by S T Branton
"You're looking a little cleaner this morning," she commented. "I mean, not clean, but cleaner."
“Hey, I took my first shower in ten years. That should count for something,” I told her.
“Ten years, huh? That has to tell you something about that guy in the bar last night,” she said.
“Right?” I agreed. “I've been thinking about that. He was all sorts of into me, and that has to be some sort of insight into him. Either he was at a whole new level of desperation I have yet to experience, or I pull off prison sexy really well. I'm leaning toward the new level of desperation.”
Ally laughed and started the car.
“Are you ready for our adventure?”
“Champing at the bit. What do you think our first step should be?”
“Don't you worry about it, Slick. I have a plan.”
Hearing her call me by my old nickname warmed my heart and took away some of the uncertainty I felt about including her in this epic mess I'd gotten myself into. She might still be in far more danger than I liked to think about, but I'd been through enough training for the both of us, and Ally was feisty. I was fairly certain all that spicy food she constantly talked about her mother eating when she was pregnant with Ally went straight to her personality.
“Great. So, we'll go pick up some weapons and then I was thinking we should try to get more information...” I started, but the way Ally was shaking her head told me my plan and hers weren't meshing.
“I told you I have a plan.”
“And it doesn't involve getting weapons to defend us against the scary magical dudes trying to wipe our hometown out of existence?”
“Not exactly. That's like step three of today's agenda. Step two is visiting the thrift store,” she told me.
"Why is that before arming ourselves? Don't you think weaponry is important?"
"Yes, I think weaponry is extremely important," she confirmed. "But we'll start with the basics. You've already admitted you won’t be able to stop the bad guys if the magical cops catch you first, which means you have to avoid being caught, which means you have to blend in. This look you have going on with the rags and the bloody jacket... it's not exactly inconspicuous."
I pulled the lapels of the jacket closer around me, feeling defensive of my pilfered finery.
"It's what I had available," I told her.
"Yes, but that's not the case anymore. We're going to get you some normal people-looking clothes. But like I said, that's step two," she said slyly.
"What's step one?" I asked nervously.
"Tacos!"
Oh, joy and rapture, happy days are here again.
"Floor it!" I commanded.
Ally wove through the town with a little more lead in her foot than the local police would probably enjoy, but none sprung out of the side streets at us, so the time saved was worth it. We pulled along a curb, and she parked. I didn't know where she was leading me, and my eyes widened when we turned a corner and a parking lot spread in front of me. There were food trucks as far as the eye could see.
"What is this?" I asked in an awed whisper.
"This is a Food Truck Rodeo."
I gasped.
"A whole rodeo of food trucks?"
"Yep. Food trucks are a big thing now. I got very familiar with gatherings like this while traveling around searching for you over the years. I told you I never believed you were gone, that I knew you had to be somewhere. While I went from place to place, the Food Truck Rodeos lured me in. They reminded me so much of you. Roaming around them always made me feel closer to you."
I was still dumbstruck by the majesty of it all.
"It’s food trucks everywhere. Ten years in the future is awesome. Where are the tacos?"
We started around the large outer ring of food trucks, then circled the center cluster. By the time we got to the end, I was no longer as happy.
"I'm sorry, Slick," she said.
"What kind of self-respecting rodeo lacks tacos?" I asked.
"I'm sorry," Ally repeated. "I was sure there would be a taco truck. There are always taco trucks."
"First the bar, then the food trucks. The world doesn't want me to have tacos," I lamented. "I went to a prison no human had ever been to, survived, and escaped although no one had ever escaped. I deserve the reward of a taco."
"Yes, you do," Ally comforted me. "You absolutely deserve the reward of a taco. And we'll keep looking. But for now, be strong. Pick something else."
I looked around at the disappointing non-taco food trucks and one finally caught my eye. The man in the tiny window was shocked when I ordered three cheeseburgers and even more so when I asked for bacon and extra mayonnaise. Our eyes stayed locked firmly on one another, a standoff at the Cheeseburger Corral as he slid the burger-filled basket toward me. He barked a price at me and Ally looked at me expectantly. I shrugged.
"Sorry, left all my cards in The Deep," I said.
The man looked at us strangely, but Ally stepped up to the window.
"It's fine," she said. "I have it."
I found a spot sitting on a curb and dove into my burgers. Ally went off to get herself something to eat and by the time she got back with her pulled pork, I was already most of the way through the second burger.
"This is ridiculously good," I said through a mouthful of bacon and cheese.
"I'm glad you're enjoying it." She settled down beside me to start eating. “Do I even want to know what you ate in The Deep?”
“Hell, no.”
An hour later, we'd finished at the rodeo and I was being held hostage in the changing room of the thrift store. Ally stood outside, shouting to hurry up, but nothing hanging from what looked like thirty hangers she had brought in appealed to me.
"Did we have to come to a thrift store?" I asked. "All these clothes look like they've been sitting here for decades."
"They haven't," Ally insisted. "I noticed tags still on a couple of those things. That's why I brought you to this one."
"Because it frequently carries the never-worn clothing of people who are now retired or dead?" I asked.
She groaned, and I envisioned her rolling her eyes.
"No, because it's a hidden gem I discovered on my many excursions this way. There's a rich neighborhood not too far from here and a lot of them buy clothes, never wear them, get tired of them, and bring them here," she explained.
"So, you're telling me these are contemporary fashions?" I asked suspiciously.
"Yes," she confirmed.
"This half looks like I should be hitchhiking to Woodstock and this half looks like I should be doing cocaine with a hair metal band."
"Both valid descriptions of contemporary trends.”
"Well, I'll be damned." I chose an awkward macramé dress. "I was gone so long the world whipped back around until before I was born."
"It happens. Now put something on and let me see."
I wriggled into the dress and stepped out of the dressing room. The immediate burst of laughter that made Ally bend over at the waist was not the most encouraging moment of my day.
"I don't know if 'olive green old woman door hanger' is really the look for me." I swept my hands up and down my sides to display the dress to her.
"That's amazing," she said, still laughing. "I was really hoping that was the first thing you’d put on."
"You did this as a joke and it was mean and I missed you so much. Don't ever leave me again."
"Me leave you?" Ally protested. "Let's try to remember who got siphoned out of reality, here."
"All right. We'll call it equal blame." I stepped back into the dressing room.
"I am not taking partial responsibility for you confessing to crimes you knew nothing about and being thrown in a prison in a different dimension."
"Already in the dressing room. All decisions pre-dressing room are final," I insisted.
She laughed, and I put on another of the outfits, casting the dress into the corner of shame.
"That on
e looks better," Ally told me when I stepped out.
"You know what?" I said as I tried on my third outfit.
"What's that?" she asked.
"I'm having fun. Actual fun, not like the time two other inmates and I were punished by having to clean out the bone pit because it got too full and I tried to teach one of them how to play pick up sticks with all the femurs."
"I'll skip my initial reaction and go straight to 'awwwwwwww.' It's good to hear that. You have a lot of time to make up for and I'll make sure you have plenty of fun doing it."
"Thank you."
An hour later, my love of shopping was resurfacing. It was like cabinets in my brain were opening and little bits of myself that I’d shoved away were coming back out. I wanted to stay in this shop forever, trying on clothes and laughing with my best friend, but I couldn't. Dressed in tight black jeans, a black tank that went perfectly with my jacket, and combat boots, I felt adequately badass as we walked out of the shop.
There was work to do.
Chapter Nineteen
"Ugh," Ally said. "I really wish we didn't have to return to the backdrop for all my future nightmares."
We were creeping down the narrow street toward the warehouse from the night before. I'd made her park a block away so we didn't attract attention, but the futility of that concept was making itself known as we alternately walked, jogged, crouch-scurried, and slunk along the wall of the nearest building. When we reached the large open area between that building and the warehouse, we ran, throwing ourselves inside as fast as we could.
There was no real way of knowing if there were Guild members watching us as we zipped across in full view. Unfortunately, they weren't like rattlesnakes. There was no warning noise before they struck unless they wanted you to be afraid before it happened.
"This is the scene of the crime, Ally. Or at least the scene of planning the crime. This is where we'll find all the information if there's anything available," I told her.
"But they know they got caught," she pointed out. "I don't think the Harbingers will forget that fight last night anytime soon. If what they're doing is so secret, don't you think they would have moved by now?"
I shook my head as we moved down the hallway toward the main open area of the warehouse.
"I’m sure they did. But this isn’t some tiny operation. According to what Solon told me, and Burne’s ramblings underscored, Hobbes’ cult is complex and constantly doing something. There are too many moving parts for them to disappear without leaving some of those parts behind.”
We reached the spot where I'd battled the Harbingers the night before and surveyed the aftermath. It wasn’t as bad as I was anticipating.
"It looks like nothing ever happened here," Ally noted. "Are you sure we're in the right place?"
"We're in the right place. They sent a team to sweep up. Hobbes and that lot don't like to be beaten. They'll try to conveniently gloss over anything that might make it look like they aren't absolutely dominant.”
“How much do you really know about this Hobbes guy and his followers?”
“Honestly? Not a ton. Solon was able to tell me the basics of what he gleaned from the other prisoners, but he’d been excommunicated for being a traitor and been in The Deep way longer than I was. It limited his access to up-to-date information. We’re in kind of a learn-as-we-go situation here. But this is definitely the place. Look at that."
She followed my finger to where I pointed at deep grooves in the floor.
"What are those?"
"Satyr scratches," I told her. "Nature spirits. You know that whole phrase 'hung like a horse'? Well, the satyr is. He just happens to have the ears and legs to match. But the rest of him is a guy, so it balances out."
"Perfect," Ally sighed while following me deeper into the space.
My feet scraped against something on the ground, and I picked it up.
"They didn't do as good a job cleaning as they should have. See this?" The pebble in my hand was tiny, but I knew exactly what it was. The fact that it was on the ground was probably totally on me. "This is golem dandruff. Likely knocked right off our buddy's head last night."
"That's charming. Have you seen many of those?"
"Golems? No. There was one in The Deep when I’d only been there for a short time, but I never really interacted with him. But Solon taught me everything I needed to know about fighting them."
"I'm sure he would have been proud of you last night," she murmured
I laughed. “He would have boxed my ears for taking a risk like that. But he probably would have done the same thing.”
We continued, and I drew a breath, cringing at the stench that hit me.
"Yep, we're definitely in the right place. I know the smell of goblin anywhere."
Ally took an experimental sniff and her eyes squeezed closed in reaction.
"You know, I've never really thought about what a goblin would smell like, but now that I've gotten a lung full of that, I can attest that is exactly what I imagine it would be."
"Yeah, you think this is bad? This is after one has been out of the space for probably hours. Imagine what it would be like stuffed in a tiny room with a couple of them for days."
"That is not something I'll add to my visualization board anytime soon."
"I don't blame you. It's pretty well etched into my brain and I'd really enjoy attaching a sanitizing wipe to a pipe cleaner and scrubbing it clean via my nostril.”
"Your nostrils have probably been through enough," she commented. "Let them live."
"I'm sure they appreciate your advocacy."
"Okay, so help me get a few things straight," she started.
"Lay it on me.”
"Ogres and trolls are not the same thing."
"They’re not the same thing."
"But they’re real?"
"They’re both real," I confirmed.
"And goblins aren't the same thing as either of those?"
"Right."
"And not the same as a demon," she continued.
"Right," I repeated.
"But also real?"
"Also very real," I concluded.
"Just keeping it all straight. Do you think there's, like, an FSL class? Far as a Second Language?"
"There should be. Maybe we can start a distance learning program for that once we get through this.”
"Look at us planning out our futures. Saving cities. Escaping Philosopher posses. Having fun. Eating tacos. Teaching the children. We're good people, Slick."
"I always knew it, Alejandra."
The moment would have best been sealed with an 80s-style movie montage of running through the warehouse and accomplishing all our life goals before leaping into the air for a freeze-frame high five. But before we could do any of that, movement caught my attention. It was exactly like the night before, and I braced myself for the onslaught of Harbingers who would now be prepared for my arrival and ready to smear me across the floor, then top the me-smear with accents of Ally.
My body tensed and I touched Ally's arm to warn her to get ready. We crouched slightly and crept toward where I'd seen the movement. It darted deeper into the shadows while slinking along the wall. I shouldn't have chased it. I shouldn't have pursued the unidentified mass shifting through the darkness.
But I did. I needed answers.
I took off toward whatever it was, and Ally hissed from behind me. I'm sure there were words in the sound, but I didn't hear any of them. She reluctantly chased after me.
"Rethinking your decision to help me, yet?" I asked when she caught up with me.
She shook her head adamantly.
"Not at all. If I can't risk life, limb, and future mental stability for my best friend, who can I risk those things for?"
"That should be etched into a greeting card."
She nodded, but I saw her eyes widen suddenly. I whipped around, and a figure stepped toward me. My hands clenched by my side and if I opened my mouth, he would probably see my heart
beating on the back of my tongue. It was a Philosopher. One glance at his pointed ears and glowing eyes confirmed it. I suddenly realized he was the same young man I'd seen flee from the warehouse the night before when I was lying on my back trying not to snap at my joints and fall apart after the fight with the golem.
The realization sent a surge of anger through me. I stepped toward him.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
He stared at me, dumbstruck. But before I had the chance to ask again, two voices echoed throughout the building, voices I recognized. I pushed Ally, and we ran toward a nearby piece of abandoned equipment. After crouching behind it, I looked around the machinery to see where the voices were coming from. Young man had disappeared and now all I could see were the two Guild members wandering into the area.
I knew them immediately and didn't want to tangle with them. A visit from them in The Deep a few years ago had been plenty to keep both of their faces seared in my mind for the rest of my life.
“What’s going on?” Ally asked. “Who were those guys?”
“Bentham and Thrash,” I told her.
"Where are you?" Bentham called. "We know you're here."
Oh, shit.
"We know you were here last night," Thrasymachus added.
Oh, double shit.
"And we know you’ve been here many times before, Archimedes," Bentham said.
Oh, triple... Wait. That didn't sound right.
It hit me. These two weren't here in the warehouse looking for me. They were hunting for that other guy.
Chapter Twenty
“That was who?” Ally whispered as we ducked behind a wall and crouched down.
“Bentham and Thrasymachus.”
“Who are they?”
“Guild agents,” I told her. “They came to The Deep to see me once. It was not a pleasant afternoon.” A pile of pallets sat next to the wall of the warehouse. I motioned to Ally to follow me, and we wiggled behind it. Footsteps reverberated in the room as someone very large made their way forward. Faintly, I heard a second set of footsteps behind the larger ones, but they both abruptly stopped.
