by Jake Bible
Once at the edge of the waterfall, I reveled in the cool mist that coated my puckered skin. It was soothing, but didn’t fully relieve the discomfort of all those ant bites. I waited for the waterfall to reach out and grab me like it did in my vision. I waited some more. I waited for a while.
“What is the problem, bull man?” the aspen asked. “Have you been rejected by the waterfall?”
“Loser!” the holly yelled. The loser chorus started up.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” I said more to myself than to the idiot trees.
I reached a hoof out and let the waterfall crash down around it. Nothing snaked out to get me. Nothing threw me from my spot into the churning waters below. Huh…
“Joe,” a voice whispered. “Joe.”
I looked around, but didn’t see anyone. It wasn’t the trees talking because they were too busy calling me a loser. I could hear them plain as day.
“Joe, have faith,” the voice said, and I realized it was coming from inside my head. “Have faith, Joe. That is how you will continue on your quest.”
“Finish my quest, you mean,” I responded. “This is the last part, right?”
The voice in my head turned to laughter in my head.
“Your quest has barely begun,” the voice said. “Have faith and you will truly begin the trials. Seven await you. Seven await Joe Laribeau, Salvage Merc One.”
“And Minotaur,” I said. “Don’t forget I have that distinction now.”
“Have faith, Joe,” the voice replied. It faded off with a cheesy echo, and I sighed.
“Yeah, yeah, have faith,” I said. “What the fo does that mean?”
“Jump dude,” a voice responded from right next to me.
“Whoa!” I said and jumped back a little. “Hello?”
“Have faith means to jump,” the waterfall said, its voice mellow and laid back. “Get it? A leap of faith? Jump, dude. It’s all good.”
“Jump? Down there?” I said and moved to look at the pool below me. “Yeah, I guess that works too. I thought you’d grab me and toss me down there, but jumping achieves the same result.”
“Grab you and toss you down?” the waterfall chuckled. “Dude, what the fo have you been smoking? I’m a waterfall, man. I can’t grab people, even bull people, and toss them anywhere. Dude, I’m like totally made of water. What the fo made you think I could grab you?”
“It was in my vision,” I replied.
“Duuuuuuude, visions aren’t literal,” the waterfall said. “They’re spiritual metaphors for what the soul has to accomplish to get to the next level or plane or whatever it is you’re getting to. You gotta do the work yourself, dude. Ain’t no one gonna do it for you, you know what I’m saying?”
“Yeah, I know what you’re saying,” I replied and took a deep breath. I held a hoof out over the edge, letting it hover in open air. “Well, thanks, dude. I’ll catch you later.”
“Not if I don’t catch you first! Later, dude!” the waterfall called after me as I took the next step and jumped from the ledge and into the pool below.
Fifteen
I hit the water hard enough that all the air from my lungs was expelled before I had even sunk a meter below the surface. The weight and power of the waterfall shoved me down to the sharp rocks that made up the pool’s contours. I slammed into them, and the little relief that the water afforded my ant bitten skin was lost as the rocks sliced and diced me to ribbons.
Literally, ribbons.
My hide hung from my body like a shredded uniform. Blood filled the pool, and the water around me went from crystal clear to murky red in seconds. I tried to swim away from the rocks, but I couldn’t. Hooves aren’t made for swimming the way I needed to swim, and the pressure from the waterfall kept me tumbling head over hooves again and again. Every time I thought I could get away, the current shoved me back into the rocks, and the pain and agony started all over.
I was stuck where I was. No chance of going anywhere at all, let alone up to the surface to get some seriously needed air. Which was becoming a major problem.
My body hurt, my lungs burned, and my head was quickly becoming a fuzzy cloud of semi-consciousness. Something would have to give, or I was going to die.
It was my lungs. My lungs gave.
I didn’t want it to happen, but my mouth finally opened wide as the ancient instinct to breathe overrode my personal desire to keep my bull mouth shut. Water rushed into my lungs, filling my chest to capacity. There was pain at first, but then a warm feeling of fullness. I gasped a couple of times, little bubbles escaping from between my lips, then all went calm.
My sight blurred and began to darken. But not before the last part of my vision came true. Well, sort of. Instead of a mouth filled with teeth rushing up at me from the dark depths of the pool, I saw something else. Something familiar. Something that had a snake and a lady shape at the same time.
Naked Snake Lady.
“Hello, Joe,” she said as she swam towards me. “Welcome.”
Yeah, then her mouth opened wide, and there were the teeth. A lot of teeth. She swallowed me up like I was a minnow. Gulp and done.
The world went black, and I thought that was that.
But just like when my vision was over, I woke up not in a pool of water, but on a cold floor. I rolled over and vomited my guts out. I coughed half a pool of water from my lungs. There was a weight on my back, helping me with the process, and I was too grateful to worry about where the weight was coming from. Time enough to deal with that later when I wasn’t filled with waterfall.
“Joe? Are you alright?” a voice asked as I rolled onto my back, exhausted, but alive. “Joe?”
“Good to go,” I said and gave a thumbs up.
An actual thumbs up. Not a hoof up, but a thumbs up. I had hands again.
“Hey there thumb,” I said. “It is good to see you.” I raised my other hand and looked at that one. “You too, other thumb. Welcome back, boys.”
I let my hands fall to my sides and I lay there, a wet wheezing coming from my chest.
“Sit up,” the voice said. “It’ll be easier to breathe.”
“Thanks,” I said as I was helped into a sitting position. I wobbled a little, was steadied by small, but strong hands, and tried to take a deep breath. I failed and coughed my ass off, the small hands whacking me in the back. “Thanks, thanks. I’m good. Thanks.”
I took smaller breaths and felt the oxygen flowing to my brain. The world around me began to clear, and I instantly knew where I was. And whom I was with.
“Hello,” I said to Alya Horne. Not the Naked Snake Lady, but the human Alya Horne.
Her face was still tan, but not as much as in the vid I’d seen of her in the Bosses’ room. Her hair was a wild, bushy tangle of black curls. It looked like she hadn’t brushed it in a very long time. She smiled at me, but it was a lonely smile, haunted and lost. It was nice of her to make the effort, though.
“Hello, Joe,” she said to me. “Thank you for coming. I have been alone for so long.”
“Yeah, sure, no problem,” I replied. “Can you help me up?”
“Are you certain?” Alya asked. “You may want to rest a little longer.”
“Do we have time for me to rest?” I asked as I looked around at my surroundings. “Pretty sure I need to get a move on and finish this foing quest.”
She started to protest, but nodded instead and helped me to my feet. My naked feet. I looked down and realized I was completely naked.
“Uh…” I muttered.
“Let me fetch you something,” Alya said and hurried to a pile of clothing off by the side of the massive iron door.
Yep, that’s where I was. Back at the massive iron door.
Alya pulled loose a pair of trousers, a tunic, and some boots from a pile of discarded clothing. She also found a heavy sword and a rusted, pitted, but sturdy-looking, shield. Turned out the pile wasn’t just clothes. It was also weapons. And bones. Lots of bones. So very many bones.
<
br /> “Is this a real place?” I asked. “Or am I still tripping?”
“This is a real place, believe me,” Alya said as she handed me the clothes. “I should know. I’ve been here a very long time.”
“You were supposed to be a Boss,” I said, yanking the tunic down over my head.
It was scratchy and a little tight in the armpits, but it worked. It also smelled like death, but so did pretty much everything on the stupid quest, so I didn’t complain.
“I was supposed to be a Boss,” Alya agreed. “But that didn’t work out.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Honestly? I don’t know,” she replied.
“Terpigcrud,” I said. “I don’t even know you, and I can tell you’re lying.”
“Yes, you do not know me,” she replied. “So do not assume that I am lying.”
“Half-truth then?” I asked. “You have an idea of why you didn’t transcend into a Boss, don’t you.”
“I have an idea,” Alya said. “It may have to do with my gift. You do know that Salvage Merc Ones all have gifts, yes?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Yours is clarity? Is that it?” she asked.
“That’s it,” I said. “Not sure how you can know that since you’re stuck here.” I held out my arms to take in the huge space. “Wherever here is.”
“This is the beginning of the labyrinth,” she said. “The real labyrinth, the real beginning.”
“So everything I just went through was what? A preamble?” I snapped. I frowned in apology. “Sorry, sorry, still some of the angry bull in me.”
“No, you have every right to be angry,” Alya said. “I was angry for so long that I had to wait almost as long to remember why. It’s no way to live, I tell you.”
“Why aren’t you Naked Snake Lady?” I blurted. It just came out. Wasn’t planning on saying it, but oh well.
“I am,” she said sadly. “But the artifact is allowing you to see me as who I was and not who I currently am.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, not understanding any of it. But, hey, when in the labyrinth…
“The artifact is a tricky little piece of crud,” Alya said. “It lied to me and left me here.”
“Because of your gift?” I asked.
“Yes, because of that,” she said. “You see, Joe, I couldn’t be forgotten. Not like the other Salvage Merc Ones. People could see me, remember me, talk to me like I was a person. Their memories weren’t wiped clean when they turned and walked away.”
“The artifact didn’t like that? Why?” I asked.
“No, not the artifact,” Alya scoffed. “The other Bosses. I was supposed to be Boss Four, but the other three didn’t like how my gift changed the game. They hadn’t been allowed to be remembered so why should I? Or why should other Salvage Merc Ones to come? That was what would have happened if I’d become a Boss. You know how it is. The next in line for the job takes on aspects of the previous Salvage Merc Ones’ gifts.”
“That would have meant every Salvage Merc One after you would be able to be a part of the SMC just like a normal number,” I said. “Or close to it.”
“Or close to it,” Alya agreed. “Too close to it for the Bosses’ comfort, apparently.”
“But why is that a bad thing?” I asked.
“Power, Joe,” Alya said. “It’s always been about power. For Salvage Merc One to stop being legend and become real, it would undermine the Bosses control on the SMC. They couldn’t let that happen.”
“I don’t get it,” I said. “So what? They’d still be the Bosses.”
“Do you know what it’s like to be dead, Joe?” she asked.
“Kind of,” I said. “Been pretty foing close.”
“Yes, you have,” Alya said. “But not all the way. It’s not fun, Joe. It’s like leaving a party just as it’s gotten good, and all you can do is stand outside and stare in through a window. You can hear the music, hear the conversation, some people look out and wave at you, some open the window and talk to you, but you can never go back inside and be part of the party again. Never.”
“You’re not exactly selling the next phase of my gig,” I said. “One day, I’ll be on the outside looking in.”
“Yes, you will,” Alya said. She turned and gestured towards the long, pitch-black corridor that lay behind us. “But if you complete the trials, navigate the labyrinth successfully, maybe you won’t be left outside. Maybe you can be invited back into the party. Or maybe, just maybe, you don’t ever have to leave the party at all.”
“What? I complete the trials and become immortal?” I asked.
“You already are, Joe,” Alya said. “The artifact sees to that. But you may be able to decide the terms of your immortality.”
“Are you foing with me?” I asked. “Is this the first part of the trials? Mess with my head and get my hopes up?”
I took a couple of steps back from her.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” I continued. “You’re going to get me all happy and thinking I have a chance at something great then you’ll turn back into Naked Snake Lady and scare the crud out of me. Right? Thanks, but no thanks. I can do without the plot twist.”
“No, Joe, I’m not going to do any of that,” Alya said. “I don’t have that kind of control. This is all set up by the artifact. It’s been waiting for you. The last Salvage Merc One was almost right, but almost doesn’t work for the artifact. It needs perfection.”
“So it’s looking at me for perfection?” I laughed and tapped my chest. “Hello in there! You’re in the wrong body if you want perfection!”
“Not absolute perfection,” Alya said. “But artifact perfection. It believes you are the host that will take it to its next level, let it transcend its current form and move on. We all have our quests and trials, Joe, even the artifact.”
“Super,” I said. “So instead of some omnipotent thingy, I get the middle management thingy looking for its own promotion. Yay.”
“You drive the Bosses crazy, don’t you?” Alya smiled. “Eight Million Gods, I hope so.”
“I drive everyone crazy,” I said and shrugged. “It’s not my special gift, but pretty damn close.”
Alya’s smile faded. “Shall we get started?”
“We? Are you coming with?” I asked.
“Of course,” Alya said. “Every hero needs a guide through the labyrinth.”
“What do you get out of it?” I asked. “Or is the artifact forcing you to help me?”
“No, the artifact is not forcing me to do anything,” she said. “In fact, quite the opposite. But, to answer your question, what I get out of this is freedom. If I help guide you through the labyrinth, and back out again, then you must promise to free me from here and take me back to SMC headquarters.”
“Oh, that’s really gonna drive the Bosses crazy,” I said. “So, yeah, I totally promise.”
“Good,” Alya said and started walking towards the dark corridor. “Then follow me.”
I swung the sword a couple times and hefted the shield. “Any chance I can get a plasma pistol and battle armor?”
“What do you think?” Alya responded.
“Yeah, probably not,” I said. “Knife and cutting board will have to do.”
“Yes, they will,” Alya said. “Come on. We don’t have much time. You took too long getting here so now we’re on the clock.”
“No pressure then,” I said and followed her into the blackness of the corridor that sat opposite the huge iron door.
Sixteen
It was a poker table. A poker table with dogs sitting around it.
“Seriously?” I grumbled as the blackness of the corridor solidified into a smoky den that stank of old cigars and cheap beer. Really cheap beer. I nodded at my sword and shield. “It’s not bad enough that I have these, but now I don’t even get to use them? What? I have to play poker with a bunch of dogs?”
The game stopped, and furry-browed eyes all turned to stare at me.
“Not lik
ely, jackass,” one of the dogs, a beefy bloodhound, replied. “Do you see any humans playing at this table?”
“Well, no,” I said. “I don’t.”
“That’s because humans are awful at poker,” the dog said. “You give everything away with your body language. You’re too easy to read.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said.
“Come on,” Alya said. “This is why you need a guide. You’ll get sidetracked too easily.”
She took my elbow and steered me past the poker table, and the glaring dogs, to a door I hadn’t even noticed. It was made from the same paneling as the wall, and was set flush with it as well, so it was pretty much hidden unless you were specifically looking for it. Alya pointed at the doorknob.
“I can’t open it,” she said. “You have to.”
“Not a problem,” I said, tucked my shield under my arm and grabbed the knob. I twisted, but nothing happened. “Okay, maybe there is a problem.”
“Is it locked?” Alya asked, looking puzzled. “It shouldn’t be locked.”
“No, it’s not locked,” I said. Twisting the knob again. “It turns just fine. The problem is the door won’t open.”
I twisted and pulled, twisted and pushed, twisted and shoved to the side in case it was some strange pocket door. Nothing.
“I swear, if this trial is supposed to be how to open a foing door, I’m going to be really pissed off,” I said.
The loud and low growling from behind us told me that the door wasn’t my biggest problem. I slowly turned around, fetching my shield from out from under my arm. My sword was held out at a forty-five-degree angle, the rusty steel reflecting the dim, green light that hung over the poker table.
Eight dogs were coming toward us, walking upright, each holding a different weapon. One held a broken beer bottle, another a jagged-ended chair leg. Two held what looked like blackjacks, thick hunks of material that were wrapped and filled with probably heavy steel bearings or lead weights. They were old fashioned, but they did the trick when needed. The four behind those held knives of various lengths and sizes.
“Sheezus, it looks like we’re gonna have a rumble,” I said.
