Laura Morrison_ComeBackToTheSwamp_EbookFormatting Embedded Cover

by Come Back to the Swamp (retail) (epub)

  “When the swamp decides, I will know.”

  “But you’re the swamp!”

  “Does your hand know what your mind is contemplating?”

  “Uh, so you’re the swamp’s hand?”

  “Yes. Its hand,” Swamp said approvingly, clearly thinking Bernice was finally catching on. Bernice disagreed. “The swamp needs an ambassador. A hand. And I am getting old. Hence the need for you.”

  “I can be plenty helpful to the swamp back at the university. Or doing my research. I don’t need to see any secrets and I don’t need to be dragged anywhere.”

  Swamp didn’t answer.

  “So you’re the swamp, but you’re also … not? Like you don’t know what its thinking? Then how―”

  “I do not know what the swamp thinks, unless it tells me. Your hand does not know what your mind is contemplating unless your mind needs it to do something. Your mind tells your hand to scratch and itch, and your hand does it. Your mind tells your hand to swat a mosquito, and it does it. Your mind―”

  “I get it. Are you aware that you’re insane?”

  The old lady didn’t respond.

  Bernice really wished there was some smooth way to segue any of this craziness into a nice, convincing invitation for the old woman to come with Bernice to the homeless shelter downtown. But with each step deeper into the swamp that she was dragged, the very notion that she had thought the homeless shelter idea might work felt more and more stupid. “I know you’re Rebecca Hallett,” Bernice said.

  Again, the old lady didn’t respond. But Bernice was pretty sure she felt a tremor in the woman’s hand that gripped her wrist.

  “You disappeared into this swamp like five or six decades ago.” With her free hand, Bernice swatted at more mosquitos. So many mosquitos.

  Silence from the old lady.

  “You can’t be the swamp’s hand. You’re Rebecca Hallett. A human being who was born outside this swamp and just got lost in here one day and went bonkers from being alone for years drinking filthy swamp water and eating raw birds and licking toads or whatever passes for entertainment out here.”

  “I was Rebecca Hallet. I became the swamp’s hand when I was shown the secret of the swamp by my predecessor.”

  Bernice felt a chill. Predecessor? Some person had done to Swamp what Swamp was about to try to do to her? “And that would be the same secret of the swamp that you’re about to show me?”

  “The very same.”

  “Uh.” This was not cool. This secret of the swamp sounded like something Bernice absolutely did not want to see. “What if I don’t want to see it?”

  “I told you if you came back I’d show you. You came back. So I am showing you.”

  “I don’t want to see it. I want to leave.” Though Bernice was trying to sound calm, a definite edge of panic was showing through in her voice.

  “Fear not. If the swamp does not choose you, it will let you go. And if it does choose you, you will understand, and you will not want to leave. Either way, you will be fine. Either way, the outcome will feel right.”

  Bernice didn’t answer. If this secret of the swamp had played any part in Rebecca losing her mind, Bernice didn’t want anything to do with it. It was probably a mass grave or an illegal dump site full of creepy mind-altering chemicals from a 1960’s lab experiment.

  Maybe struggling was worth a try after all.

  As Rebecca led Bernice past a willow, Bernice grabbed around the trunk with her free arm and held tight, then wrapped one leg around it as well. She braced herself for the inevitable tug when Rebecca kept on walking. When it came, it was nearly enough to rip her free of the tree. But she managed to hold on.

  Rebecca turned around to glare at her, and gave her another hard tug that nearly peeled her from the tree trunk. “Come,” Rebecca demanded.

  “No.”

  “Come.” Tug.

  “No. I have no interest at all in seeing the secret of the swamp. I only came here because, uh …” Bernice paused. This was not the way she’d have liked to bring up the idea of the homeless shelter. But a natural segue was just not happening. “Aren’t you tired of living out here? Like in the winter and in the heat of the summer and in the rain and all that? Ouch!” she gasped as Swamp tugged hard. “Uh, like you gotta be tired of, um, sleeping on the ground? Getting sunburn? Frostbite?”

  Rebecca gave her another tug, and didn’t answer.

  “Of course you’re tired,” Bernice answered for her. “Of course you are. There’s this nice place downtown where you can live. It’s got heat and air conditioning and clean water and good food, and you can live there, and I can take you there. We can go right now. Sound nice? That’s why I’m here. I’m not here to see the secret of the swamp. I’m here to take you to this super nice place where you can be clean and dry and comfortable.”

  The old woman turned away from her, looking around. “We are nearly there, anyway. This is far enough.” Then, she began to search the ground with her eyes.

  “What are you looking for?” Bernice asked warily. “Is the secret of the swamp like lying on the ground or something?”

  “I am not looking for the secret of the swamp. I am looking for something to hold you still while the swamp works. Ah, there,” she said as she spotted something in the grass. “Perfect.” Rebecca snapped her fingers.

  At first Bernice thought it was a snake. But it was a vine. Moving. Again. Bernice screamed. An Asiatic bittersweet vine was winding its way through some swamp grass toward Bernice. Just like what had happened to Kevin earlier. No matter how many times Bernice saw this moving vine trick of Swamp’s, it would never be any less brain-jarring. Rebecca had snapped her fingers and now the plant was moving. Bernice stared in horror at the old woman. Then she glanced back at the vine. This was not happening. This was not possible.

  She screamed again. Rebecca didn’t even try to stop her screams, which was distressing since it meant the old woman was confident Bernice wouldn’t be heard.

  The vine was moving all by itself. Closer and closer to her. Rebecca could do … what? Magic? Telekinesis? Was Bernice hallucinating? This couldn’t be real.

  Rebecca was now holding Bernice to the tree instead of trying to pull her off of it. The old woman was watching the vine with an intensity that gave Bernice the distinct impression she was not just watching but directing its progress. The vine was creeping up the tree, wrapping around Bernice’s ankles, snaking higher and higher until it was wrapped around her entire body. Great. Just great. Asiatic bittersweet had always been high on Bernice’s list of most hated invasive species, but this had moved it right to the top of the list. Number one. No question.

  Bernice couldn’t move. Not an inch. She screamed again.

  Rebecca snapped her fingers and the end of the vine slid its way across Bernice’s mouth.

  Then, as Bernice stared in wide-eyed horror, Rebecca reached into her filthy clothing, brought her hand out in a fist, opened her hand palm upward, and blew some powder into Bernice’s face.

  CHAPTER SEVEN:

  POSTER

  Bernice began to gag against the vine in her mouth as the powder entered her lungs.

  Rebecca snapped her fingers again and the vine left Bernice’s mouth.

  “What was that stuff?” Bernice gasped between coughs. None of this was possible. No. She struggled against the vines. The rough bark rubbed against her skin, and didn’t give a fraction of an inch.

  Rebecca tilted her head to the side, studying Bernice. “Spores and pollen … and a few other ingredients. I will teach you the concoction if you are deemed worthy,” she explained. “You will be fine. Do not be afraid. The swamp will take care of you.”

  “Let me go! Is this what you did to Kevin?” She thought of his blue lips and crazy giggling. “Is this the secret of―”

  “No. This is not the secret of the swam
p. The concoction will make your mind a hospitable place for the swamp in the event that it chooses you.”

  Bernice whimpered, “I need to get out of here. You can’t―”

  “Be calm. For a while, things will be confusing. But then everything will be clear.”

  “Confusing? Confusing how?” Bernice asked, panicked, trying to prepare for whatever was about to happen even as she felt something weird going on inside of her head. Some sort of disconnected fogginess was seeping in.

  “Things won’t be real for a time. You will experience things that seem real but aren’t. Then, if you are chosen, you will awaken reborn.”

  “Not real? Wh-what do you―” Bernice asked, blinking against the weird feeling in her eyes. “Reborn? Seriously, let me go. This is―”

  “I cannot say in what way things will not be real for you. For me, I was an activist working for civil rights. Eventually I was elected president.”

  Bernice shook her head. Rebecca was still talking, but the disconnected fogginess was pressing against the back of her eyes and her ears were ringing and she couldn’t hear, and then she could hear because she heard herself giggling. Oh shoot. Giggling. Like Kevin. She tried to hold on to normalcy, but normalcy melted right away out of her brain into the air and everything was hilarious and Rebecca disappeared in a puff of smoke. Had that really happened? Probably not. Swamp presidents. People or swamps disappearing in puffs of smoke or puffs of spores or pollen or whatever. It didn’t matter. It was hilarious. Everything was hilarious.

  Until the ringing in her ears started.

  Louder and louder and louder and she wanted to scream except that would have made things even louder and she couldn’t take any more loudness. Her head was going to explode.

  Everything got blindingly bright.

  Then blackness.

  #

  Bernice woke slowly to the sound of a red-winged blackbird singing in the tree above her head. Why had she never noticed before how grating the call of the red-winged blackbird was? Why had she never noticed before how bright the world was? She could barely open her eyes. She heard a voice. She heard a low, relentless ringing, quiet, almost not there, but definitely constant.

  “Huh?” she croaked, blinking. She opened her eyes a crack. There was a person standing a few yards away from her. A man.

  “Hey, kid, you okay?”

  “Huh?” she repeated. Wow, her throat was dry. She was thirsty. So thirsty. And that ringing was irritating. And everything was weird. Foggy. Heavy. Her eyes felt strange.

  The guy laughed. “Are you okay?” He sounded familiar. Her eyes were slowly adjusting. She could tell he was tall and had short, dark hair. A green jacket. Why was he wearing a jacket in this heat?

  “Who are you?”

  “What are you doing stuck to that tree?” the guy questioned as he took a few steps closer.

  Stuck to a tree? Huh? She opened her eyes a bit more and looked around. Why was she in the swamp? Why had she been unconscious in the swamp? There were vines wrapped around her. Asiatic bittersweet by the look of them. She was being held vertical to a tree by a long vine of Asiatic bittersweet. She wiggled around a bit. It was pretty loose. She could get out, easy. “Can you give me a hand?” she asked as she started pushing against the vines. The vines were by no means tight, but they were hard to bend.

  The guy stepped closer.

  Bernice pushed against the top vine, and the end of it unwrapped from around the willow behind her. She did the same to the second coil and the third, all the while wondering why this guy was not helping her. He was just standing there silently, watching her struggle. “Come on, dude, give me a hand,” she said.

  “Have you seen anyone else in these parts?” he asked her.

  “Uh. No. No, I just woke up a minute ago stuck to a tree. I haven’t seen anyone but you,” she replied as she pushed against the fourth coil. It was too thick, too securely wrapped around the tree behind her. But it and the coils below it were loose enough for her to wriggle around. She looked up at the willow branches above her head. She grabbed one and pulled herself up about a foot, then used the coils as a sort of ladder, climbing upward and over the spiral of vine. Pulling herself up as much as she could, she squirmed over so she was hanging from the branch, outside the vines. She let go and landed on her feet, free from the bittersweet. How on earth had she gotten there? What was going on? She looked over at the unhelpful man. Her eyes widened. She recognized him. Oh wow. Bernice squeaked, “Captain Joe?”

  He grinned and did a mock bow. “I see my reputation precedes me. I’m surprised a person on this little backwater rock knows who I am!”

  “Of course I know who you are!” she breathed. “I have a post—” Bernice stopped short. Oops. Play it cool, Bernice. Don’t mention the poster of Captain Joe on your bedroom wall. You’re twenty-four. There’s no excuse. “Uh … I have a post … a post―”

  “You’re posted here?” he asked.

  Bernice grabbed the lifeline. “Yes. Yes. That’s it. Yup, I’m posted here.”

  “Oh! Well that explains it.” He flashed a crooked grin. “How long has Central had you out here?”

  “Uh. I’ve been posted here for three months.”

  “Doing what?” Captain Joe asked, looking around bemusedly. “Sitting around watching birds?”

  “Um.”

  “Where’s your base?”

  “Uh …”

  “Kid, you okay?”

  “Uh, I’m super thirsty. My ears are ringing.” She shook her head. “You got any water?”

  “Not on me. There’s some on the ship.” There was a blinding flash of white light, and for a second Captain Joe disappeared. She was standing alone in the swamp and it was the middle of the night. Her stomach hurt. She felt like she was going to vomit. A crescent moon shone down straight overhead. Midnight? What? Another flash a few seconds later, and it was daytime again, and Captain Joe was back. Her stomach felt fine.

  Bernice blinked. “What just happened?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Captain Joe.

  “You just … uh …” She shook her head. “Never mind.” Weird.

  “Okay, kid … if you’re sure …” He did a classic Captain Joe eyebrow lift and head tilt. “So, like I was saying … let’s head back to the Mantis.”

  The Mantis. That snapped Bernice out of her preoccupation. She gasped and stared at him. The ship! Oh wow. “Is the whole crew here?” she asked giddily.

  He nodded. “Yep. Zed, our pilot, his brain got infected by this parasite. It―”

  Bernice gasped. She had just watched this episode two nights ago! She cut in enthusiastically, “Oh yeah! It infected his brain and made him fly to― Oh, wow―” The parasite made him fly to Earth? Wow. That did not seem quite right. But here Captain Joe was. So clearly she’d gotten it wrong. Her head was so foggy. “The parasite brought you to Earth.”

  “Ah,” said Captain Joe. “I see Central is keeping you abreast of our developments. Let’s go to your post. We need some parts for our engine. I bet you’ve got spares. They’re standard. Central will have equipped you.”

  “Oh, uh. I …” Bernice muttered, putting a hand to her incessantly ringing head. “I don’t have any spare anything. A Darra raiding party came through a month back. I’ve got nothing.”

  Captain Joe raised his eyebrows. “Darra all the way out here on the outskirts?”

  “Yup.” Please believe it, Captain.

  “Aw shoot. Well, okay. Marcus will manage something. Let’s head back to the ship.”

  Bernice could barely conceal her glee. Captain Joe was taking her to the Space Mantis! And Marcus was there! Beautiful, beautiful Marcus the mechanic, who always managed to find a reason to take his shirt off at least once an episode. Oh, swoon. Marcus was―as of the end of the most recent season―single, since Salia had turned out to b
e a double agent who had been using him in order to spy on the crew of the Mantis for General Waters. Yes. Marcus was single. And, as luck would have it, Bernice was single, too. She and Marcus had so much in common. They were both in their 20’s, and they both had black hair, and … uh, whatever. Match made in heaven.

  Bernice fell into step beside Captain Joe. The ringing was getting louder. Very irritating. But she tried to ignore it, since there she was talking to the captain of the Space Mantis. She didn’t want to ruin the moment by talking about a ringing sound in her ears. He’d probably think she had a parasite in her brain like how Zed did. Wait, what if she did have a parasite in her brain like how Zed did? If the parasite had brought them to Earth, did that mean the parasites originated on Earth? That made sense. Otherwise, how would the parasite have known about Earth? Oh shoot. Did she have a parasite? Were they going to quarantine her? How could she put the moves on Marcus the mechanic if she was locked away in the sick bay with no one but the hard-as-nails Dr. Angela for company? She really didn’t want that parasite. It had nearly killed Zed. But she was probably just dehydrated. That was all it was. Not the parasite. Nope. “How far until we reach the Mantis?” she asked Captain Joe.

  “It’s just up ahead. Zed crashed us right in―” Captain Joe stopped short and directed his gaze to the sky. “You hear that?”

  “I …” Bernice said. “No … I don’t hear anything …” But then she heard it. The screaming of a Darra raider. Or was that the ringing in her head?