Whatever Gods May Be (31 page)

The Birdog felt a momentary drag behind her, which slowed her climb slightly, but this sensation lasted for perhaps a second or two.  The hanging rat pawed at its throat ineffectually, before it's head snapped apart from its squirming trunk and fell into the surf.  The other Jumper stared on in amazement as its associate plummeted to the ground a few feet away.  Not quite sure what to make of this irregular epidemic of dying, the last rat did nothing more than eye the two corpses in front of it with dumb wonder.

Zolan didn't waste a moment.  He could not immediately identify his winged benefactor, but he did not stand on the beach trying.  Hauling himself around the gangplank column, he raced up the wet stairs to the open hatchway above.  The dumbfounded rat below was startled by his movement, but it too, acted quickly.  Eyeing Zolan with confused hate, the monster took two large hops toward the Rover.

It didn't even reach the base of the stairs.

The Birdog had quickly arched itself overhead and repeated the motions it had gone through in the first attack.  This time around, her tail whipped itself around the rat's bulging midsection, making the thing gurgle in surprise.  Even the impressive tonnage of the Jumper did not slow the Birdog down, and a second later, the beast was lifted off of the beach squealing in terror.

Zolan watched the amazing spectacle from the top of the boarding gantry.  It looked as thought the Birdog was going to crash itself into the cliffs, as it showed no indication of veering up or away.  But at the moment it looked to Zolan to be the point of no return, the amazing Birdog angled off sharply to its left, using her forward velocity to slingshot the rat-baggage behind her against the cliff face.  The Jumper splattered into a red stain on the jagged rocks, while the Birdog soared easily back towards the Rover.

Making another execrable landing to the beach several yards away from the boarding gantry, the Birdog barked and rolled playfully in the sand.  The water line had now completely moved past the two support columns of the gantry, and had submerged the two rat corpses.  The Birdog started to bound toward the Rover, when suddenly it stopped dead in the water.

Zolan was badly shaken and very wet, but he didn't hesitate to descend the boarding platform once again to meet his mysterious savior.  No sooner had he reached the beach, then the Birdog barked at him in a tone that was distinctly unfriendly.  Zolan stared at her baffled.  Suddenly, the creature was running in the opposite direction, and a second later she was airborne again.

Mystified, Zolan waded through the water back to the platform stairs, keeping his eyes focused on the Birdog.  Then, something else caught his attention.  For all of a sudden, the water beneath him disappeared in an instant, as if a giant suction device had vacuumed it away.  Zolan watched it retreat several hundred feet out, until his eyes came to rest on a new horror.

The wave, Zolan guessed, was at least a hundred feet high, and it extended the whole length of the coast line in all directions.  A low moan, like an approaching locomotive, roared in Zolan's ears, and he could feel the ground beneath him start to tremble.

Horrified, Zolan looked at the Rover and screamed.

"Rover: Can you hear me? Get out of here.  Emergency launch!"

He didn't really expect a response; the ship was still in a shut-down mode.  Zolan hauled himself up the stairs, forgetting about the Birdog and the rats.  He knew that he should try to get as far inshore as possible, but the thought of leaving his ship was anathema.

A second later, and Zolan found himself in the air.  He was being held by his waist belt, so could not turn around and identify his daring abductor But even as he hung dangling hundreds of feet above the ground, buffeted by cold rain and wind, his sole interest still lay with the Rover below.

Twisting once violently, Zolan caught sight of his kidnapper.  It was the Birdog, holding him gently in her giant mouth, and a moment later, he realized what she had done.

Far below, the killer tidal wave slammed against the cliffs, smothering the beach and forcing water up the rock face.  Zolan could hear the Birdog whine unhappily; he did not know that she was crying in worry for her pups in the cave.  Fortunately, the waters began to recede before they reached the Birddog’s home.

As the voice had promised, her loved ones had remained safe.

The Birdog continued circling above the cliffs, as Zolan looked down, no longer struggling against the Birdogs hold.  Even before the waters departed from the beach completely, he realized that the Rover Starglide was gone forever.

* * *

His power was growing, surging over the world like a massive rug about to cover all of what had previously offended him.  He was suddenly in many places at the same time and could see all things everywhere.  The feeling was absolutely delightful.

Still, that underlying dread and worry prickled him constantly.  The dangers facing him were almost inconsequential, but he knew too well that, if not contained, they could blossom into a contagion that would destroy all that he had worked for.

But, unlike other times before, the King had planned ahead.  There would be no slip-ups now.  All peril points were well guarded to provide for any possible contingencies.  Like now, for example.

The ancient enemy was approaching him, slowly, innocently, inexorably.  The Anointed One, the Chosen, the Messiah; the enemy had many names, and had confronted Him many times in the past, though unlike the present situation, with arrogant superiority and a self-awareness of power that the King could not have possibly resisted, and indeed had never succeeded in doing thus far.

Ironically, it was this new, previously unbefore seen meekness - and obliviousness - in the enemy that filled the confident King with both delight...and fear.  The female was dying, he could feel it already, and was furthermore unclear as to who or what she was exactly.  The King, of course, had no doubts that she was the ancient foe who had confronted him countless times in the past, in countless forms and guises.

But why the deception? the King wondered with mild frustration.  Why had the enemy, this time of all times, returned with little or no foreknowledge as to what it was...and from whence it came?

It didn't make sense.  And for that reason alone, the King was worried and fearful.

Well, regardless, he would nip the problem in the bud before such questions might be answered to his own disadvantage.  The she pig Valry was nearby now, floating through the cave right into his hands.  And this was a source of great happiness, for there was no way that the King could see, that the hated one of goodness could escape his clutches...

Following this last, important detail, the King knew other pressing matters were soon to beckon.  There was one last battle to fight.  But this was more the icing on the cake for the King.  Mankind, without its docile defender to holiness, would have to fend for itself.  Not even the infuriating obstinacy of the pig-helping Stingers would save humanity now.

This last thought gave the King special joy indeed.

For after the vermin Man was wiped clean of the planet, he would then have the leisurely joy of planning the slow extermination of the alien insects who dared to violate his right to tyranny.

* * *

The innocent one from the sky was safe now.

The Birdog had done well.

Strange, she thought suddenly; her powers had increased --yet they were only powerful enough to save others -- and not herself.

Death was near.  Or maybe something worse.

He was here more horrible - and beautiful - than any Redeye could hope to be.  She could feel his presence, like a cold wind, and now a name had come to mind.  She had told the one called Rzzdik (she preferred Zolan), the stranger from the Ball what his name was.  He was coming after her.  He would get her.

The Resistor.

Valry screamed, then opened her eyes.

She was feeling very dizzy, and the pain racking her body threatened to force her back into unconsciousness, but even so debilitated, Valry could determine that something was happening around her that was not linked to her injuries.  Fighting for focus against the thin, beams of light lazing down, Valry raised her head in one gargantuan effort and glanced around herself.

There was no mistake.

She was...  moving.

Valry's hands instinctively clutched at the ground.  Even that didn't feel right.  Pushing herself up to her knees, she looked around the river cavern.  Suddenly, her face wrinkled into an expression of revulsion and pain.  Hugging herself miserably, she just stared at the scaly tissue beneath her.

A jagged wave of agony cut into her chest, making her collapse again to the spongy flesh she had been resting on.  Chills attacked her next, intensifying the firebrand in her lungs.  She cried out to the darkness around her, and was vaguely surprised to hear the name she spoke.

Zolan.  Help me.

But the only response that came back was a low, dull bellow from the thing she lay upon.  The slug neither slowed nor speeded up its pace at Valry’s cry, nor had it really answered the dying girl in its own language.  It had accepted her presence aboard its back indifferently; it neither had the interest or the capability to communicate with her.  Moaning periodically, it continued on its mysterious way through the river, ignoring Valry as completely as a dog would a resting flea.

Shock and trauma were taking their toll, and in the next few minutes, Valry could do nothing more than clutch onto the slug's flesh and fight for breath.  Even this exercise became too exhausting, and Valry at last gave way to a semi-conscious hysteria.

Suddenly, the slug came to a complete halt.  Its dim intelligence examined the source of its apprehension, and made it groan with panic.  Quickly, it swam towards the embankment, anxious to get its mass on top of a solid surface.  The slug's dull instincts could not inform it that it was heading into the very maws of the danger it had earlier detected.  Valry continued to doze and rave above, oblivious to the slug's new course towards land.

No sooner had the slug come to rest against the slimy rocks, than its soft skull was abruptly crushed.  It had not even seen the blow coming and its body twitched for one split moment before quieting forever.

A low chuckle echoed against the wet rocks making the clammy grotto more icy than before.  It was suddenly stifled as a confused growl pierced the air.

From the opposite direction of the unholy laugh, the pursuing vampire's eyes beamed through the blackness, staring at the now quiescent slug and the feast resting on the dead animal's back.  Ordinarily, it would not have taken the time to ponder why the slug had died so suddenly, or why now the food which it had been following for hours was abruptly so accessible.  Ravenous instincts should have prevailed, but the injured Redeye was now distinctly hesitant to make a move.

For it realized that there was something else in the cave.  Snarling uneasily and salivating with starvation, the vampire moved slowly forward.  Its vision was unhampered, so seeing in this murky environment was not a problem, but still it could detect nothing to substantiate its own feelings of disquiet.

At last, the gnawing famishment could not be ignored.  The vampire dismissed its fear and gave way to its compulsive passions.  It leaped over to the slug's prone body and extended a grizzled claw out to touch the girl.

An almost gentle pressure weighed down on the vampire's shoulders, as if it was about to receive a loving massage.  The Redeye only had a moment to be puzzled by this mysterious violation, for quickly the pressure became something different and permanent.  Bone and flesh cracked as the damaged vampire was twisted into a pretzel, its arms and legs dangling in a dreadful picture of asymmetry.

Only a wheeze of wonder escaped the fetid lips as the vampires body was then raised into the air and cast into the cold river, sinking to the bottom like a rock.

The chuckling of moments before resumed and grew louder.  Valry continued to sleep, only rolling her head from side to side and curling up into the warmth of the slug's corpse.  She was not even aware of being picked up and carried.

Nor did she feel the blood being drained from her neck with precision care and adoration.  Valry never awoke.  She could not hope to know that she would never awake again as a human being.

* * *

Once, a very long time ago - on a much different Earth - John Phillips had visited the parched, drought-ridden wastelands of Ethiopia.  He would never forget the scenes of utter devastation and hopelessness which prevailed there; the statistics were consistently deplorable, with hundreds of victims perishing on a daily basis, and more than half of these being children.  Pestilence and famine had been the biggest killers, and their power had never seemed to diminish even with the intervention of imported medical facilities and food relief.

Phillips had been profoundly affected by his visit; never again did he believe he would witness so much suffering in a single place, or amidst a single race of people.  Insanely remote from his imagination was the possibility that he might one day finish his life in a similar manner as the tortured, malnourished souls he had pitied from a sympathetic, yet naturally removed, distance so many centuries back.