Image of the Beast

by Philip José Farmer

  But now, he had changed his mind. He wanted to escape. The chopping off of the snake-thing's bead had sickened him. He was becoming an Og by association with them. If he continued with them, he might end up as cold and cruel as they.

  An hour passed. Then, knowing that he did not have too much time to carry out the plan he had conceived, he arose. He went into the bathroom and turned on all the faucets. He used a nailfile to unscrew the grate over the shower drain, and he stuffed the drain with sheets. He put the plugs in the bathtub and washbasin drains. Then he looked around for weapons and tools. The Ogs had taken the pliers and the cleaver.

  The nearest thing to a weapon was the jade statuette, which he could use for a club. He could also use it to listen in on anything on the intercommunication system, since it operated without wires.

  He prowled around, looking for other useful items and could find none. He sat down on the bed and waited. It would take a long time for the water to fill the room as high as the canopy on top of the bed. He would be on top of it when that occurred, since he had determined that the canopy would support him.

  The hours passed. The water flowed out of the bathroom and spread over the bedroom floor. It rose agonizingly slowly. But the time came when he had to climb up on the canopy and wait there.

  The statuette in his hand spoke. "Captain, it is dinner time. Do you wish anything to eat?"

  "Not now!" he said. He gauged when the water would rise to the level of the canopy. "In about an hour. I'll take the same food as last night! Oh, by the way, when does the ceremony start?"

  There was a pause and then the voice said, "About nine, Captain. Or later if you prefer."

  "I think I'll sleep a little now," he said. "Be sure to wake me about ten minutes before you bring dinner in."

  When the waters lapped at the canopy, and wet his rear through the cloth, he swam out into the room. The door to the bathroom was almost under by then. He dived through the door and came up to the airpocket between the bathroom ceiling and the surface. Then he dived down again. The ceiling light was still on, so he could see somewhat in the clear water. He turned off all the faucets in one dive and then returned to the top. Another dive through the door, and he swam back to the canopy.

  As he pulled himself onto it, he felt a shock. The water slipped to one side of the room, as if the house had been tilted, and then it rushed back.

  For a moment the motion confused him. He was panicked. What the hell had happened?

  The voice said, "Captain! If you felt that lurch, do not be alarmed! It's not an earthquake! We think that the front of the hill gave way! We're inspecting the damage now! But do not be alarmed! The house is at least forty feet from the edge of the hill!"

  Everybody in this house was so engrossed in the Grailing that they had forgotten about the deluge and its possible effects. Other houses were slipping and sliding, tumbling down hills which caved out from under them. But these people had felt themselves insulated from the disaster. They had far more important matters to attend to.

  Now was his best chance. If a large number of them were out of the house, looking at the slide, he had a clearer road out than he had hoped for.

  He spoke into the statuette: "I'll take my dinner right now."

  "Sir," said the voice. "It isn't ready yet."

  "Well, send a man in. The slide broke a waterpipe in here. It's flooding my room."

  "Yes, sir."

  He waited. He had slipped the statuette between his belt and his stomach. He poised now, hoping that the pressure of the water would spring the door outwards even more swiftly than it normally traveled.

  The caving in of the hill front had undoubtedly been the main factor in making the house lurch. But the enormous weight of all the water in this room had helped. Now, if only things worked right.

  Suddenly, the door swung out. The water churned and frothed as it plunged through the narrow exit.

  Childe hesitated several seconds and then he dived. He was caught by the current and hurled through the doorway, brushing it as he went by and hurting his ribs and hips. He struck into the wall on the side of the corridor opposite the door and then was shot, turning over and over, helplessy down the hall. The house must have been tilted slightly forward, towards the road, when it had shifted in response to the cave-in. Most of the flood seemed to be charging in that direction.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 42

  The water fell through the hole in the floor as if it were a waterspout. It pounded the narrow platform, making it shudder and threaten to break up. It swirled the raft around so that several men, clinging to the side of the raft, were crushed between raft and wall.

  Forry, hanging on to another man on the raft, thought that this time the house had slipped forward after another cave-in. This time, it was not going to stop. It would go down the hill, and everybody in it would be buried under tons of mud. Especially those in this underground hole!

  The worst part of it was that they had removed their air tanks and so could not swim back through the tunnel.

  Or could they? It was difficult to think coherently while the water was roaring through that hole and the raft was spinning and he could not see much because of the splashing and spraying around him. But it had seemed to him that the swim through the tunnel was a very short one and that he would not have to swim under the surface of the swimming pool to its end. He could emerge at once.

  But the thought of going through the curving tube when its side might collapse at any second unnerved him. Bad as it was being shut in this hole here, he would stay.

  By then all the lights had been extinguished, and he was in total darkness.

  Suddenly, though the raft was still turning, the turbulence was much reduced. A light came on, and he could see another light. This was shining down through the hole in the floor. Water was still coming through but it was a trickle compared to the first discharge.

  Hindarf was shouting at them to be quiet. Miraculously, he was unhurt.

  Under his directions they erected the ladder again, and he climbed on up through it. His men followed him. Presently, a man pushed Forry and urged him to get going. Forry scrambled up the ladder swiftly but reluctantly. He poked his head through the floor and saw a bedroom that had been submerged only a few minutes before. The only exit was blocked with chairs, tables, and the bed, which had been swept against the doorway by the current.

  The Tocs worked furiously to clear the furniture away. Hindarf and another looked for Childe, but he was not in the room.

  "What happened?" Forry said to Hindarf.

  "I don't know. But I would guess that Childe or whoever was a prisoner in here flooded this place. When the door was opened, he went on out, riding the waters. He may have escaped."

  "Good!" said Forry. "Maybe we can leave then?"

  Hindarf looked down the hall at the wreckage. Several tables and vases and a crumpled carpet were piled at the corner where the hall turned. Part of the wall, where the water had first struck, was broken in. A man with a broken neck lay against the wall. He was identified as Glinch, an Og who had once terrorized medieval Germany as a werewolf. For the past twenty years, he had been working in the Internal Revenue Service, Los Angeles.

  Hindarf gave direct orders. Part of the Tocs were to go down that hall, looking for whatever they could find in the way of Childe, the Toc prisoners, and the Grail. He, Ackerman, and the rest of the party would go the other direction.

  As they split up, they were hurled off their feet by another shock. Somewhere in the house, a great splintering and crashing sounded.

  "We may not have much time left!" Hindarf said. "Quickly!"

  They broke in a door which was jammed because of the twisted walls. They found the three Tocs, naked, hungry, and scared, in that room. The next room contained Vivienne, whom everybody except Forry recognized. She was lying in bed, moaning with pain, a sheet over her. Hindarf pulled off the sheet, and Forry's eyes bulged. A three and a half foot long penis with an a
mputated head was lying between her legs, its other end stuck into her cunt.

  "So somebody killed Gilles de Rais at last?" Hindarf said.

  "Childe did it," Vivienne moaned.

  "Where is he?"

  She groaned and shook her head. Hindarf reached out and gave a savage yank on the thing between her legs.

  What happened next was something that Forry would never be able to forget.

  Hindarf picked up the many-legged cunt and smashed it against the wall. "Here's something for your collection," he said, handing the head with its kicking legs to Forry by the hair. Forry backed away and then ran out of the room.

  There were shouts and then shots and screams somewhere in the house. Hindarf pushed past him and ran down the hall. Forry followed the others and eventually entered an enormous room where about twelve Tocs were struggling with ten Ogs. In the middle of the battle was a glass cube with a dully glowing gray goblet on a pedestal.

  A Toc shoved the cube over with his foot, and the enclosure fell with a crash, taking the pedestal and the goblet with it. There was a desperate scramble, during which the floor suddenly tilted with a deafening crash and rending of timbers from nearby. The cube slid down to one end of the room while the combatants, knocked off their feet, chuted after it.

  Forry was knocked down and sent sliding on his face for perhaps ten feet. He suffered friction burns on his hands and knees, but he did not notice them at that moment. The goblet had tumbled out of the cube and come to rest a foot before his face.

  "Get it and run!" Hindarf yelled, and then an Og woman, whom he recognized as Panchita Pocyotl, leaped upon Hindarf from behind and bore him to the floor.

  Forry would not have touched the goblet if he had thought about the effects of his act. But, excited and impelled by the Toc's order, he scrambled to his feet, scooping the goblet up. Even in his frenzied state, he noticed that it felt extraordinarily warm and that it seemed to pulse faintly. He also felt a resurgence of energy and an onslaught of courage.

  He ran, even though he was not supposed to run. He went out of the room and down the hall and then there was a terrible grinding noise, a groaning, a shrieking, and a rumble as of thunder. The floor dropped; he fell, though still holding the goblet.

  The room seemed to turn upside down. He struck the ceiling, which cracked open before he hit it. The lights had gone out then, but a flashlight from somewhere, maybe held by an Og who, had just entered the house, threw a beam on the goblet and the surrounding area.

  Half-stunned, Forry saw the goblet slide away from him. A dark figure hurtled into the area of the light and sprawled after the goblet. It was not clad in a diving suit and it was not Childe, so he presumed it was an Og.

  He kicked the Og as he rose with a triumphant cry, holding the goblet to his chest. The bare foot--he had long since shed his flippers--caught the Og under the cheek of his right buttock. At the same time, the house lurched again, and the Og, screaming, went flying forward. The goblet fell from his grip and rolled out through a doorway which was collapsing.

  Cold wet mud lifted Forry and carried him as if he were on a rubber raft through the doorway just before it closed in on itself. He shot out through another room as if he were a cake of soap slipping out of the wet hands of a bather. The goblet appeared before him riding upside down on a wave of mud. Forry reached out and grabbed it and held it to his chest even through his terror and his screaming.

  Then he was turned upside down. Mud covered him and filled his nostrils and mouth. He choked and fought against the wet heavy stuff killing him.

  Something struck the side of his head; and he fell into a darkness and silence blacker and quieter than the mud

  * * *

  CHAPTER 43

  Partly stunned when he hit the wall at the first turning of the corridor, Childe was hurled down the next hall, spun off lightly at the second turning, turned aside by a great curling wave, and shot down another hall. At its end it opened onto the front door and, on the side, to a large room. The waters split here, one torrent shooting through the doorway after having broken down the door, and the other torrent spilling into the room.

  The parting of the flood greatly diminished its force and its level. Childe scraped his knees and hands on the lintel as he went through the front door and was deposited at the foot of the steps at the bottom of the porch. Staggering because of the water that was falling on his back, he crawled away and then got to his feet. He took two steps and screamed as he fell outwards and down. The mud of a very steep bank took him, and he slid face down for some distance before plunging up to his shoulders into the sticky stuff. He fought his way out and then lay on his back, staring upwards.

  Light was streaming out through the open door and several other windows. He was lying on top of the cave-in. And if he did not get out of the way soon, he would be crushed by the entire weight of the mansion. It was groaning and swaying, and the slides of mud around him heralded a greater slide.

  Though he would have liked to stay there and rest, he turned over and slipped and slid to his feet and sludged away from the building looming above him as fast as he could go. Once he tripped over a solid object, which he would have thought a small boulder if it had not moaned. He got down on his knees and felt the roundness, which was the head of a woman buried up to her neck.

  "Who is it?" he said.

  "It's me," the woman said.

  "Who?"

  "Diana Rumbow. Who're you?" And then, "Help me!"

  Mud abruptly covered his legs to the ankles. He looked up but could not see much except that the house seemed to be tilting a little more. Suddenly, the lights went out, and a great grinding noise came from the house.

  He went on as swiftly as he could. It would take him a long time to dig her out, and the house was surely coming down, on them at any minute. Besides, he owed an Og nothing except death.

  When he had gotten to one side, far enough out of danger from the house, though not from the slippage of the hill beneath him, he turned. Just as he did, the great structure screamed and toppled down the steep slope. Though it was so dark, he could still see that it had turned over on its side, so swiftly had the earth beneath it fallen in.

  He wanted to make for the ruins as fast as he could, but he was too emptied and shaken. He sat down in the mud and wished that he could cry. After a while, he got up and sludged through the mud, sinking to his knees with every step. He went even more slowly than the effort accounted for, because he was never sure that he would not keep on sinking.

  The first body he found was Forry Ackerman's. It was lying on top of the mud, though sinking very slowly. He was on his back, his face covered with mud but his spectacles still on. A glow of headlights coming up the road below showed him palely to Childe.

  "Forry?" he said.

  The mud-covered lips parted to show mud-covered teeth.

  "Yeees?"

  "You're alive!" Childe said. And then, "How in bell did you get here? What's been going on?"

  "Help me up," Forry said.

  Childe hauled him up, but Forry got down on his knees and started groping around. The headlights of the car came up over the top of the road below them, and Childe could see much better. But he could see nothing that Forry might be groping for.

  "I had it! I had it!" Forry groaned.

  "What?"

  "The Grail! The Grail!"

  "You had it? How? Forry, tell me, what's going on?"

  Forry, feeling into the mud and uttering curses which were completely out of character for him, told him.

  Childe pulled him to his feet. "Listen, you'll never find it in this mess. We better go into the house, if we can get into that mess, and look for our friends. If they are our friends."

  Forry raised his head sharply. "What do you mean, if they are our friends?"

  "How much do you and I really know about the Tocs?" Childe said. "They've been nice to us, but then they have a reason to be so. Even the Ogs became better after they had a reason to get
my cooperation. So..."

  "I have to find that Grail," Forry said. "I want to go to the planet of the Tocs. It'll be the only chance I'll ever have!"

  "All right, Forry," Childe said. "We'll get it somehow. I'd like to have it, too, so I could settle this thing once and for all! But we'd better see who we can save. After all, Toc or Og, human or not, they feel pain, and they're going to need help."

  The car had approached as closely as its driver dared. Four people got out and walked through the mud to them. It took a few minutes of questioning by both parties before it was established that the newcomers were Tocs. They had been summoned from the other side of the world and had just managed to get here.

  "I wouldn't worry about finding it, Captain," the leader, Tish, said. "You can concentrate on it, and it will glow. The glow will come up even through tons of mud."

  * * *

  CHAPTER 44

  The Tocs and the Ogs bad hired a hall.

  Over two-thirds of the big dance floor of the American Legion post had been marked off in squares. The remaining third was given over to the hundred or so surviving members of both groups. And to Childe, the Captain, the Grail and its pedestal. And to Forry Ackerman, who sat on one side to observe. He would participate in the ceremony but only as one caught in the sidewash of radiation. When the time came for the voyaging, he would move into the direct influence of the power and, if all went well, travel with the others to the stars.

  Childe sat in a chair before the Grail. Beyond him the Tocs and Ogs stood in ranks of twelve abreast. They were naked. Everybody in the hall was naked.