle to occur, to spare me from this humiliation. But Providence was obviously busy somewhere else today, or maybe this was one of the things that is supposed to build character.

  I shouted, "I said I'll do anything you want, Colin!"

  He shouted back, "Anything, anything?"

  I shouted, "Yes!"

  He shouted back, "Just so we are clear on this, we are talking about sexual favors, are we not?"

  I was really not sure what kind of character this was supposed to be building.

  "Yes!" I shouted back.

  "Yes, what?" he shouted in return.

  "Yes, we are talking about sexual favors! I want you to cover me with hot fudge and lick it off!"

  2.

  There was a noise like the end of the world. Over the shoulders of everyone else in the way, I saw the huge engine-cylinder get crushed like an empty tin can, and smashed out through the broken grilles. Part of the wall had been exploded outward, also.

  Colin called happily over the noise of the storm, "Well! I guess I am feeling kind of inspired tonight!"

  Soon we were all on deck, being lashed and drenched by the storm. I could not face any of them. I kept my head turned to the wall, and I clutched the box containing the wedding dress to my chest with both hands.

  Someone put a hand on my shoulder. I thought it might be Victor, and the thought that Victor would understand, and would come to comfort me, was comforting.

  But Colin's voice came into my ear, "Hey, uh— Amelia. We were just kidding around, okay? I mean—

  don't be mad at me—okay?"

  I shrugged his hand off. It was not Victor. Victor no doubt made his judgment based on the words he heard coming out of my mouth; and no doubt it was a harsh judgment. Not that I blamed him.

  I said, "Go to the stern. Change shape. Save the others. Try to get back over the boundary, the ward.

  No talking. Go."

  The hand was removed from my shoulder. In the midst of the storm noise, I heard no sound of footsteps, no final words, well-wishing, or good-byes. Maybe there were none. Maybe they expected me to live through this.

  3.

  The winds buffeted me as I moved forward. When I came to the main deck, I took shelter underneath an overhang of the deck above. Originally, there had been deck chairs and cafe tables here. Now the space was empty, and metal grates had been pulled down across the windows.

  You might wonder where I found the strength, the courage, to go forward. Any reasonable person would have run away.

  But I was upset about Colin and Victor.

  Upset? Upset is not the word. I was choking on tears.

  My life had been ruined, and there was nothing I could do about it. It wasn't bravery. I wasn't sure I had a life worth worrying over. Maybe that is what saved me.

  But I was crying, and sobs made it hard for me to breathe, and my eyes felt raw.

  I sat in the rain-shadow of the deck for a time, weeping. I hope it was a short time.

  When I looked up, I saw that there were lights shining from upper windows, but the ship seemed strangely silent. I could not hear the alarms or klaxons. Had they been shut off? Or was the wind merely drowning all noise? ,

  Lightning flashed. I saw that part of the deck before me, the beautiful deck with the handsome appointments and polished rails, had been driven in, and the bulkhead smashed inward as if a freight train had plowed through the steel and glass.

  I picked my way across scattered rubbish and litter. Metal fragments screeched and hissed as they were pushed along the deck surface by the winds, scraping.

  There was light to my left. Three decks of balcony and bulkhead were crumpled and staved-in as if a tree had fallen on them. It would have had to have been a redwood tree, I suppose, and made of iron.

  Perhaps dropped from orbit. Never mind the tree; it looked like a bomb had gone off.

  The covered pool was now open to the sky for at least half its length. I walked forward, and was standing on tiles. Not long ago, this had been indoors. There were lights burning on the balconies to the left; those on the right had been extinguished. The balconies, deck upon deck of them, were cracked and leaning, and tables and chairs had been flung each way like leaves in a hurricane. There were metal shards and crumpled wreckage to my left, where tons of steel had fallen as the roof and upper deck had collapsed. To my right was the deep end of the pool. The diving board was still intact. There were tables undisturbed and pretty, sitting beyond, and doorways and storefronts of certain shops built along that deck. It all seemed so normal, that little corner. The shallow end of the pool was beaten to froth by the rain. The deep end was tranquil.

  I saw headless corpses floating in the water. One of them wore a white jacket. Was it Miguel? Another had a green-and-gold jacket I had last seen on Klaus, the man who had wanted to take a Jacuzzi bath with me.

  I heard a slithering sound behind me. Glass and metal snapped and groaned.

  I turned.

  4.

  Fathom upon fathom and yard upon yard of snaky folds were draped across the deck. Some sort of phosphorescent crusts or barnacles were clinging here and there in scattered scales along her belly. Her scales were gray and green, but with spots and dapples of rich purple, vermilion, poisonous yellow, blood-red. Every few yards along the coils of bunched muscle, translucent flukes of singular delicacy waved like the fans of an angelfish.

  Up from the mass of knotting and unknotting coils rose two swaying columns of scaly flesh. One was her tail, which was fluked like an eel, and bore an enormous swollen sting, lolling like the sting of a scorpion, and the stinger was going in and out, wet with shivering venom. The other blended into her curving hips, narrowed to a sudden waist, above which was an ample bosom, delicate shoulders, graceful arms with slim fingers. She had them over her head at the moment, like a ballerina caught in mid-gesture.

  Atop a slender neck was a girlish face, but of a classical beauty: a firm chin, perfect cupid's-bow lips, a straight nose, deep and large eyes beneath level brows. Her hair hung in dark ringlets across her shoulders and down her back, curled like ivy vines, but black as nighty and shining with water. Imagine the Statue of Liberty if she were younger. Her eyes were turned upward at the moment. I don't know what she was looking at.

  Between her naked breasts, on a necklace that glinted with mingled silver fire and starlight, hung a green stone, a tear of polished marble. It was not the twin of Vanity's necklace, but it was at least a cousin, the work of the same craftsman.

  There was darkness overhead, and she stood framed in a great panel of wreckage where she had pulled loose the bulkhead and several balconies. Rain fe
ll all around her.

  I do not know how she was able to shrink from something twice the size of an ocean liner to something merely twenty yards long. But it should have occurred to me before this that she could change, or ignore, her mass and length and dimension. After all, the dress I was carrying in my arms fit a girl my size.

  She caressed one arm with the other, in a gesture that at first seemed very odd. But then I recognized it. I did it in the shower. She was washing.

  She rubbed her hands together, and then, sliding forward in a tremendous rush and rustle of scales, knots of coil opening and folds unfolding, she bowed her head a bit, and dipped her hands into the water of the indoor pool. She shook pink stains off from her delicate fingers. Her profile seemed so serene, so pretty.

  Echidna was washing blood off her hands.

  It was only then she seemed to notice me. Her head was no higher than mine off the ground at the moment, for her snaky body had dipped to let her touch the pool water. She turned her classic profile, and I looked into her eyes. It was like looking into the eyes of a glacier. Her face was drawn and pallid with anger and grief. Her lips were drawn and bloodless.

  Her face was so cold. So pretty, and so very stiff and cold. Imagine a fury and a sorrow too deep to leave any trace of expression.

  I didn't know what to say. I didn't say anything.

  She stared at me, frozen in surprise, a lioness seeing a bunny sitting fat before her, not running.

  I opened the box and shook out the dress. The fairy garment shone and shimmered like smoke.

  I held it out.

  Echidna stared at the dress, and her eyebrows drew together. A slightest wrinkle of frown creased her ivory brow. There was no other change of expression.

  I took one step forward, then another. I held the dress up.

  She cocked her head to one side, perhaps puzzled, or perhaps feeling a greater anger beginning to build.

  She did not reach for the dress. With one white finger, she reached toward my face. I closed my eyes when she touched me. I don't know what I expected. I expected pain. I expected her to poke an eye out.

  She caressed my cheek very gently with a fingertip. I opened my eyes. She lifted a drop of water from my cheek with a fingertip, brought the finger to her lip, and kissed it No, she did not kiss her finger. She was tasting the drop from my face.