“Yup!” Cheryl followed alongside Cassidy, and waved back at Marcus. “See you later!”
The camp was as welcome a sight as ever. It had developed into quite a little haven over the months. The tent with its blankets and sleeping bags, Cheryl’s terminal, the grill, a cooler protecting a stockpile of ‘borrowed’ goods, all protected from some of the sun’s harshest hours by a convenient wall of the ruins.
Having camp almost taken from them gave them pause to appreciate it, and remember Cipriana’s lenience about it from the beginning.
“We’re not going to be able to keep it forever.” Cassidy grabbed a knife out of the cooler, and looked at the wall. “What if we left something a bit more permanent?”
Cheryl chuckled. “Would that even be legal?”
“Probably not, but I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“Okay, bad-girl. First I want to call my folks. Do you want to be in on the call?”
“Sure.” Cassidy dropped the knife at the base of the wall, and sat by Cheryl with the terminal. Cheryl rang up her folks, and they took much less time to pick up than in the middle of the night- go figure. A woman appeared that looked a lot like an older version of Cheryl. “Cheryl!”
“Hey mom! Sorry about ringing last night, I-“
“Oh, oh, don’t apologize! It’s just as well! We didn’t see what happened on the news until this morning, and since you called, we already knew things were fine. Are you okay?”
“Yes, mom.”
A male voice was heard hollering somewhere off-screen. “Sandy! Izzat her?”
Cheryl’s mom turned to the side, and answered back. “Yes, Peter, come on.” A moment later, Cheryl’s dad was there as well.
“Hey dad!”
“Cheryl, you alright? The TV was talking about a couple terrorists?”
“Bah,” Cassidy grunted, “They were just a pair of idiots. No real concern. We should watch the news and see how bad they’re over inflating this.”
Mom spoke up again, “Oh! Cheryl, are you going to introduce us to this young lady? I assume this is….”
“Yes,” Cheryl put her arm around Cassidy’s shoulders, and drew her close. “This is Cassidy, and she’s fan-tab-ulous. Cassidy, these are my parents, Sandy and Pete.”
“Well it’s great to finally meet you, Cassidy.” Sandy said, “It seems our little Cheryl is quite enamored with you.”
Cassidy couldn’t help blush a little. “Well, feeling’s more than mutual, Mrs. Lowe!”
“Oh, please, Call me Sandy.”
“Hey there, hey wait a minute.” Peter jumped in, putting on a bit of an air of concern. “Now Cassidy, you can understand that my wife and I are very interested in the idea of grandchildren. This leads me to wonder; do you have a penis?”
“Peter!” Sandy hid her face and shoved Peter. Cheryl muttered something, and shrunk down a little, embarrassed, but Cassidy stood her ground.
“Yes Sir, I do! But the batteries died!”
Peter burst out laughing, and wandered off. “I like her, Sandy!”
In the wake of Peter’s tact, it was now a quick-draw of apologies between Cheryl and Sandy. Sandy won, being more experienced in apologizing for Peter’s social indelicacies. “Cassidy, hon, I’m so sorry.” She looks off-screen to where Peter went. “But well played, at any rate.”
“No problem, Mrs. L- er, Sandy.”
“Mom,” Cheryl chimed in, “assuming Cassidy hasn’t been scared off, could we come for a visit, like maybe next weekend?”
“Oh of course!” Sandy bubbled with joy, “That would be great!”
“I still have to make concrete arrangements, so I’ll let you know when I know more?”
“Sure, of course. Ah, now I’m all excited.” Sandy turned to the off-screen Peter again, “Peter, they’re going to come out and visit!”
“Geez, I gotta get some gas for the barbecue!” was heard.
“Talk to you later, mom!”
“Okay hon! Love you! See you, Cassidy!”
Cassidy waved, and Cheryl disconnected. She turned to Cassidy, and shook her head. “I forgot to warn you about my dad… he’s… he thinks he’s funny.”
Cassidy smirked. “No problem, I think I can go a few rounds with him… he likes his barbecue, huh?”
“Loves it. Burgers, steak, hot dogs, he does some killer roasts-”
“Do you think when we show up, I should lie, and tell him I’m a super-strict vegan?”
Cheryl giggled, and wrapped herself onto Cassidy. “Oh, you two are going to get along just fine.”
Cassidy hugged Cheryl back. “So… they think we’re serious enough that they can bring up grandchildren.” Her voice rang with affection.
“I know it’s way too early to think about thinking stuff like that,” Cheryl said with a slight apologetic tone.
“It’s okay.” Cassidy squeezed a little. “We should think about getting married first. Maybe in a year and a half or so.”
“You’ve been thinking about it…”
“It’s hard not to. Do you want to desecrate a wall with me now?” Cassidy pointed at the knife she left by the wall.
Cheryl looked into Cassidy’s eyes, breathing deeply. She gently pushed her onto her back, and kissed her soft, slow, and deep. “It can wait a little.”
~~~~~
:::C /23
~~~~~
Kirison had been getting more paranoid than usual. The news didn’t say enough about the ‘Suspected A.R.A. terrorists’ that could verify that it had anything to do with Horad and his cronies, but it had to be them. It was too big of a coincidence. What other Aguei would have a motive? It was hard enough to believe that Horad had swallowed his B.S.
The army was doubtlessly investigating in all ways they figured was applicable, but god help Kirison if they go sniffing for nanites. They wouldn’t be hard to find if they bothered to look. They were everywhere around the temple by now, and in everyone. If they found any nanites, Kirison felt it would only be a matter of time before the army tracked it to him. Goddam Lancer sure as hell wasn’t going to protect him. Kirison needed a place to hide, to lay low. Join a frigging missionary, get to Africa or something, then skip out, take a new name, and work docks somewhere.
Yeah, right.
Suffice to say, Kirison’s stress level was at a peak. He found himself trembling a little. What could they do to him? Throw him in jail? How long? What were the details of those new nanite laws? His nanites weren’t designed to hurt anyone. They weren’t designed to hurt anyone! Then those fucking hooligans run in with grenades? Who gave those fucknuts grenades? It was just a good thing that the nanites did their job and turned the grenades ‘off’, or the consequences of getting caught would have been much, much higher.
Having thrown out any desperate plan to hide, Kirison decided to try to act natural. Employment insurance was long gone, and his savings were taking significant hits. Anyone not freaking out about the law bearing down on them would be looking innocently for a job, so that’s what he did.
One evening in his apartment, pecking away at online job postings on his terminal, a call came in from “?????”. Among other things, that could mean a disposable or a public terminal. He accepted the call. A face came up that caused all of Kirison’s suppressed stress to explode out of his mouth.
“Horad!”
“Samuel.” ‘Elder’ Horad’s voice came as grim and gritty as ever, with an expression to match.
Kirison had almost forgotten the name he had given to Horad. He had created a dummy account for Horad to call which forwarded to his terminal. “Horad, that thing on the news, was that your people?!”
“Things did not go as planned. But they will tell the federals nothing.”
“What the heck were you trying to do?”
“The grenades must have been defective,” Horad said, “Others from the same box were fine. Luck was not on their side. The explosions were to create enough injury and confusion that they could escape into the desert.
”
“You could have killed a pile of people!” Kirison knew he was dealing with a dangerous man, but this was more than he wanted. On the other hand, Kirison knew that a sane, reasonable person wouldn’t be useful to him either.
“It would have sent a message about defiling the temple with crass tourism.” Horad said this with no sense of irony, that explosions and murder might be seen as defiling as well. “But still, the tours have ended.”
Damn it, damn it, damn it. Horad felt victorious, and it hadn’t gotten anything done about Kirison’s problem. “Listen, Horad. I wish you had stayed in touch before your little stunt. It’s going to be much harder to get in now. If you had talked to me, I could have given you what you needed to get in and out without capture, without hurting anyone.”
“What’s done is done. My men will simply have to suffer the oppression of prison for the cause.”
“You don’t understand, Horad! You’ve accomplished nothing! The grenades didn’t work because the spirit willed them not to! Until you deliver the chant, the spirit will remain controlled by the lies of the federals! The will of the Aguei will be bound in chains!” If only he had prepared this line of B.S. before, and had everything ready earlier. “We have to meet!”
After making arrangements and hanging up, Kirison took a blood sample from himself and checked on his ‘insurance policy’. It was still doing well.
~~~~~
:::C /24
~~~~~
The brassy sun had long dipped under the west sands. Its light was long departed, and its warmth fading as well.
Yet another afternoon shift was drawing to a close. Things were much as they were before the tourism had started. No visitors, no wide eyed, boisterous children full of questions. Cassidy didn’t really like the idea of tourists at first, but now it seemed like something was missing from the day.
The quiet was peaceful as it always was, but peace can do well with a small dose of noise. A small dose of liveliness.
Night shift people were straggling in, and when it felt like time, spears were handed from afternoon to night, and shift was changed. The southeast guards had a bit of a lead on Cassidy and Cheryl, so Cassidy decided to take her time with Cheryl, and allow Marcus and Cipriana to catch up, having to come a little farther from the north door.
Here they came. Marcus tended to become a little bit of a father figure to many with his easy going, kindly ways. At the same time, Cipriana was already jokingly called the den mother. Despite Cipriana not being nearly as old as Marcus, they looked really good together. They just fit. It seemed so natural to assume they were together, despite what she had been told. But no… watching them, maybe they were just very old friends, long time compatriots. Labels and definitions aside, it was clear they were close. It would be the kind of thing Cassidy might be envious of, if she didn’t have Cheryl.
The evening had a particularly enjoyable calm about it, so Cassidy almost didn’t bother striking up conversation with Marcus and Cipriana. Cassidy broke the silence with a soft tone that was more typical of Cipriana. “Hey, you two.”
Cipriana gave one of her trademark smiles, and Marcus replied. “Hey, Cass, Cheryl. How’s things?”
“S’all good, chief.” Cheryl answered. Marcus nodded. “Good, good.”
The four of them walked along quietly for a bit, then Cassidy moved onto what was on her mind. “Hey Marcus. I have some questions ‘bout our big stone buddy there.”
“Uh huh? Fire away.”
“You talk about the ghost a lot, like you talk to it. I assumed you were just having fun with the idea..”
Marcus smiled. “But now he stops you from blowing up, and you start to wonder.”
“Well, yeah. The watch thing, and the camera thing… I wondered about them, but I never bothered to bring it up.”
Marcus looked back at the temple as they walked, as if he was checking to see if the statue was eavesdropping. “Well, our old boy likes things simple. Fancy new stuff like electronics and explosives? He doesn’t get it. Doesn’t like em. Rather than deal with such complicated unnecessary things, he just puts them to sleep.”
Cassidy smirked, and skipped the issue of the ghost’s existence. “Well, if he can put them to sleep, it seems like he somehow understands them perfectly fine!”
“Bah. Magic doesn’t rely so much on understanding, I think.”
Cheryl spoke up, unsure what to think of Marcus’ sanity. “Does he... speak to you?”
“Not exactly. Usually he whispers thoughts to me.” Marcus scrunched his face a little, searching for the right words. “Ideas. It’s kind of abstract. Tells me useful things, sometimes he just gives me less important things.”
“Like?”
“Well,” he looked into the sky, searching his memory. “Well, before the grenade thing, he warned me something was wrong with the tour group. I wonder if he smelt the grenades. But often it’s more general things.. like that he was enjoying the tours. He misses the kids, I think.”
Cassidy leaned towards Cipriana. “You hear any of this, Cip?”
Cipriana smiled, and shrugged. “No, I think Marcus is the ghost’s favourite.”
Marcus chuckled. “Well, that stands to reason; he’s my favourite ghost of a giant dog statue.”
“Okay, alright, fine.” Cassidy was willing to accept what Marcus was saying just because she had no motivation to argue. “So what’s his story, anyway? Did the Aguei make him?”
Marcus scrunched his face again in thought. “Well, I’ve asked about his history, and I’ve gotten pieces of it, but keep in mind I only get fragments of ideas from him. And his history is a very old memory.”
“We’re listening!” Cheryl nagged jokingly.
“A long time ago, I don’t even think he knows how long this was, there were a lot of different things in the world. Some good, some bad, some very bad. He hated the ones who died but walked.”
“What, like those ‘zombies’ at Autar and Meston?” Cassidy asked.
“Yes. No. Those were terrible for certain, and he could feel them, but they were phony. Compared to the cursed things he hunted ages ago. He hunted and hunted, everywhere he could travel, and when they were all gone, when people were safe from them, he rested here.”
Cassidy and Cheryl looked at each other with cynical glances. Cassidy sighed. “So. Hundreds of thousands of years ago, there was a giant horned dog that ran around killing monsters, then he came here and turned to stone.”
Marcus turned to Cipriana. “When she puts it like that, it sounds far fetched, doesn’t it?” Cipriana gave her amused smile, and then Marcus continued. “I don’t know if that statue is his body. For all I know, the statue was created as a symbolic tribute to a hero or something. Maybe the monsters were just an invading enemy. But what I feel from him feels like a little more than that. All I know for sure is that the ghost likes company.”
“And dislikes complicated stuff like watches.” Cassidy added, still with a tone of skepticism. It all sounded pretty silly, but it was hard to argue with the cameras, watches, and the lack of resent explosions in her midsection. “He doesn’t watch in the showers, does he?”
“You're tiny, bipedal and fur-less. I don’t think you’re his type.”
~~~~~
:::C /25
~~~~~
It was time for Kirison to stop being Kirison the paranoid nervous wreck, and become Samuel the confident, Aguei sympathetic advisor. Confidence wasn’t such an easy thing to have around Horad. Simply put, Horad was kind of scary.
Kirison approached the door in the ground to Horad’s little hidey-hole. One of Horad’s men was sitting beside it, and recognized Kirison. “Go on in,” he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the door. “He’s inside. There’s no trap on the door right now.”
Kirison opened the door, and went in. It was much as it looked the last time he was here. The mattresses, the cheap office furniture, but now the empty gun rack was noticeably better stocked, a new lamp sitt
ing on the floor, and a few bundles of general supplies were on hand.
The light cast stark, unsettling shadows. The table’s shape cast upon the wall and ceiling, the less geometric shadow of one of Horad’s men.
The most disquieting shadows belonged to Horad himself. Not the shadow he cast, but the shadows that the low light drew on his grim weathered face. It bordered on terrifying. A very significant part of Kirison wanted to leave, now. Samuel’s confidence was quite diminished.
“Samuel.” Horad’s voice was hard to read. Was this just a greeting, or was it carrying a tone of accusation? Well, it shouldn’t. Kirison didn’t tell Horad to disappear and launch a half-cocked attack. Yes, yes. That was true. The failure was in essence, Horad’s fault. Kirison felt Samuel’s confidence return.
“I wish you had talked to me before the attack. This could all be over right now, and your men would still be free.”
“All of what would be over? We have succeeded in sending a message. Even if the grenades failed to work.” Horad sounded impatient, but potentially malleable.
“Of course they failed. The spirit wouldn’t allow it. Or guns. But don’t you see? You are an Elder. This isn’t just about politics. The strength of the Aguei will remain imprisoned until freed by the chant!” Yes, don’t over explain all at once. Let Horad feel that ‘Samuel’ has faith that any real Elder would know all about it.
“What chant?” Of course he didn’t know. Kirison had made up the chant, and the odds of Horad being anything resembling a real Elder was slim to none. Horad sounded a little flustered. Kirison had thrown a little too much at him at once.
Kirison walked over to the table, digging into his pocket. He produced his two little, thumb-sized wooden idols, which were thinner in the middle than the ends, and placed them respectfully on the table. One had a V-like shape carved into one end, and the other had a circle. “These chants.”
“What are these?” Ha. Horad was puzzled. Kirison felt a little more in control. It was a nice feeling.
Watching Yute Page 17
