Cannibal World (Wine of the Gods Book 30)

by Pam Uphoff

  She put a startled hand to her lips.

  Xen shifted uneasily.

  "I don't do precog." There were tears in her eyes.

  "Good. But just in case, you go and start opening gates to empty worlds, far from here. Put in corridors from this part of the continent to the gates. Tell the government the worlds are theirs to keep and use as they wish, and hustle through as many people as possible." He met her eyes. "We'll get as many people out of the way of this disaster as we can."

  ***

  Xen frowned at the faint oddness to the east, the clouds flowing in...did the same happen in the Cannibal world? And did the rain fall before or after it merged?

  Only one way to find out.

  "Are you really going to go over there?"

  Xen turned to look at the soldier who'd been following him around.

  "Yeah. I haven't a clue how to stop this, or if it can be stopped. But if it can, the answers are over there. Not here."

  "Hang on a second." He stepped away and headed for a knot of officers.

  Xen checked his stash. Everything in his storage bubbles seemed untouched after his trips in and out of that shadow zone.

  Now I need transportation. Should have brought Pyrite. He thought about the merging, like to like and shivered. I'm glad I did not bring Pyrite.

  He looked over as the soldier returned. Wheeling a bicycle.

  "I had hoped for a motorbike, but the brass said no way. They don't like you going at all, let alone, alone."

  "Yeah, but I can probably save myself. Anyone else . . . would probably just get killed or merged."

  "Yeah." The boy shrugged off a backpack. "Food and water. A comm, with video capacity. Merged guns have been . . . prone to jamming and breech explosions. So, just a few tools and a knife. Sorry."

  Xen eyed the backpack in surprise. "Thanks. That's . . . I was expecting your people to not let me go."

  "They're in over their heads, and they know it. Your researchers . . . we can see they're freaked."

  "In over their heads. They've just realized they aren't the biggest baddest thing out there." Xen looked south. From here he could see the line of the darker blue looming across the city.

  "So we're all trying to slow them down . . . to give you time to run away."

  "Yeah. Thanks. See you around . . . somewhere. Don't hang about waiting for me." Xen grabbed a bubble and set to work making himself and the bike as close to not there that would allow the wheels to touch the ground, and him to see. And a mile down the road, some cooling vents.

  Five miles got him to the Earthers' front line. Another mile to the Cannibals' lines of tanks.

  Beyond that, the construction zone.

  Surveyors directing bulldozers, shoving rubble around as if . . . marking the foundations and walls of buildings that were going to be there soon.

  So that shadowy merging zone is going to expand out this far. He stopped long enough to snap pictures and radio the information and his surmise to the troops.

  And rode into the merge zone.

  Apart from the drop in light level and his crawling skin, it wasn't much different. An urge, a hunger, to reach out and touch . . . anything. Everything.

  Just don't touch anyone.

  A dump truck rumbled by, dust billowing from the open back. Slabs of concrete, twisted steel rebar, from earth, heading deeper into the shadow zone. Was it for the far side, or did the Cannibals' buildings already in the merge zone need more rubble than the already existing Earth buildings could supply?

  He eyed the dust . . . earth dust, no danger. Besides, it was just dust, not like that hideous absorption he'd seen, of human to human.

  He swallowed at the suddenly attractive thought of . . . what? Mugging the nearest human?

  Lots of mechanical noise to the left, He peddled out around a heap of debris and found an assembly yard for the huge dump trucks. Lesser trucks were carrying engines, no, engine parts. The main blocks were . . . sized to fit through a normal gate.

  He watched as two engine blocks were slung in chains and swung to meet each other in midair. And merged.

  Right. You gate truck parts to your target world. Merge it with one straight from the Cannibal World. Then . . . what? It's safe to use on both worlds?

  He eyed the walled area where the truck body parts were being sand blasted . . . or perhaps sprayed with steel micropellets.

  Is there a size limit to what will merge smoothly? How about guns, electronics? I suppose most things, tanks and whatnot, one drives through the gate and back into the shadow zone to merge with another just like it. A bit hard on the drivers. The big things go through piecemeal and get merged then put back together.

  They have this down to a science. Or at least, brute force engineering. To keep their equipment working. But are they causing the merge, or just reacting to it? Poor sods, obviously not the first time for them.

  They could not possibly do this on purpose.

  Right?

  He rode on. Some of the giant trucks were heading deeper into the shadow zone, loaded, he was glad to see, with rubble. He hitched a ride, invisible for about thirty miles. He dropped off as the truck turned. Peddled on.

  Dust blew through his vents and leaped to coat his arms and face. He closed his eyes, opened them to see if the dust had settled.

  Or if it had merely been sucked into his skin. He licked dry lips. Eyed a man walking down the street. As he peddled past him, the man turned toward him, charged at him.

  Xen peddled faster, fighting the urge to stop, to touch . . .

  He peddled on, ignoring the creaks and grits coming from the bike. Trying to not raise any dust. His ankles itched, the skin felt raw and painful. He hoped the liquid trickling down into his boots was sweat.

  It was lighter, ahead. The far edge of the merge zone? The end of the overlap?

  He rode until he could see the edge of the zone, and look out at the end of the tall buildings. Beyond them, the light was normal, a bright day, with scudding clouds rushing across the sky. Rushing into the zone. He wondered if there was a pressure difference, or if the air molecules were merging, halving the amount of air. A rather disturbing thought.

  He stopped to get a good look. Overhead, air and low clouds were whipping into the zone. A downdraft, he could see higher clouds being sucked down . . . rain fell, a brief torrent . . . He opened the bubble. The rain hit his skin and disappeared.

  "I hope I don't regret this." He formed a shield, out and up, a funnel that drenched him in seconds. He drank until the hunger subsided. Sort of. Mostly.

  He peddled further. Poor bike isn't going to last another mile . . .

  And into the bright light. And a foreign city.

  It hit hard. More than a craving, a physical force. A driving wind, gravity. Had to have it. Needed . . . to touch that tree . . .

  No. Don't do it. Merging with a tree is pretty well guaranteed to be fatal. What I really need is to get back into the merge zone before something awful happens.

  His bike sank, melting into the street. He let it fall over, scrambled to stay on top of it and jumped for the shadow zone. Two running steps, his shoes trying to stick to the ground . . . and he was back in the dim light and safe.

  His head jerked around at movement.

  Sort of safe.

  A dog. Thin and desperate looking, rushing at him.

  He snapped out a stun spell and the dog dropped. More movement. Rats. They swarmed toward him and he struck out magically, brushing them back. They came right back, and this time he threw a fireball, ashes flew . . . and curved toward him, hit and sank in. He retreated further into the shadow zone. Patted his exposed skin. Rats! I just merged with rats!

  "Or maybe just the minerals . . . exactly what I need . . . just, please, no actual cells."

  "Erebos!"

  He spun at the sound of a strange voice. A man clinging to a wall, as if physically restraining himself. Unmerged.

  A whisper of thought, the edge of an alien language.
Xen listened mentally, and found a messy stew of thoughts and impressions. Meanings, but not the words.

  Hopeful. The man's jaw tightened. Fright and determination.

  Xen eyed the man's grip. He doesn't want to merge. He dropped his mental barriers further, reaching for the language.

  "Last time . . . my parents forced me to merge. I won't do that to my daughter. Make her a murderer. But if I don't, she will die. And Paeon's just a baby, what about him? They aren't catching any babies. He's going to die too. Unless . . . those ashes?"

  Xen eyed him. A cannibal with a conscience? "I started with unmerged water. Now it's all about unmerged minerals." He turn toward movement in the corner of his vision. Fireballed more rats. Thoroughly, completely. Barely flinched as the ashes hit him. When he turned back, the man was gone.

  He was still craving . . . something, but not nearly so strongly. He smelled cooking. He looked back at his bike . . . It had become one with the street. He walked further back into the shadow zone.

  Looked back at the stunned dog. He shrugged out of the backpack and popped open one of the bottles of water. A sandwich. He incinerated the sandwich and poured the ashes into the bottle. Capped it and walked out to the dog. Poured it on the animal and watched it sink in. As the dog twitched back to consciousness, he pour the water into a dip of the pavement and watched as it lapped eagerly at the water, and rolled on the damp until it realized its proximity to a man and ran away.

  "So . . . outside the shadow zone, reactions are fast, cravings very strong. Inside it's much reduced. Or perhaps just slowed enough for control." He walked deeper into the shadow zone.

  Sniffed and followed that marvelous scent. Complex organics, I hope. I think I hope. He sloshed around a corner. A man was grilling chickens over a charcoal fire. Xen walked into the smoke and just stood there, absorbing . . . something. Swallowed saliva, but not daring to try to acquire dinner.

  At this point I'd probably merge with a dead chicken and kill myself.

  The cook, and several people sitting at tables behind him, eyed Xen suspiciously. But they were all in civilian clothes, no sign of aggressive movement.

  The odd craving faded. Focused on a small container . . . Xen took a last lungful of greasy delicious smoke, and walked up to the grill. He picked up the container. Ah Salt. He poured a generous handful and walked away, licking it.

  Now. I think it's time to find some government offices and ask a few questions.

  The first time he touched a man was terrifying . . . and anticlimatic. The truck driver looked around with a frown. And a sharp demand.

  Dammit, the language didn't stick. Mind you, "hell" was clear. And "who" perhaps?

  Xen probed mentally and . . . floundered in nothing.

  A random chatter, a different brain organization, something that just didn't click.

  A second demand. Sharper and louder, fists clenching.

  No one was in sight, so Xen hit him first. And found himself in a brawl. Son of a whatever had a damned hard skull. He got him in a choke hold and squeezed until he sagged down to the pavement. Hauled him around a pile of rubble—no lack around here—tied him up and settled down to figure out what the hell was going on in the man's head.

  Damage. Healing, sort of. Odd cross connections . . . Man, how many people die when they merge? Buddy, you are so screwed up I do not believe it. And even if I figure out how to unscramble you and read you . . . I'll bet it pretty much random, and every single person will be different.

  Xen stared at the man, and settled down to work. "Let's just see about this language of yours, eh? I'd really like to be able to talk to you people. Or at least understand what I overheard."

  The semiconscious man blinked at his voice, tried to understand . . .

  "Right. Language handled right there. Roughly where it ought to be." He sank into a meditative trance and started catching a twist, a sense of the distortion. Found the language. Found a gestalt, a feeling of culture history background . . . withdrew in horror.

  "You are doing this on purpose? Because your senior forum wants to live forever by merging with younger men? Are they insane?"

  The man rolled his eyes. "We are Helaos, the Damned. Thrown from the Universe, and thus the Universe is made our prey."

  "How many times have you merged?" Xen would have guessed the man's age, in un-engineered humans, at thirty. Engineered, closer to a hundred.

  The man . . . Helaos had he said? Peeled his lips back in a big grin. "I survived the first merge, and I will live until the last and final. I am Athanosos. Immortal."

  "How many merges?" Xen felt chilled.

  "Pent."

  Five. Xen stood and walked away. Feeling sick. How many billions of people have they killed?

  Chapter Five

  21 June 2051

  Pittsburg, PA

  Ben snagged a ride to the Westside HQ, and wound up briefing first the upper echelons and then lower and lower levels until he was in the locker room giving advice to the uniforms before they headed out into the oozing evacuation.

  Everything changed around mid afternoon, and he caught a brief news flash. Melody, looking fresh in new clothes, was demonstrating the use of a trans-dimensional corridor to Chicago. Apparently there were three of them set up, leading to Chicago, St. Louis and Memphis.

  "Damn. That Q . . . Quail, whatever person , really can do things like that, can't she?" Jeff rubbed tired eyes.

  "Yeah." Ben pointed at the cubicle he'd been assigned. "That's mine for the immediate future. The previous occupant hasn't shown up for work. I hope he took off, didn't get . . . merged. Grab a piece of the floor if you need to."

  "I need." He was flat and snoring in seconds, not even twitching as Ben handled call after call, sending the uniforms where needed. Food circulated, and Ben wolfed his and eyed what he'd grabbed for Jeff. As the Sun set, the Rift jumped again, and the Army started retreating.

  He nudged Jeff awake. "Eat quick. I think we're about to evacuate ourselves."

  Jeff inhaled the cold chicken and hit the head as the orders came through. They were pretty methodical about it, got all of their vehicles out, all their people packed into the vehicles and headed out.

  Chapter Six

  25 June 2051

  Midwest

  Q blew out a weary breath. This Earth used a lot of large trucks to ship goods. With all sorts of stupid regulations.

  "Why do they weigh the trucks? No one with any sense is going to overload and damage his very expensive equipment."

  Chris Hanger looked around with a grin. "Right. And no one ever abuses or overloads horses."

  Q paused. Shrugged. "Never mind."

  She raised another arch and attached the other end of the corridor to it. The plaza of the truck weigh station provided the needed room, and more to the point, an on ramp to the interstate so the people evacuating Pittsburg could keep going west.

  She'd put both gates and corridors in the big cities of the northeast. But the people were slow to respond. City dwellers. They've sent through bulldozers to make roads, but no one follows. "There's no plumbing! No electricity! No internet!"

  And they don't believe. Yet.

  But now she needed to put up gates in a dozen more large cities.

  Foreign governments were . . . rather sensibly dubious of all claims, but the idea of an empty world, all theirs . . . she had a zigzagged flight plan that would take her all over the world, once those closest to the threat had escape routes.

  Just don't leave leaving until it's too late! Please.

  She walked back to the helicopter the government had put at her disposal. "So . . . down the East Coast, then cut across the south to Los Angeles then up. With gates outside of every major city."

  "Yes, Ma'am." Captain Leon Cato. In his mind, and no doubt his superiors as well, he was ready to take her down at the first sign of hostile actions, while protecting her from attackers, and facilitating her travels.

  She was happy to allow him to believe the
first two so long as he managed the third so well. And charmingly.

  "All in a week, Gods help me! Then the overseas trip." She smiled back at him, and wished she wasn't so rushed. So worried. Xen, you'd better not need rescuing while I'm gone! And if that overlap zone gets much bigger, we'll have to start removing gates. Because I don't want to see what happens to a gate trapped inside it.

  Chapter Seven

  4 Eptiphorian 4721

  Helios Shadow Zone

  Pent Adrastos was worried. There were troubling rumors that the target was evacuating Damos faster than the shadow zone could be extended. Faster than already merged soldiers could secure areas and capture young healthy Damos for proper merges.

  His company had been next up for a controlled merge, but instead they were being sent to the front. Battlefield merge was an insult, it was what you called someone to imply that they were ugly, clumsy, stupid, disloyal . . . And now it was a risk they were all being ordered to take.

  His Exis and Eptas had his dokastrato, his two hundred men, ready for him to address. To lie to, poor strats.

  "For some of you, this is your first merger. To be ordered into a battlefield unmerged is intimidating. Let me tell you that for many reasons, this is the best way.

  "You will be facing--and will merge with—young men, healthy, fit soldiers. Men much like yourselves.

  "You will be fighting and so busy that you haven't the time for the thoughts that—trust me—haunt the mind while standing in line waiting for a controlled merge.

  "There will be greater disorientation, and a longer primary period of integration.

  "We will be hitting a fortified position, but with the merge the walls will be weakened and collapsing. Stay away from the civilian areas. The already merged soldiers and techs will deal with them. Seek the soldiers. Use the gas grenades, the concussion grenades. Kill as few as you can, and don't touch dead bodies. Make me proud today. Go in there and fight. Take what you want."