Transference
Story by FeuerfoxKA8 on SoFurry
A rewrite/replot of my other story, Man Vs. Planet. This is also being crossposted to FanFiction as well as Archive Of Our Own.
A self-inserty, isekai, alternate history retelling of Star Fox Adventures, set in 2002. Marked Adult for violence and future adult situations.
Euless, Texas
Friday, September 20, 2002
9:17PM
By the time I pulled my car into the driveway of the nondescript tri-level house I was exhausted; which wasn’t surprising considering I had spent more than the past twelve hours on the road. The porch light was on like Dad had said it would be and I was less than thrilled to be here, though I knew the house was empty. The circumstances that brought me here weren’t great, but this would be my life for the next two weeks. At least I didn’t have to worry about losing my job over this turn of events.
“Metaphor for a missing moment…” the CD played on as I engaged the parking brake, pushed in the clutch pedal, shifted the manual transmission into first gear and shut off the ignition; cutting off Maynard’s voice mid-lyrics. This was the second or third time I had Mer de Noms on rotation; it was a great album but right now all I wanted to do was get inside and get this over with.
I popped open the door and stood up; my legs slightly swaying with the effort. This was the first time I had driven out of state; making it from my home in Colorado Springs to Dallas in one stretch except for fuel and food. I shut the car door and locked it; giving my Toyota Celica one last glance as I walked around the side of the house. It had been a few years since I’d been here, but I very much remembered the layout.
I opened the back door to the garage, which my father had left unlocked. Inside I saw my stepmother’s Geo Spectrum; the economy car a sight which caused me to scowl. At least she wasn’t around to crawl up my ass about every minor detail being out of place, but I wasn’t looking forward to seeing her again. I shook the bad memories out of my mind as I glanced to the workbench at the far end of the garage. There I found a key to the house, a garage door opener and a folded piece of paper.
Taking a deep breath I picked up the paper and opened it, instantly recognizing my father’s precise, blocky print handwriting; something he carried over from his electrical engineering days.
Adam,
_ _
Again, thank you for agreeing to watch over the house while Martha and I are in Baton Rouge, taking care of Uncle Nick’s estate. I know you’ve been on the road a while, so we made sure the guest room is set up for you. Please call me once you get in so I know you’ve made it. Feel free to set up your computer in the office while we’re gone, just connect to the network hub to use the cable modem. Please make sure to mow the lawn on Sunday mornings after 9 AM and to water Martha’s plants every day. Feel free to park in the garage.
Your stepsister, Gina, might try to come over with her boyfriend to host a party. DO NOT LET HER. She trashed our house last time and Martha was not happy. The reason why we asked you to come out here to housesit is your ability to be responsible and respectful.
I’ve left you some money on an envelope in the kitchen; feel free to use it to order pizzas, get groceries, rent movies and get something for yourself while you’re here. The number for Gino’s Pizzeria is on the fridge; they deliver until midnight. Everything in the kitchen is fair game, just make sure you clean up after yourself. Martha expects the house to look exactly like we left it.
I know we’ve had our differences over the past few years and that you and Martha don’t really get along. However, after we get back I would like to have lunch with you and talk about things. I feel like I lost you as a son six years ago and I missed seeing you grow up. Just know I’m proud of the young man you’ve become regardless. I’m looking forward to catching up with you when we get back.
_ _
Dad.
I closed my eyes for a moment and let out a sigh. I knew he meant well, but not getting along with my stepmother was the goddamn understatement of the century. At least I had a couple of weeks before that happened. I wasn’t particularly happy with my mom being on board with this last-minute trip; the summer rush at the family business was winding down. She had her heart in the right place; she wanted me to have a relationship with my dad despite their divorce over ten years ago, but I still had my severe reservations.
Despite my exhaustion I still needed to get my things and settle in; calling my father could wait until later. I pushed the button to open the garage; opting to pull my bags out of the car before pulling into the open spot. My first order of business was to call in and order pizza; I didn’t feel much like cooking or going out after being on the road the entire day. Afterwards I set my duffel bag in the spare room then headed up to my old bedroom; after I moved back to Colorado my dad had turned it into a shared office for him and Martha.
My dad had long ago transitioned from electrical engineering to computer programming; his side of the office fairly neatly organized but still strewn with programming manuals, boxed software and an assortment of burned CDs and ZIP disks which probably contained software projects. Martha’s desk was, however, fastidiously kept; it looked mostly like it was a model for an office furniture catalog. She was a graphic designer and somewhat well known in her field; I wouldn’t admit it but it irked me to see her work in magazines I routinely read. One of her projects was sitting on the desk; it was out of place enough to draw my attention.
Sheer curiosity caused me to take a closer look at the project she had been working on; it looked like illustrations for some kind of magazine article. A multifaceted stone object of some kind was perched on the table; about the size of a softball. It looked like an oversized twenty-sided die; however it looked quite old and had flowing, delicately carved runes inset into every facet. Considering it was set inside an opened Styrofoam container I guessed it was fragile and valuable; Martha had been making detailed copies of the runes and their placement on the object. Oddly enough I didn’t see any paperwork that could tell me what the thing was; however it wasn’t any of my business. I left it alone; even at nineteen years old I didn’t want to incur the wrath of the woman who once screamed at me for leaving the saltshaker out on the dining room table after dinner.
There was a wooden desk sitting between Dad’s and Martha’s; it was a bit small but large enough for my needs. I rolled Dad’s office chair over and removed my laptop from its padded shoulder bag. It was an extravagant expense and comprised a birthday present, several months of saving paychecks and justifying its use for college classes I had yet to even look into, but my IBM ThinkPad A31p was probably my most prized possession at this point.
The doorbell rang not long after I had unpacked everything, booted up the laptop and got connected to the Internet. My folks weren’t interested in getting cable Internet so we were still running AOL dial-up; the silver lining to the cloud of being stuck in Dallas for the next two weeks was low-ping Counterstrike and Rainbow Six matches. With that in mind I went downstairs and paid for the pizza and two-liter bottle of Pepsi I had ordered. Since my laptop was set up and I had something substantial to eat, I figured it was time to call Dad and let him know I had arrived.
“’Yello?” My father’s voice answered after he picked up; slightly tinged with a Southern accent.
“It’s me,” I replied; my voice sounding more tired than I had realized. “I got to your house about twenty minutes ago; checking in like you asked.”
“Good to hear from you, son,” he greeted. “How was the drive?”
“Long,” I answered briefly. “City traffic sucked and I’m exhausted.”
“I understand,” he replied. “That’s, what, a ten hour drive?”
“Closer to thirteen,” I corrected, eyeing the large pepperoni and extra cheese I had set on the counter. “I’m probably going to get something to eat and crash out pretty soon.”
“Before you go,” my dad interjected, “Martha wanted me to tell you that she has an important project sitting on her office desk. It’s an artifact from a private collection; the Dallas Historical Society is doing a magazine feature on it and she’s doing the illustration work. She forgot to put it away before we left; it’s important that you don’t touch it.”
“Got it,” I acknowledged. “I won’t even look at it funny.”
“Adam?” Dad asked, a hint of concern in his voice. “You okay?”
“I’m tired, Dad,” I answered; though I kept the fact I was also a little angry to myself. “I didn’t realize that driving that long would take this much out of me. I just want to get something to eat and get to bed.”
“Right,” my father answered; a hint of disappointment in his voice. “Could you call me sometime this weekend?”
“I will,” I replied. “Have a good night.”
“Love you, son,” he closed. I didn’t bother replying as I hung up the phone. I knew he was trying, but in the back of my mind it just seemed too little and too late.
Any time I brought it up he deflected things, but there was a time I looked up to him. Before he met Martha and before they dragged me kicking and screaming from the rest of my family. I lasted all of two years before I fled this place, and here I was back in the lion’s den. I took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh as I grabbed a few slices of pizza and a glass for the soda. I had a few more friends to talk to before I could call it a night. I thought I saw my friend Will online; I figured I’d bug him first.
[8/20/02 10:15PM] Instant Message from 00Night-Bird00: Hey, Ad-man. How was the drive?
PaintedBlack04: The less said, the better. I made it safe, though.
00Night-Bird00: That’s what matters. You’re out there until Oct 7, right?
PaintedBlack04: I should be back on the 5th, I’m back to work on the 7th.
00Night-Bird00: Doin’ anything fun while you’re out there?
PaintedBlack04: Not really, no. Dreading having to deal with my dad and step-witch when they get back. I’ll probably play a bunch of CS and R6, maybe do some RPing.
00Night-Bird00: Don’t you know someone out there? That girl from the spirit fox group you play with, Courtney? Weren’t you two a thing?
PaintedBlack04: You mean kitsune, Will. She lives in Austin and we broke up a couple months ago. Met a guy in college and really wanted someone local, I don’t want to talk about it.
00Night-Bird00: Gotcha. I know you really liked her, so I’m sorry it didn’t work out. How about we hit up the clubs after you get back? Seth and his GF have been wanting me to go out to Goth Night at the Underground.
PaintedBlack04: We’ll see? I know you want to cheer me up and I appreciate it, but I just want to get this housesitting thing over and done with.
00Night-Bird00: I get it, dude. Just think about it? I’m totally cool to play wingman if you want.
PaintedBlack04: I will, man. For now I’m going to call it a night. Huh, that’s strange.
00Night-Bird00: What’s that?
PaintedBlack04: Step-witch was working on drawing some kind of weird museum object before they left for Louisiana. Get this, the markings are glowing.
00Night-Bird00: Glowing?
PaintedBlack04: Yeah, looks like Viking runes or something, but they’re glowing teal. Dad didn’t tell me about that little tidbit, looks like something straight out of an episode of SG1 or X-Files.
00Night-Bird00: Spooky, dude. Either that or you REALLY need some rest. If you’re on here tomorrow I’m totally down for a couple of rounds of Counterstrike.
PaintedBlack04: I’ll hold you to that, Will. I’ll IM you tomorrow when I’m up and around. Have a good night.
[9/20/02 10:48PM] Status set to Away: “And following our will and wind we may just go where no one’s been…” -Tool
I looked up from my laptop; a little amused at the fact I could just keep it connected overnight if I wanted to. However, I could have sworn I saw that weird glow fade out a little bit and come back stronger. “Freaking weird,” I muttered to myself as I got up and crossed over to Martha’s desk. Sure enough, the runes on the object seemed to be glowing just a little brighter now that I approached it. Despite my father’s warning I hesitantly brushed my fingers against it; I blinked as the cool stone I had expected seemed to radiate a gentle, almost comforting warmth instead. The glow seemed to intensify as soon as I touched it, bright enough to create a series of afterimages that danced across my vision; they seemed to pulse in time with the mild headache that came out of nowhere. The distinct impression that I was tired enough to be hallucinating this came to mind and I probably shouldn’t be messing with something I was told not to mess with.
“Okay, enough fucking with this thing,” I groaned as I gently slid the Styrofoam box that contained it across the desk; it had been sitting way too close to the edge of the desk for comfort. Rubbing my eyes I exited the room and headed downstairs, making sure I had put up the rest of the pizza and soda so I had leftovers for tomorrow. I continued to blink several times as I made my way to the guest room; for some reason the afterimages of those glowing runes were sharp enough I could see them in detail.
The headache swirled and pulsed between my temples, which prompted me to head into the guest bathroom in search of a couple of Tylenol tablets. I swallowed them down with a gulp of water from the sink; the tepid, flat taste reminding me why people actually bought bottled water out here. Even with gaining an hour during the drive I felt like I had pulled an all-nighter LAN party right after getting off work.
I took a moment to take a look at myself in the mirror. I was a bit of a beanpole; I had no interest in gym class or sports in high school but I biked to school, work, and back most of the time before I got a car after graduation. My folks ran a nursery and landscaping supply business; despite my video gaming and online roleplaying hauling planters, sod, and potting soil around all day kept me from living a sedentary life. Still, my gaunt face, baggy, listless blue-gray eyes and the slightly more than five-o-clock shadow that had started to grow in made me feel older than my nineteen years. At this point I sure as hell felt it.
Hoping the meds would kick in soon I decided on a shower before bed; with luck the afterimages and headache would fade away. Unfortunately I wasn’t so lucky; even staring into the bathroom light fixture didn’t wash away those oddly clear afterimages and the Tylenol only managed to take the worst of the bite out of my headache. Maybe I really was just hallucinating this shit and I just embarrassed myself in front of my closest friend. What a way to start this trip; recently broken up with, stuck in the house I fled several years ago, and nothing but the open promises of the information superhighway to keep me company over the next several days. It wasn’t like I knew anyone out here; the couple of friends I made in eighth grade I hadn’t talked to in years.
With those wonderful thoughts in my head I dressed in my usual nighttime outfit of sweatpants and a white T-shirt and stumbled into the guest room. I’d deal with things tomorrow; hopefully with a fresh mind and no headache. I winced as I collapsed into the bed and shut my eyes; hoping the afterimages would finally go away. They didn’t; they just coalesced into a swirling display of indecipherable text that eventually drowned out my last waking thoughts…
Unknown Location
Unknown Date
The swirling rune-text finally subsided, but I had no clue where I had ended up other than it was dark and freezing cold. I got the distinct impression of being inside a metallic tomb; a hollow, dead place where I had no business being. I tried to take a breath, expecting crisp, icy air to fill my lungs; I blinked in surprise that I could not breathe. At the same time I didn’t feel like I was suffocating; I just observed the fact as a distant, detached notion. Was this a dream? It felt a little too real for that.
My vision started adjusting to the near-absolute darkness; I started to make out a number of faint lights blinking on and off and what looked like a window to my right. I turned to look at it and froze; my eyes trying to process the innumerable stars which shone through the obsidian backdrop outside. Was I on a spaceship? Had I wandered into an X-Files episode or something, or had I been actually abducted by aliens? My breath would have quickened had I the need to actually breathe.
A feminine voice carried to my ears; a faint, weak, listless plea in a language I couldn’t even identify let alone understand. ‘Fcoujo, jkhudwoh; fcoujo xocf mo…’ I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from; I turned to my right and started to realize that I was in fact inside some sort of spaceship. All I had to go by was the ambient light from the starfield and the scattered assortment of blinking and solid LEDs throughout the interior. I saw what looked like a cockpit up front; perhaps I could find the mysterious voice there.
From what I could see the ship was small; its fuselage no more than twenty feet wide, likely making it a relatively cramped experience for multiple people. I passed a set of tightly packed bunks embedded into the walls, an equipment locker of some kind and a combination galley and dining area before I reached the cockpit. Personal items fairly littered the place, as if nobody had the time or inclination to unpack and organize anything. Frankly, it was a minor miracle that I hadn’t tripped on anything and took a header. As I reached the cockpit I realized that there was something seriously wrong.
A dead body was strapped into the pilot’s seat. Icy dread gripped my heart, but the revulsion and nausea that I would have expected to feel was curiously absent. Even though the deceased wasn’t human, she was obviously female. She was an anthropomorphic fox; admittedly I had a soft spot for them from the old cartoons I had watched as a kid. Unlike the russet reddish fur color of the characters I had fondly remembered, browsed artwork of and even created for roleplaying her fur was a deep cerulean blue. She looked relatively young; I figured she hadn’t been too much older than me.
Violet eyes, half-closed and glazed over in death, stared out at the infinite expanse; as if anticipating the destination she would never reach. Her arms hung limply at her sides; her hands not at the ship’s controls. A thin layer of frost covered her exposed fur; for some reason I couldn’t fathom she was only dressed in a simply patterned brown top and short skirt which would have been more at home being worn by a member of a Melanesian cargo cult than someone whose final act had been piloting a spaceship. Instead of the shock and revulsion I had expected, all I felt was a muted sense of profound sadness and grief.
Her clothing and fur were stained with blood so dark it almost matched the endless expanse of outer space the windscreen looked out upon. It had streamed from her nose and lips; her actual cause of death a mystery as I could see no other wounds on her. Whatever happened to her hadn’t been recent; her blood looked like it had been boiled off and left to adhere on her clothing, the seat, and the deck underneath. Spots of it were spattered all over the controls and instruments; inferring she may have been violently coughing up blood in her final moments.
I would have sighed if I had the ability to breathe; again, apparently I hadn’t the need. I tried to reach out towards the deceased vulpine; I blinked in surprise as my hand simply passed through her as if I was just a spectral, ghostly observer of this tragic event. Not even the gossamer-thin frost which clung to her fur was disturbed. It was then that I actually turned my attention towards the front of the craft and witnessed the blue orb hanging in the middle distance.
It was a planet; reminiscent of the photos I had seen of astronauts taking snapshots of Earth from the Moon. Yet for all its similarities I instinctively knew I wasn’t looking at Earth. I had to squint to see it, but the continents were wrong and there were large floating… pieces orbiting it. Frankly, it looked like the damn thing was breaking apart. It seemed fitting, somehow; a ship of the dead gliding towards a dying world.
‘Fcoujo, xocf mo…’ That weakened, pained voice croaked out again; I still couldn’t pinpoint it. It felt like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. ‘Ak xihkj… A’m uvhuat…’ It couldn’t be coming from the dead vixen, could it? No; I saw no rise and fall of her chest, nor movement of her blood-coated lips. She had likely been dead for weeks, if not months.
This meant whomever was calling out was further back inside this ship of death, I surmised. Leaving the long-dead pilot to her eternal slumber, I made my way back through the craft. The darkened, metallic interior felt more and more like a tomb with every step I took. I now noticed personal items; again standing out in their incongruence.
I noted finely crafted leather and wicker bags filled with simple yet elegantly decorated clothing, earthen cups sitting on a counter set next to a window that overlooked the stars beyond; an ornate necklace with what looked like a large ruby set on one of the bunks. That was a complete mystery; the starship screamed its sci-fi aesthetic while its passengers seemed even farther removed from these sorts of technological developments than I was. The only personal effect I could see that matched the advanced interior of the ship was some kind of blue, one-piece suit with matching boots and gloves which had been laid out on the dining booth. It looked like it could’ve come from that cheesy Lost in Space movie that had come out a few years back.
There was a bulkhead abaft the bunks and compartments which were obviously a head and shower; its door was already open, allowing me access to the compartment beyond. I could tell by the simple wooden crates stacked at the back and tied down that this had been a cargo area of some sort. A very heavy-duty door at the back was festooned with what looked like warning signs in a script and language I couldn’t decipher.
However, the ominous feature which drew my attention were the cylindrical, light gray objects which flanked the sides of the fuselage. There were four on each side for a total of eight; each was about the size of a small phone booth. They were tilted at a slight angle; each built into large pedestals which were securely mounted to the deck.
The first one to my right was hinged open; revealing an interior that was covered in what looked like heavily padded white vinyl. There was an indentation that indicated someone could lay down in there, as well as a set of padded restraints and holes that surrounded whoever sat inside. What looked like a gray plastic mask similar to what a fighter pilot would wear dangled from a thick hose that snaked into the chamber; its design was elongated in a way that wouldn’t ever fit a human being. However, it would have fit the long-dead vulpine I had found in the cockpit.
A small control panel of some kind was affixed to the chamber’s pedestal; consisting of a display readout and what looked like some sort of advanced-looking touchscreen. Two vertical bars were prominently displayed; one empty with a blinking yellow outline while the other was nearly full and solid blue. Another readout looked to be twin horizontal lines; again, one yellow and one blue. The other readings I couldn’t make sense of, but those bars likely correlated with some kind of power or battery setting. Something clicked; was this some kind of stasis or cyrosleep pod like in Aliens?
‘Ak'j sect, fcoujo, nx0 teoj ak xihk…’ the voice rasped out, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. Was it coming from one of these…pods? I turned around to examine the pod across from the empty one I had been investigating.
It was shut tight; considering my earlier experience and the nagging thought I hadn’t been able to hear anything other than that pleading voice my current incorporeal state wasn’t going to be able to help anyone with anything. Still, a curved window gave me some semblance as to what was inside. I wished I hadn’t looked.
The pod had been filled with some kind of translucent gel; it took me a moment to realize there was an occupant inside. They were another anthropomorphic fox with blue fur; however this time they were male. The same kind of fighter pilot mask from earlier had been fastened around his muzzle; it framed a pair of glassy, deep blue eyes that stared uncomprehendingly into the distance as if he hadn’t even noticed me. He was completely motionless; like he was…
I glanced down to the control panel to the pod. It was completely blank. I saw no LEDs that seemed to indicate the pod was even powered on. It was then that I realized the occupant was also dead. I inwardly shuddered as I turned away from the pod; the weakened voice still somehow calling out to me. ‘M0... m0 sxojk... ak xihkj…’
The next two pods were almost mirror images; both filled with blue-furred foxes staring out at me with unfocused dead eyes. The control panels were also blank; leading to the realization that the machines which had been meant to keep them alive had become their grim sarcophagi. I looked around and noticed a faint glow coming from the final pod on the left. I hesitantly approached it; my eyes widening as I noticed that this control panel was lit up.
The vertical bars were there; the leftmost one empty and blinking yellow whilst the one on the right was an unsettling amber color; a mere one-eighth filled. The yellow line on the graph spiked and dipped in erratic, quick pulses; the blue line moved far more slowly and with computerized precision. There was flashing yellow text in a flowing, alien script overlaid on the touchscreen display; I didn’t have a chance in hell of deciphering it.
‘Ak ned'k... cok mo rhoukxo meho!’ The panicked voice called out, but I still couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. ‘A doot meho uah!’ Something started to click in my mind; I glanced into the pod as I witnessed movement. The occupant was a vixen; they appeared to be struggling and shaking their mask-covered head. Their suit-covered chest rose and fell slowly and shallowly in an eerie, mechanical motion that just didn’t look right for someone who was panicking and struggling in a chamber full of thick, transparent goo. Her eyes snapped open; brilliant green pools full of fear and panic as they bored into mine. The mask she wore quivered, as if she was trying to speak to me.
‘XOCF! XOCF MO!´ The voice practically screamed; it was in that moment I understood that she was the one who had been calling out to me. The only problem was that I now realized I was hearing her voice in my head. The voice spurred me to action; I had noticed a lever on the first pod that looked like it locked in place when they were closed. Vivid dream or not I reached out for it; only to see my hand going right through as it had before. I couldn’t do anything to change her fate; all I could do was stand there as the vixen’s eyes confusedly stared into mine, blinking rapidly.
‘Fcoujo, Fcoujo!’ the dying vixen called out to me; I couldn’t understand anything beyond the sheer panic and desperation in her voice. ‘Nx0 ned'k 0ei xocf? Nx0 sud'k 0ei xocf? Melos, kxaj xihkj!’ She thrashed around as much as she could within the confines of her cylindrical prison, though I greatly suspected that the restraints I saw in the open pod weren’t allowing her to do much.
I tried to speak, yet just like I hadn’t been able to breathe I wasn’t able to make a sound. It was as if I was simply a silent spectral witness to the vixen’s final moments. Yet; something caught my attention just beyond the vixen’s pod. It was sitting on top of one of the crates; a container had been opened at some point to reveal what looked like the same object that was on Martha’s desk. What was that doing here?
‘Nxoho...’ the vixen mentally called out, but despite the panic I could tell her thoughts were hollow and distant. ‘Nxoho uho 0ei weadw?’ Maybe I could interact with that thing? Perhaps it could somehow help? Despite my apparently incorporeal form I decided to walk around the vixen’s pod to reach out to the object. As I did her eyes followed me; the fear and desperation in her gaze slowly fading as she regarded me with a glassy, distant, almost lifeless expression.
‘Fcoujo ted'k coulo mo; fcoujo, de...’ the vixen’s weak voice pleaded as I reached out for the object, though my attention drifted from her and towards its glowing, mesmerizing runes. I reached out; a soft, comforting warmth radiating from it. The sensation felt wonderful in the cold, dead tomb I had been occupying. ‘A ted'k nudk ke tao cabo kxaj, fcoujo, dek ucedo...’ Her plea was ignored as my fingers fell upon the warm, comforting stone. Her voice was drowned out by noise; an intimately familiar introduction to a well-known song.
The macabre scene flashed out of existence as my eyes fluttered open…
Saturday, September 21, 2002
Euless, Texas
8:02 AM
The gentle, rolling bass riff brought me back with a startled gasp; the clock radio in the corner of the room blasting the introduction to Jefferson Airplane’s White Rabbit. Sunlight peeked in through the window; bringing a sorely needed warmth to the room after my experience with the cold, airless tomb I had been dreaming of last night. I blinked the blurriness out of my eyes and glanced at the object that had woken me; it was just after eight in the morning.
It took me the entirety of the old psychedelic anthem to shake off the chill I felt. First the weird, glowing runes, followed by walking through a drifting, nearly dead spaceship; I wasn’t sure what had just happened. It wasn’t often that I remembered dreams and almost never did I wake up with feelings of pity and remorse at their events, but the weakened pleas of the dying vixen sealed up in that pod stuck with me. It seemed real, despite feeling like a specter throughout the dream. That was also an oddity; when I remembered my dreams this vividly I took an active part in them.
“You are listening to Ninety-Two point Five KZPS,” the DJ broke in after the song had ended. “The classic rock station! That was Jefferson Airplane with White Rabbit to start off your nice, sunny Saturday morning. The forecast for the Metroplex is partly cloudy with a high of eighty-five degrees, and it looks like the humidity is taking the last day of summer off so it’s a great time to get outside! Up next is The Doors with Riders on the Storm, so stay tuned in you cool cats and awesome dogs!” I kept Jim Morrison on as I wandered back into the guest bathroom to do my morning business, brush my teeth and get dressed.
That dream still gnawed at the back of my mind as I went up to the office. I had gotten in late last night; was I just hallucinating the entire thing? Instead of checking my laptop for the downloads I had queued up I went straight for Martha’s desk. The multifaceted stone object sat mutely in its Styrofoam-lined box; the intricately carved runes lacking the glow which had drawn my attention last night. I reached out and gingerly brushed my fingertips against its surface; all I felt was the cool, roughly hewn texture of the stone and the well-defined edges of its engraved symbols. Was I just tired, or was I stressed out badly enough to start cracking up?
I sighed, shaking last night’s events out of my head as I sat down at my computer and checked my tasks. The game mods I had been looking for had been downloaded, so I browsed through the emails of my three AOL screen names. PaintedBlack04 was my personal account; PeakGreenscapes was the one my folks and I used for business, and xXKitsuneFlameXx was my roleplaying account. Will had sent me an email about half an hour ago, saying that his parents were bringing him along on a trip to Denver; he wouldn’t be back until this evening. On the business account I caught an email exchange between my folks and one of the vendors; it looked like they still had our shipment of dish gardens and terrariums on back order.
As I signed into my RP account the cheery tone of “You’ve got mail!” rolled through the speakers. I blinked; that was unusual as anyone playing with me went through chat rooms or just sent me an IM. I opened the mail application to a lone new message on top of the sporadic guild meeting announcements and ‘get-to-know-me’ questionnaires we filled out. A cold wave of dread hit my heart as I saw the sender’s screen name: -AmberKitsu-. Courtney’s character. The subject line was simple: Could we talk?
Adam,
_ _
_ I wanted to say that I’m sorry for breaking things off the way I did. I know it’s taken me this long to say it, I just don’t know if the distance was something I could overcome. I feel like I treated you badly, and I apologize for that. I miss RPing and talking with you. If you’re up to it, could I call you and talk about how things happened?_
_ _
_ Courtney._
I sighed again and shook my head as I read her email. She had sent it yesterday; sometime while I was on the road. I liked her; she was sweet, funny, and cute; up until our breakup our characters, Amber and Marcus, had been together. There was a little hanky-panky between our characters; private roleplay scenes which had blended into a few steamy phone calls and culminated in consummating our relationship during a visit last November, but right now I just felt betrayed. I didn’t just miss our RPing and phone calls. I missed her; I missed the comfort that came with knowing that even with the miles between us there was someone who genuinely cared deeply about me just a phone call away. Part of me wanted to pull that long-distance phone card out of my wallet and dial her number; another part of me wanted to delete the email and block her.
My compromise was to sign out and deal with it later. If she signed in and sent me an IM I would test the waters; if not I would let it go. I wasn’t really in the mood to deal with it right now. That put a stop to my morning plans. I didn’t feel like piddling around AOL anymore, and jumping onto WON and browsing the servers for a Counterstrike or Team Fortress game didn’t seem really productive. The closest person I knew was Courtney, and I wasn’t going to dig up that can of worms right now for obvious reasons.
I could play a single-player game; I’d picked up Mafia when it came out about a couple of weeks ago, but I wasn’t really feeling it. Another thought crossed my mind; something I had planned on doing several days later but right now I had nothing but time on my hands and the impulse was very tempting.
I checked my wallet and the envelope Dad had set on the counter. Between reluctantly raiding my barely recuperated savings for this trip plus the food and entertainment cash Dad had given me I was sitting on about $750; Dad also agreed to reimburse me for gas before I headed back home. It was an impulsive thought, but why not? I wasn’t going to raid Dad’s hardware without explicit permission, but unlike my high school days I had brought my own.
I wandered downstairs to the guest room and pulled a padded case out of my duffel bag; the boxes sitting inside the plastic shopping bag I had packed alongside wouldn’t be needed. With the case in tow I went back upstairs; I brought up MapQuest to search for a couple of places that I needed to go to and jotted down some directions.
I’d hit up the sporting goods store first and there was a game store in a local mall near the house; that might make a good side trip after my impulsive activity. Despite the long drive, the strange events regarding the artifact on Martha’s desk and the incredibly vivid, macabre dream I had, I was going to make up for yesterday in a big way.
Breakfast comprised of me driving out to the nearest McDonald’s to grab something quick and greasy; I chowed down on a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit as I consulted my street atlas and compared it to my notes. I decided to avoid the usually clogged highways as much as possible; driving in the Dallas area was a nightmare even when compared to Denver. I turned up the A/C, popped in one of my Deftones CDs and made my way towards my first stop.
The sporting goods store was tucked inside a strip mall about twenty minutes away. It looked a little run-down, but the few cars parked immediately outside suggested it was doing decent business. I walked in; my eyes passing over the assorted new and used fishing and boating gear on the walls. My attention lingered on the rifles that occupied a section of the far wall, but that wasn’t exactly what I was here for.
The store’s stock of ammunition was quite impressive but I figured that sport shooting was a bit more popular in Texas than it was in Colorado; we had more enthusiasm for hiking, skiing, and rafting. I came across what I had been looking for; my eyes widening at the price tag. It was low enough that I quietly whistled; reading the legend again: 50rd 38SPC +P 158gr LSWCHP “FBI LOAD”- $7.99.
I remembered my high school history teacher, a historical firearm collector who had gotten me into sport shooting in the first place, mentioning the .38 ‘FBI Load’ as what law enforcement swore by in the 1970s and 1980s. He gave me a box of it on one of our recent range trips, but I was used to paying this much for my standard practice ammo. I decided to grab eight boxes; while I was under strict instructions to keep my old sixgun unloaded and locked away at home this would make a good self defense round once I moved out on my own.
After snagging a stack of targets from one of the endcaps I made my way to the counter; the clerk, a graying gentleman who had to have been pushing sixty, curiously eyeing my purchases. “Got some ID for all that ammo, son?” he asked, his voice carrying the slight Southern accent typical of the region.
“Sure do,” I replied as I reached for my wallet and passed over my license.
“Colorado, huh?” he mused as he inspected my card. “Just moved out here?”
“Visiting family,” I replied; that part wasn’t entirely untrue. “I’m trying to keep in practice, and at these prices it would be silly of me not to stock up a fair bit.”
“The police departments around here have mostly switched from thirty-eights to autoloaders,” the clerk explained as he started punching numbers into his cash register. “They sold off a lot of their duty ammo to us for pretty cheap. You a big fan of sixguns?”
Smooth way of asking, but I knew how to play the game. The legislative environment regarding an adult under the age of twenty-one owning firearms was a little weird. It was totally legal for me to own a handgun but it was illegal for me to actually purchase one. I had been given mine as a gift from my grandfather last Christmas; one he had in his safe for many years. Selling handgun ammunition to someone under twenty-one was very much in a legal gray area, which was why the clerk was asking. However, if I was shooting it in a rifle it was another matter entirely.
“Lever guns, actually,” I fibbed. “I’ve got a Marlin that I shoot silhouette matches with back home. I wanted to try out some of these plus-P loads to see if they’ll do better at knocking down turkeys at the hundred yard line.” It was a trick my history teacher taught me; if I say I’m shooting a rifle I won’t be bothered too much. He had taken me out shooting multiple times when I was in school and we still met up for occasional range days.
The clerk nodded. “Thirty-eight isn’t a bad way to start out,” he commented, “and it’s pretty cheap for what you get! Okay, your total with tax comes out to sixty-seven dollars and fifty-three cents.” I handed over a fifty and twenty; thanking the clerk as I collected my change. I locked my purchases inside the liftback of my car; while the DJ had mentioned the humidity was taking a break it still felt like a warm, wet blanket whenever I walked outside. I hurriedly jumped back into my car; grateful for working A/C as I started the engine and made my way to my next destination.
For that I needed to brave the Metroplex’s clogged, winding highway system. Making copious use of my Celica’s turbocharged engine I hesitantly battled with traffic and somehow only made one wrong turn on my way from Euless to Plano. I arrived about forty minutes later, my hopes of beating any weekend rush realized. I pulled into the parking lot of a nondescript, blocky building; as I emerged into the humid, warm air the howl of ventilation fans didn’t quite drown out the muffled pops which came from inside. I lifted open the rear hatch and grabbed the padded case, targets, and a few boxes of ammunition before locking up and heading inside.
This was my first time to an indoor shooting range; whenever I’d go out with Seth we’d usually head to public land in the mountains or Dragonman’s out east of town. The front of the place looked like most gun shops I had been to; rifles lining the walls, handguns in locked display cases around the counter, and retail shelves full of ammunition, holsters, magazines, and a few other things. I browsed what was for sale; deciding to pick up a few speedloaders for my revolver. I hadn’t used them before, but I figured I’d give them a try.
I approached the clerk; this time a man who looked to be in his mid-twenties. “Looking to rent a lane?” he asked.
“If possible, yeah,” I answered, setting the speedloaders on the counter. “I’d like to purchase these, too.” I didn’t get any hassle for my age as I handed over my ID and signed the waiver to use the range; again, it was legal for me to own a handgun just as long as I wasn’t trying to buy one. There wasn’t much of a wait until the current range session ended; the clerk led me back to the firing lanes as soon as I had put on my shooting glasses and hearing protection. He made a quick check of what I was shooting and left me to it.
I set my long-barreled revolver on the counter, set up my first target and readied my first box of ammunition. I decided to warm up at five yards; I had picked up the self-defense rounds for a reason. I dropped the cartridges in the cylinder, closed it, and sighted in on the bullseye.
CRACK! The revolver jumped in my hands; I could tell there was some extra punch in these police loads. The first round was high and to the right; I was jerking the trigger too much.
Focus on the sights and make a smooth pull… CRACK! The second round was just slightly off center. The revolver thundered four more times; each round punching a loose group around the center of the target. The recoil was stouter than a normal .38, but my old S&W Model 14 wasn’t uncontrollable.
I reloaded; placing the sights on one of the smaller bullseyes. This time I was more deliberate; drawing back the hammer with my thumb and gently tugging on the single-action trigger. This time I just about punched the center out of the target; a pretty good grouping all told. I felt ready to take things out to longer range.
I ran the target out to fifteen yards and took aim at another bull; this time practicing the consistent finger pressure and wrist placement needed for shooting a double-action revolver. Being slow and deliberate paid off; I was by no means an expert shot but the group could have been covered with a coffee cup. I was glad to knock the rust off; it had been a while since I had done some target practice.
I brought the target back in and replaced it with a standard man-sized silhouette; this time I filled up the speedloaders I had just bought and set them on the counter in front of me. I ran the target out to ten yards; while the rules stated that no rapid fire was allowed the clerk told me that they weren’t too concerned about someone shooting controlled double-taps. I raised the Model 14 and aimed down the sights; the old revolver barking as I stroked the trigger twice. I glanced to the target; I had scored two solid center-mass hits. Another pair went into the target’s chest; the final two to the head. I hit the cylinder release; transferring the wheelgun to my left hand as I tilted it back and used my index finger to push in the ejector rod. I grabbed one of the speedloaders and tilted the pistol forward; aligning the cartridges and dumping them into the cylinder. I pushed the cylinder back into place, brought the revolver up in a firing grip and pulled the trigger; again, two pairs to the chest and another to the head.
“Good hits!” a muffled voice called from behind me as I brought the target back in. I set the pistol down and looked back to the clerk standing right behind me. “You’ve got ten minutes left on the clock.”
“Thanks for letting me know!” I called back; it was always awkward trying to speak with earmuffs on. I replaced the target with a fresh one and sent it out to the maximum distance of twenty-five yards. The speedloaders were a good idea; I fumbled with them a little bit but they made reloading far easier. This time I opted for single-action shots; taking my time to line up with the target’s head. I ran through the rest of the speedloaders and then some of the boxed ammo; just taking my time with putting rounds on target.
“Cease fire, cease fire,” a voice called over a loudspeaker right as I pulled the target in to change it out. “The range session is complete. Please unload and make safe, retrieve your targets, and sweep any unwanted casings in front of the firing line. Please keep your eyes and ears on until you leave the firing lanes. You may now start cleaning up.”
Thankfully cleaning up was pretty simple; I removed the empties from my revolver, stashed my brass in a plastic bag and took it with me. My former history teacher reloaded ammunition, so I figured it wouldn’t be a bad skill to learn from him. I pulled in my target; very much pleased with my performance and glad the day had been going pretty well so far. I returned to my car, locked my things in the hatch, and went on about my day.
I still wanted to go to the mall, but decided that I probably should swing by Dad’s house and put away my piece. While I had brought it out here for target practice and to have with me for self defense, I didn’t want it getting stolen if someone broke into my car. Braving more highway traffic, I pulled into the garage and stashed my revolver and newly acquired ammunition back into the guest room and went on my way.
The North East Mall wasn’t too far away; I had gone here a few times with Dad to shop for school clothes when I had lived here with him and Martha. I remembered there being a covered parking area on the south side of the mall; I swung around the ring road that encircled it and pulled into one of the few covered spots left. It was definitely time for lunch, so I figured I’d get something to eat before browsing around.
I had to make my way through a department store before I could enter the mall proper; deftly avoiding the salespeople there. I wasn’t here for clothes, jewelry, or perfume. As I emerged into the busy, wide corridors which were festooned with shops, I took a moment to glance at the mall directory that sat a few yards away. Sappy pop music, likely yet another Backstreet Boys tune, assaulted my ears as I committed to memory the best route towards food and the game store I wanted to visit; it was then I noticed they had a movie theater here. Good to know if I wanted to catch a flick later on.
I threaded my way through the crowds of people on the path towards the food court; the journey was blissfully short. My usual go-to was pizza, but I figured I’d go for something else this time. I recalled there was a good yakitori place my dad and I had liked; to my pleasant surprise it was still there. A short time later I made my way to a free table; a drink and a good-sized box of grilled chicken on a stick with noodles in hand. My thoughts drifted as I ate; first to Courtney’s unexpected email and then to the disturbing dream from last night. I couldn’t shake that last phone conversation out of my head. ‘I can’t really do this dance of phone calls and roleplaying anymore, Adam. There’s this guy in my English class that I’ve been talking to, and…’
Similarly, when I pulled my thoughts away from my recent breakup my mind’s eye brought up another sight: brilliant emerald eyes filled with pain and panic gazing into mine; a desperate, dying voice filling my mind as I was helpless to do anything about her grim fate. I’d never before felt a sensation of grief and regret because of a dream, but there was this pang of remorse and nagging doubt about what I had dreamt. It just felt a little too vivid; like my mind was trying to tell me something that I just couldn’t figure out how to interpret.
I polished off the last of my meal and tossed the trash; shaking the intrusive thoughts away took a little too long for my liking. Thankfully EB Games wasn’t too far away; I wanted to check recent releases and see if anything would catch my attention. I was again pleasantly surprised to see this was a larger location than even the Chapel Hills shop back home; enough to have a comprehensive section dedicated to PC titles as well as the current consoles. I tended to ignore the latter; the small fortune I spent on my laptop meant the newest console I had was my trusty PS1. I did want a PS2 at some point, if only for Metal Gear Solid 2; I still played the hell out of the original.
I browsed through the PC titles, but most of what I wanted I already had. I had recently picked up Mafia and already beat Soldier of Fortune 2; Will and I bought Neverwinter Nights on its release and I was still sucked into Morrowind’s modding community. Battlefield 1942 was a tempting choice, however Hitman 2 and Unreal Tournament 2003 would be out in a couple of weeks and I was more interested in them; not to mention the fact those came out after my next payday. So, I most definitely struck out. Still, I had time I wanted to kill and I decided to browse the console sections.
I was somewhat tempted to pick up a PS2 and MGS2 for the hell of it, but responsibility prevailed despite the $199 sale price and $30 for the game itself. Maybe I could drop hints for it as a Christmas present. The GameCube was significantly cheaper, but I was much less familiar with the titles coming out for it. Since I was here, I figured I could see if there was anything being released for it…
I looked up to see a couple of posters on the wall, flanking a TV that looped gameplay footage. The banner above the posters read ‘Coming Soon’ with a handwritten ‘Mon, Sept 23’ on a blank spot underneath. The poster on the left advertised some kind of Nickelodeon extreme sports game, but the poster on the right jumped out at me for all the wrong reasons.
Despite not having owned any Nintendo consoles since the original NES, I was somewhat familiar with the Star Fox series; they were a little simplistic for my tastes as I had cut my teeth on a lot of realistic WW2-themed combat sims like Secret Weapons of the Luftwaffe but I had played a fair bit of Star Fox 64 with Will while we were in high school. I’d liked the gameplay and I already had a fascination with anthropomorphic characters, so my curiosity had been piqued. This next game in the series, Adventures, was apparently being released in two days; however that wasn’t what caught my attention.
The poster prominently featured the main character, Fox McCloud, along with Peppy and Slippy and what looked like a baby Triceratops for some reason, but they were facing off against… lizardmen? Not exactly congruent for a space combat sim. However, what really drew my attention was the additional character standing in the back.
“What the hell…?” I murmured, thankfully out of earshot as I regarded the cerulean-furred vixen on the poster. The artwork was quite stylized and cartoony when compared to the images practically burned into my mind but she looked eerily similar to the deceased pilot I had looked upon in my dream. However, her eyes were the same shade of emerald green that still haunted my idle thoughts. I drew a shaky breath as I glanced down to the looping gameplay footage; a little bit of backstory introduced her as Krystal and that she had come to a planet of dinosaurs in the midst of finding answers about her deceased parents.
I froze as the introduction continued; revealing the same vixen as on the poster riding on the back of a pterodactyl. I froze in place as she spoke; her voice was slightly different but the language she was speaking sounded exactly like what I had heard last night. I was almost completely certain I hadn’t even heard of this game until thirty seconds ago! This wasn’t something I would have seen on a TV commercial, either… what the hell was going on? Maybe I had seen this poster and gameplay footage and it stuck with me somehow? I mean, gorgeous anthro vixens were very much my thing; at the same time I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something completely off about how vivid that dream was and the pure coincidence at how this video game somehow nearly mirrored it.
I took a shaky breath and exited the shop; those vivid images burning themselves once again in my mind. So much for getting away from my thoughts, apparently. I figured I’d had enough of my head being played with; it was time to get back ‘home’ and try to find some way of distracting myself.
[9/21/02 4:48PM] Instant Message from -AmberKitsu-: Adam? Sorry for IMing you on your main, I haven’t seen you signed in as Marcus. Did you see the email I sent you yesterday?
PaintedBlack04: I did this morning. I’ve been really busy the past few days and don’t feel like RPing. What did you want to talk about?
-AmberKitsu-: I wanted to say I’m sorry for what I did. I know it really hurt, and I feel bad about how things ended up between us.
PaintedBlack04: The damage is done, Court. We’d been together for a year and you decided that you couldn’t do it anymore. You found someone else and left me. I can’t say I blame you, but how you went about it really hurt.
-AmberKitsu-: I screwed up, okay? Travis dumped me last week and I feel like a heel. Cheated on me with Kendra, so I’ve also lost my best friend.
PaintedBlack04: I’m sorry to hear that, but that doesn’t change what happened. Even after coming out there to Colorado to see me; Seth and Carrie letting you stay at their apartment that entire week? You were my FIRST, Court. How am I supposed to feel after that?
-AmberKitsu-: Maybe I realized too late that you treated me a lot better than Travis did, even if we lived this far apart. I’m sorry, okay? Even if you don’t want to date me again, I hope I can at least mend our friendship.
-AmberKitsu-: Wait, what did you mean by ‘coming out ‘there’ to Colorado? Did you move or something?
PaintedBlack04: No, I’m stuck housesitting for my dad, my uncle recently died and he went off with the step-bitch to help settle things with the estate.
PaintedBlack04: Ah, shit. Maybe I shouldn’t have sent that
-AmberKitsu-: You’re in Dallas right now?? Really??? Damn it, Adam, I need to talk to you and if I can apologize to you in person I’ll drive up there tomorrow. Please, would you let me do that?
-AmberKitsu-: Please, for the love of god give me the chance to at least try to make it right and apologize to you in person?
-AmberKitsu-: Adam? Please say something, I’m nervous as hell right now…
PaintedBlack04: Damn it, Court, okay. I guess I owe you that much. North East Mall in Hurst, off of Hwy 820. Would that work?
-AmberKitsu-: Yes, I can get there. Is noon tomorrow okay?
PaintedBlack04: Yeah, I’ll be there. There’s a parking garage on the south side of the mall. I still have that gray Celica, so you’ll know my car.
-AmberKitsu-: Colorado plates will be easy to spot. Thank you for letting me see you. I know it’s last minute, but I just want to talk.
PaintedBlack04: Okay. Just understand I have had a rough few days and I’m not sure what to think about any of this. I don’t want to be here in the first place, Court.
-AmberKitsu-: I know, babe. You told me alot about your stepmom and why you left there. I’m sorry you’re back here, but I’m glad we will have the chance to talk in person.
PaintedBlack04: Please don’t call me that, Courtney. We aren’t dating. If you want to talk it over we can do that, but I’m not agreeing to anything other than talking with you tomorrow.
-AmberKitsu-: Sorry. I guess I deserved that. Okay, Adam. I need to leave for a group study session in a little bit. Could I have the number there so I can call you before I head out?
PaintedBlack04: I don’t have it memorized, but I’ll email it to you in a little bit. Is that okay?
-AmberKitsu-: It’ll work, but please don’t forget. I appreciate it, Adam. Have a good night and see you tomorrow.
PaintedBlack04: Okay. Later.
[9/21/02 5:37PM] -AmberKitsu- Signed Out
As Courtney signed out I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. What the hell had I gotten myself into now? I glanced through a text file I used to jot down various things and found Dad’s house number; I sent it to Courtney as I promised. I wished I hadn’t let slip that I was here, but as insistent as she was about talking to me she would have found out anyway. I frowned; this trip was already a giant ball of stress and frustration.
Maybe I just needed to watch a movie and get out of my head for a bit; that didn’t seem like a bad idea. I went down to the living room, grabbed a can of Coke and a couple of Martha’s ever-present candy bars before poring over Dad’s DVD collection. A couple caught my attention: The Jackal and End of Days. After a moment I decided on the former as it had a more grounded presence over the latter’s supernatural/religious angle. I sat back and started the movie; getting engrossed in the tale of a joint FBI and Russian law enforcement task group attempting to track down a shadowy assassin. To my annoyance I had started to feel a slight headache coming on as it got later; I gulped down a couple of aspirin to try to stop it before it got too bad.
After grabbing a somewhat late dinner of leftover pizza I went back upstairs; primarily to see if Will had gotten home yet. As soon as I logged on, I got my answer.
[9/21/02 8:21PM] Instant Message from 00Night-Bird00: Ad-Man! Did you just get back home?
PaintedBlack04: No, got home a few hours ago. It’s been a day.
00Night-Bird00: What’s up, you ok? You had me a little weirded out about that glowing thing last night.
PaintedBlack04: Things have been weird, and that’s only a part of it. Courtney left an email on my RP SN and asked me if we could talk. I went out for the day and she IMed me when I got home. I accidentally let it slip that I was in Dallas, and she insisted on coming up here to talk to me tomorrow.
00Night-Bird00: That’s kinda wild. Didn’t you just tell me that she left you for another guy?
PaintedBlack04: Apparently he cheated on her and she said she screwed up when she ditched me. I’m not looking forward to this.
00Night-Bird00: Why not? You could get her back, right? You both looked happy when she came up to meet you last Thanksgiving.
PaintedBlack04: That was a year ago, man. What’s stopping her from doing this again? I don’t really know if I trust her at this point.
00Night-Bird00: I getcha, man. See what she has to say and use your own judgment. You’re a smart guy, just trust your instincts.
PaintedBlack04: Ironic turn of phrase, man.
00Night-Bird00: Good piece of advice from our Star Fox days. Why is it ironic? Because the next one’s coming out soon?
PaintedBlack04: I’ll tell you later. Right now I need a distraction. Care for a couple of CS matches?
00Night-Bird00: Sure! Anything but the 24/7 dust servers, though. That map’s getting pretty old.
PaintedBlack04: You know I’m more partial to the VIP maps, haha.
00Night-Bird00: That’s because you’re obsessed with that USP, dude. Only guy I know who intentionally nerfs himself with the starter pistols.
PaintedBlack04: I just like sticking with the handguns; especially since they’re fast paced. For the record, the dual Berettas are where it’s at. :P
00Night-Bird00: I rest my case. Looks like I found a good server to try, it’s “Billy’s Bargain Firefights” and currently running that oilrig map. It’s getting kinda late so I don’t have time for more than a few matches. See you there!
After a few matches where I aptly demonstrated the in-game superiority of running around with dual Italian firecrackers just like Max Payne, Will logged out. He was right, it was getting late and my headache was starting to return. After getting out of the Counterstrike menu I rubbed my eyes and looked up; something catching my peripheral vision.
As I looked over to that object on Martha’s desk I knew for sure that I wasn’t hallucinating things; those runes really were glowing. I’m unsure what compelled me to do so, but I reached out for it again. Just like last night the stone object felt warm to the touch; however this time I felt a buzzing, tingling sensation on my fingertips as I traced one of the runes. It felt oddly comforting as I did it; my pounding headache fading somewhat as I continued to examine its mesmerizing design.
I don’t know how long I had been transfixed on the object, but it was long enough that I had felt a strange buzzing in my head that matched the sensation in my fingertips. I should have been horrified at what was going on but somehow I wasn’t; the stone artifact felt soothingly warm and the brightly glowing runes were comforting. Eventually I gained the mental strength to pull away from it; the headache returning almost immediately after I had done so. I winced at its sudden onset and retreated to the guest bathroom; I needed to take a shower and get ready for whatever would happen tomorrow, anyway. Again, I futilely tried to blink away the oddly sharp afterimages of the glowing runes.
I regarded myself in the mirror again; still a little dismayed by my tired, almost ragged visage. With a sigh I popped a few more aspirin, brushed my teeth and jumped in the shower; the hot water a relief as it helped take the edge off the headache. I’d considered going to a doctor, but what could I tell them that wouldn’t put me in the mental ward? I could go against Martha’s instructions and put the damn thing in the closet tomorrow morning. Yeah, that’s what I’d do; store it carefully then bring it back out before they come home. She wouldn’t be the wiser.
I got out of the shower, dried off, and got ready for bed. As strange as this was I needed to focus on getting through tomorrow. I didn’t know what would happen with Courtney, but I was dreading this. I sighed as I pulled the covers over me and tried to go to sleep; the sooner I got this over with the better.
Unknown Place
Unknown Date
The cold, silent metallic tomb surrounded me once more. Damn it; this again? I didn’t even try sighing this time; at least I knew I wasn’t capable of or required breathing in whatever fucked up recurring dream this was. I was in the spaceship’s cockpit again; looking down upon the vixen whose short life had sadly ended here. Maybe I was going nuts, but why was there such a strong connection between that artifact on Martha’s desk, this morbid dream, and that video game I saw earlier?
This time I tried reaching for the copilot’s seat, only to have my hand pass right through it. So, I was still a ghostly observer on this dead ship. I frowned, or at least felt like I was frowning. Why was I back here? What was my mind telling me that was so important about this place? I glanced up to witness the broken orb of the planet the shuttle was approaching; it had definitely grown much larger in the timespan which had passed. The orbiting chunks were close enough to see clearly; having been forcefully removed from its crust. Imagining that happening to Earth was a little beyond my stressed mental state; what the hell could’ve happened to an entire planet for it to break up like that? Was this ship going to crash on that fractured planet? If so, what was I going to be able to do about it?
I took a moment to think about things. Was this a recurring, lucid dream or something else? Will was a practicing Wiccan and knowledgeable in esoterica; we had discussed topics such as astral projection and it made me wonder if I was experiencing such an event. If so, was this alien spaceship actually real and could that glowing artifact be the cause; a mental portal of some sort? Did these blue foxes possess some sort of mental communication or telepathic abilities? It would explain how the vixen in that cyrosleep pod managed to call out to me.
Speaking of, I hadn’t heard her call out to me yet. I wasn’t expecting a mixture of fear and concern to wash over me as I wondered if she was still alive, or had her final moments been spent futilely calling out to me? If this was real, could she somehow be saved from such a grim and terrifying fate? Was that why I was here? With that thought in mind I made my way towards the pods I had found last night.
As I approached, I realized I hadn’t noticed the presence of leather satchels hanging next to each of the occupied cyropods. They appeared to hold personal belongings and clothing, as well as boots, gloves, and some kind of long pouch that looked like they would fit that futuristic bodysuit I had seen before. In addition to that there was some sort of large, golden-bronze baton attached to the surviving vixen’s satchel; its shaft was inlaid with intricate, aqua patterns while the ends were comprised of a ruby inset inside a blunt, arrowhead-shaped protrusion and a curiously glowing aqua jewel retained by the opposite end. I immediately thought it could be like an officer’s baton or a swagger stick, but it looked more like a ceremonial club than anything else.
I felt a measure of relief as I noticed that the control panel on her pod hadn’t gone blank like the others. At the same time she looked like she was unconscious; her eyes closed as her chest rose in fell with slow, mechanical precision. A thought occurred to me as I silently observed; her chest shallowly rose and fell in time with the blue line on the control panel. The yellow pulses didn’t seem nearly as erratic as they had been last night, like they were… wait. I realized what was going on; the yellow line was monitoring her heartbeat while the blue line was representing her respiration. The machine was trying to keep her alive, but it was failing.
Unfortunately, I noticed that the power readout had dropped significantly since last night’s dream. I hadn’t paid a ton of attention to where it had been at before, but it was barely hovering over the bottom of the gauge. Whoever she was, she didn’t have a lot of time left before her time ran out and the pod completely failed. Her panicked, alien speech carried to my memories; curiously enough I could still vividly remember my previous dream even while ensnared inside this one. There had to be some way of helping out, but there was precious little I could do without being able to interact with anything.
I tried once more to grasp the lever that would open the pod, but my hand simply passed through it. A crazy idea came to mind and I stuck my incorporeal hand further into the pod; I could feel its shape through its window and a stinging, ice-cold sensation assaulted my fingers as it passed through the gel-like fluid which filled it. Yet, beyond that my hand found a gentle warmth.
The entrapped vixen’s glassy emerald green eyes slowly fluttered open and fell upon mine; as I could see the control panel I noticed the heart rate monitor quicken slightly as she awakened. ‘0ei sumo rusb,’ her weak, listless voice entered my mind. ‘A row 0ei; av 0ei sud'k julo m0 cavo, fcoujo julo kxo ekxohj…’ I can’t adequately describe the sensation I felt; a faint, azure presence of some sort, brushing against my mind as if I was being warmed by a gentle, dying fire. I couldn’t understand her words but I could somehow feel the emotions behind them; a deep sadness and reserved acceptance as she resigned herself to her fate and concern for the others who were with her.
Yet, I knew there were no others to save; hers was the last pod left and I had seen the dead pilot up front. I didn’t even know how I was here, other than the fact I was some kind of ghostly spiritual presence inside a completely alien spacecraft, and I was regretful that my spectral ass couldn’t do a damn thing.
The warm presence I felt was tempered by a dreadful chill; the vixen’s eyes blinking multiple times as she turned to look at me fully. ‘Kxo0… tatd'k mubo ak, tat kxo0?’ I could tell she had asked a question; her pulse rising as she winced; her eyes squeezing shut for a moment as I felt a wave of pain emanate from her presence. ‘Jfahakj, kxaj xihkj…’
‘Av kxo ekxohj xulo housxot kxo Ro0edt,’ she continued; her mental presence flashing with curiosity, ‘xen uho 0ei xoho Nuak, kxo Odkak0! 0ei'ho cadbot ke ak…’ she was cut off by another wave of pain and discomfort as I could distantly feel her fighting against the incessant artificial respiration.
The vixen’s eyes regained clarity; I could feel her presence strengthen with a spark of hope. ‘A bden 0ei suddek idtohjkudt mo,’ she continued; I could feel her fighting against the pain and breathlessness which she nearly succumbed to last night. ‘ik 0ei mijk fhofuho. Av kxo Odkak0 vhuskihoj…’ She winced again; convulsing as I could feel her consciousness slipping. Fear and concern shot through my heart, but I couldn’t do anything in this state!
‘A'm whukovic veh… 0eih sedsohd veh m0 cavo…’ the vixen replied; a feeling of gratitude radiating from her presence. ‘Av 0ei… mubo ak xoho… vadt mo...’ The warm, azure presence faded as the vixen convulsed again; the mask cinched around her face quivering as even the pain I felt from her faded away. Her eyes rolled back and slowly closed; the only way I knew she was still alive was her slowing heartrate on the control panel.
I remained there for a little while; keeping vigil over her vital signs as she slipped further into unconsciousness. Her heartrate slowed but then stabilized; I surprised myself by feeling relieved that she was still keeping a tentative hold on life for the moment. I had my severe doubts that this was just a dream, and if I could do anything to get her out of this predicament I damn well would.
Some time later I started to notice the aqua glow of the object that sat behind her pod; a subtle signal that it was time for me to get back to the waking world. I reluctantly tore myself from the vixen’s pod; offering a final thought to her to keep fighting before I withdrew my spectral hand from her. Maybe Will had some insight into all this; maybe he could figure out a way that I could somehow free her from this predicament. With that in mind I crossed over to the glowing object and reached out to it; a bright flash obliterating the dark, cold surroundings as music and lyrics filled my head…
“My beacon’s been moved under moon and star; where am I to go now that I’ve gone too far…?”
With a gasp, my eyes opened again…
Sunday, September 22, 2002
Euless, Texas
8:04 AM
“Where am I to go, now that I’ve gone too far…” The clock radio blared into the bedroom as I woke; staring uncomprehendingly at the ceiling as the old song shattered the silence and broke the hold the dream had on me. My head pounded in time with my heartbeat; an agonizing headache keeping me from falling back asleep. My nose felt crusty and ticklish; with a groan I reached up to brush it. The back of my hand came away streaked with rusty red; I snapped upright at the sight of my own blood.
I glanced over to my pillow; balking at the softball-sized splotch of dried blood soaked into it. “God damn it,” I hissed; knowing Martha would have a conniption over the mess. God forbid anything get messed up due to circumstances beyond my control, but the implications of this were very serious. What I’d experienced over the past two nights were absolutely not a dream; that much was obvious to me. That meant I had somehow made contact with an anthro vixen who was trapped in a failing stasis pod inside a stricken ship, heading towards a planet that was literally falling apart.
Will was going to have a fucking field day with this once I told him, but out of everyone I knew my best friend would be the only one that might believe me and have an idea of how to save this mystery fox’s life. I had no idea what was going on, other than it had something to do with this mystery object Martha was working on.
“Good morning!” the radio DJ announced right after the song faded out. “You are listening to Ninety-Two point Five KZPS, The classic rock station! That was Golden Earring with the extended cut of Twilight Zone; your wake-up call on this beautiful Sunday morning! It looks like our sunny, lower-humidity conditions are still with us. Right now it is seventy degrees, with a forecasted high of eighty-five on this first day of fall. Before we go into our commercial break, up next is Led Zeppelin with Ten Years Gone. Keep tuned in as we’ve got more great deep cuts of classic rock coming your way!”
The gentle guitar intro to a song I knew pretty well carried over the radio as I tossed my bloodied pillow, sheets, and clothes into the washer and started the cycle. That would be very fun to deal with, especially as I had to meet Courtney in less than four hours. That and I had to mow Dad’s lawn today; that would take up a good chunk of my morning. As Jimmy Page sang what always struck me as a song about reluctant but inevitable goodbyes, I wandered into the guest bathroom. I looked like shit; despite sleeping at least eight hours I had bags under my eyes and my eyes looked tired and listless; that wasn’t even taking into account the bloodstain that covered my upper lip and most of my right cheek.
“Vixen in my dreams, with great surprise to me…” The lyrics caused me to stiffen as I washed my face; memories of what had transpired last night flashing into my aching head. The strange, flowing language she spoke was completely alien, but it was as if she was trying to tell or warn me of something. It was hard to think about and I felt torn between the dying spaceship which had occupied my sleeping mind the past two nights and the unorthodox yet mundane happenings that occurred during my waking hours. I felt like I was burning the candle at both ends and paying the price; I’d be glad when this not-vacation was over and I could put all of it; Dad, Martha, Courtney, and Dallas, behind for good. After the past couple of days I felt like packing my things, filling up my car and driving back home; however I had promised both my parents that I would do this and give reconciling with Dad a shot. As I stepped into the shower I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that my world was going to come crashing down around my ears; just like that sickening feeling I had a year ago when Will’s frantic phone call woke me up just in time to witness a passenger jet ram into that skyscraper on live TV.
I gulped down another dose of aspirin and Tylenol before making my way up to grab some breakfast; I polished off more leftover pizza and soda. Not exactly an orthodox breakfast, but it was something. Before I went outside to mow the lawn I went upstairs to the office; deciding against my notion of stashing that artifact inside the closet. If that was truly that mysterious cerulean vixen’s lifeline, I didn’t want to mess with it. I signed in for a moment and sent a quick email to Will:
From: PaintedBlack04
To: 00Night-Bird00
Will,
I’m going to be out most of today dealing with this whole Courtney thing. But, I really need your advice on something relating to that ‘thing’ we talked about on Friday night. I can’t shake the thought something weird is going on. I’ll sign in as soon as I get home.
-Adam
With that out of the way I went downstairs, outside, and over to the shed that held the lawnmower. I had picked up the cordless phone along the way; aware that Courtney would probably call before she left. I was right; fifteen minutes into knocking the grass down in the backyard I heard the shrill, electronic tone of the handset even over the lawnmower’s engine. I stopped the mower and answered. “Hello?”
“Adam?” Courtney’s voice carried over the line. “I’m just about to leave the house. I printed out directions and it looks like I’ll get there shortly after noon. Will you be there?”
“I will, Court,” I replied, not really able to put much enthusiasm into my voice. “I’ll make sure I’ll get there a little early.”
“Are you okay?” my ex asked; I could hear the concern in her voice.
“I’ve had a rough few days,” I admitted, not feeling up to faking cheerfulness. “I won’t lie to you; this is complicating things and I can’t guarantee that you’re going to like what I have to say.”
“I… understand,” Courtney managed. “I think we have a lot to go over, and I know you probably have things to do before you head out to meet me. Please be there?”
“I won’t stand you up,” I promised. “Be safe on the drive up here.”
“I will,” she affirmed. “That goes you for you, too. See you soon, hon…” The line went dead before I could protest that. I gave it about an eighty percent chance I wasn’t going to let her back in. Not after what had happened. There was a chance I’d try to rekindle a friendship with her later on, but I had severe doubts that I’d be willing to give her another chance. With a sigh I started up the mower and resumed my task of knocking down the grass; at least my headache was fading into the background and the task kept my mind from wandering too much.
North East Mall
Hurst, Texas
11:53 AM
It was a little before noon when I pulled into the parking garage of the mall; a gentle reminder of my trip here yesterday. I made sure to park in a relatively clear area so Courtney could see my car; I had taken her to Cave of the Winds and Garden of the Gods when she visited me last November so she would likely recognize it on sight. I frowned when I saw my fuel gauge; my tank was nearly empty and I would need to fill up when I headed back home.
Nervous butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I leaned back and listened to one of the CDs I had borrowed from my stepdad. We had a shared love of Pink Floyd; I had grown up with my older sister listening to The Wall. Their latest Division Bell was my favorite, and that’s why I had it cranked up in my car.
“The rain fell slow, down on all the roofs of uncertainty…” Gilmour’s voice somewhat mirrored my thoughts, though I cut the engine as I saw a car pull up in my peripheral vision. I took a shaky breath as I saw Courtney glance over to me as she shut off her old Accord; a nervous smile cast my way. It was time to face the music.
I got out of my car; my ex-girlfriend emerging from hers as I locked my door. It had been almost a year since I had seen her and a couple of months since we had last talked, but she looked very much like I had remembered. Platform shoes did little to get her five-five closer to my five-eleven; her slender, athletic build accentuated by a short black miniskirt and a simply patterned white top. Her light brown hair cascaded past her shoulders and her hazel eyes gazed into mine as she approached; I noticed she was carrying a canvas messenger bag instead of a purse.
“Thank you for meeting me,” Courtney greeted as she approached; drawing me into a tight hug which I half-returned. She pulled away; a concerned expression on her face as she kept her same friendly tone of voice. “How’s your day been so far?”
“A little rushed,” I admitted, not bothering to adopt a cheery façade. “How was the drive up here?”
“The traffic here in the Metro is nuts,” she answered; attempting a smile. “I didn’t get lost on the way, so that’s a plus. Should we get something to eat and find a quiet spot to talk?”
“I figured that would be the plan,” I replied, motioning over to the department store I had entered not twenty-four hours before. “I figure we have a lot to talk about.”
“Yeah,” the cheer in Courtney’s voice was muted as we walked away from our cars. “Are you okay, Adam? You don’t look well.”
“Not really,” I replied truthfully, letting the floodgates open. “To be candid, I don’t really want to be here. The only reason I am is because I know my dad wants to try to mend fences, but Martha hates my guts and I’m sure she’ll interject herself. I drove out here in a single stretch and I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“I’m sorry,” Courtney replied, sliding close enough to place her arm around me; a reassuring grip on my shoulder as we made our way through the department store. “I know I haven’t been making things easier. I’ll buy you lunch?”
“Okay,” I agreed as we entered the mall proper; I guided us towards the food court. Courtney immediately spotted the yakitori place and we made our selections; it was a little difficult to find a quiet, out of the way spot so we could discuss things, but we found a small table tucked into a quiet alcove.
“So,” Courtney started as we picked at our food, “I know I said this before, but I’m really sorry for how things turned out. I know we talked and RP’d almost daily, but whenever I was out with friends and we’d do couples things, I felt lonely and wishing you were there. Travis and I had been talking as friends, and before the end of the year he started hinting that he was interested. Things progressed from there…” She trailed off, likely due to the look that I knew was on my face.
“How long were you were seeing him before you broke it off with me?” I asked pointedly. “Your school year ended in May, but you ended things with me in July.”
Courtney paled; her expression becoming even more sheepish than it had been before. “You’re not wrong,” she admitted. “We had our first date around the end of the school year. I didn’t feel right with letting you know as it was right around your birthday; it just became easier for me to put it off. Kendra finally told me I needed to break it off with you properly, and that’s when I called you.”
I took a deep breath and shook my head. “I’m not sure why you think I could forgive that, Court,” I responded; my heart feeling heavy in my chest as I did. “Ending things with me because you couldn’t keep our relationship alive with phone calls and RP is one thing, but to lead me on for two months after you were dating someone else? It’s not like I didn’t think something was going on; you kept on telling me you were too busy to talk. I almost broke it off with you in June, but I went against my better judgement.”
My ex took a deep breath and looked away; I could see tears collecting in her eyes. “I’m sorry, okay?” she hissed. “I treated you like shit; all for some asshole who ended up using me and choosing my best friend.”
“I’m not saying dating you long-distance wasn’t difficult,” I rejoined, trying my best to keep my voice level and free of the anger and betrayal that welled up inside, “but I managed to turn down everyone who flirted with me while we were together. I didn’t want to hurt you, Court; I’m sorry that you’re hurting now. As much as I like you, I just don’t think things will go back to how they were before.”
“I know that, Adam,” she answered; her voice hardening somewhat. “It’s going to take time for me to make things right. But, I drew something last night that I want you to have. I know it isn’t much, but…” she trailed off as she reached into her bag and pulled out her sketchbook. Her hobby was artwork; having made a bit of a name for herself drawing and scanning pictures of others’ characters.
She turned to a particular picture of our kitsune characters: an intricately detailed piece of Amber approaching Marcus; a downcast expression on her character’s vulpine features and tears in her blue eyes as she offered a vase to him. The vessel was festooned with jagged golden lines; giving it the appearance that it had been broken. “It’s called kintsugi,” Courtney explained, her voice tight. “It’s a Japanese art of… repairing broken things where they don’t try to hide what broke; they highlight it with gold lacquer, recognizing that its breaking is part of its history. I… I can’t take back what I did, Adam; you loved me and I ended up treating you like shit.”
“I appreciate it, Court,” I managed; trying and failing to set aside the hurt and betrayal that managed to make its way to the surface. “I know you’re trying to make amends, but I don’t think getting back together is a very good idea. I’d like to continue our friendship at some point, when things aren’t so raw, but…”
“I… understand,” she replied, a defeated tone lacing her voice. “I don’t want you to hate me for what I did.”
“I don’t hate you, Court,” I clarified; reaching across the table to take her hand. Her eyes widened as they fell to mine; I took a deep breath as I just spat out the words as they came to me. “If you were truly happy with what we had, I don’t think things would have ended between us. We both knew we wouldn’t be able to live close to each other for a long time; you’re going to school and I’m going to be managing my folks’ third store once it opens, at least until I figure out what I want to do. I don’t want to put you through that again.”
She was silent for a moment; her hand gently squeezing mine. Despite what I had just said I was reticent to pull away; I genuinely liked her but I knew that being together like this had hurt her. “Could we… start over as friends?” she near-whispered; blinking tears out of her eyes. “While you’re here? I know it’s not much, but we could hang out a couple times before you have to leave?”
“Okay,” I relented, “We can do that.” While I was a little apprehensive at the thought of spending more one-on-one time with my ex, being able to distract myself from the other things going on was a welcome thought. Left to my own devices I’d probably sit around and play games with Will and Seth, then burn up my gas, money, and ammo going out to that range whenever I got bored of that. At least I’d figure out if Court was being sincere about rekindling our friendship.
“There was a movie I’d like to see today, if you’re willing,” she suggested; giving my hand a quick squeeze before letting go. “Remember that Miyazaki movie I was excited about; Spirited Away? There’s a limited showing this weekend only; the theater in this mall is showing it. Could I tempt you to come with?”
“Just as friends, and not a date?” I clarified, wanting to set my ground rules before anything transpired.
“Just as friends, I promise,” she affirmed, standing up and picking up the remains of her yakisoba. “I checked the showtimes before I left; the next one is in twenty minutes. We should be able to make it if we go right away.”
“Alright,” I conceded as I tossed away my trash, “I’ll see it with you. Lead the way?”
The movie was pretty decent and distracting; which I admit I was what I needed at this point. Still, the overall theme of being lost in a strange, different world because of your oblivious, careless parents was something that strongly resonated with me; would I have been saddled with these… dreams, or visions, had Martha actually followed her neat freak personality and put away that object? For all the times she had harped on me for such things as leaving papers out on my desk or having my bed unmade, it was goddamned ironic that I paid the price for the one time she didn’t follow her own ridiculous standards.
Oddly enough I drew some parallels between Haku and the mysterious, dying vixen who somehow possessed the ability to speak into my mind. Despite the literally alien language barrier, it was like she was concerned for me despite my inability to get her out of that damned pod. The more I thought about it the more I was convened that these events were transpiring somewhere out amongst the stars; despite that here I was watching an intriguing Anime movie with my ex…
…who had taken the initiative to pull up the armrest that separated us and lean against me; her head resting on my shoulder. I had been too lost in my thoughts to really notice, but I glanced over to her questioningly.
“A/C’s a little cold,” she whispered to me before turning back to pay attention to the movie. She seemed to nestle into me even further as the plot thickened; while I was a little uncomfortable with being this close to her after everything had happened, I had to admit to myself the contact felt nice. I wasn’t expecting her to reach behind me and draw me into her embrace during the train ride sequence. She seemed content, so I didn’t protest even as I realized there likely wasn’t any going back to the way things used to be.
The movie reached its climax and wound down; as the lights came back on I helped Courtney to her feet. “That was good,” she remarked as we exited the theater. “The artwork was absolutely amazing. What did you think?”
“It was a good story,” I answered while we walked back through the mall’s wide corridors. “Thanks for pulling my arm and taking me along.”
“I don’t have classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Courtney mentioned, glancing over to me after we exited the department store and entered the enclosed parking garage. “Could we do this again, perhaps on Thursday?”
“Let’s discuss that later?” I asked as we reached our parked cars. “Just please understand that while I’m willing to hang out with you, we are not dating.”
“What do you mean?” Courtney inquired; reaching out to grasp my hand as her hazel eyes glanced into mine.
“You were hanging onto me pretty much the entire movie,” I gently pointed out. “I’m not busting your chops over that, but I feel like I need to remind you that you kinda cheated on me and I’m not really happy about that.”
“I told you I’m sorry, Adam,” she pleaded with a sigh. “Again, I screwed up, okay? Could we just drop that, please?”
“If we start over again like nothing happened,” I reasoned, answering her sigh with one of my own, “we’re going to be right back in this spot within a year, I guarantee it. Again, I’m not saying we can’t try again in the future, but you’re going to be in school until at least 2005 or 2006. I don’t know if I even want to go to school, and if I do it’ll be in Colorado. I’m going to be managing our second location once it opens, and that means I’m going to be pretty busy. That’s a lot to ask from either of us, and those questions will take time to answer.”
“I guess I can’t talk you into reconciling things,” she pointed out.
“You promised that we would keep this as friends, Court,” I countered. “I’m willing to be your friend, but for right now that’s all I can be. Please don’t push things.”
“Alright,” she huffed, turning away from me with a sigh. “Could we at least discuss things later?”
“I’m open to that,” I answered, “but not tonight. Give me a couple of days?”
“Okay,” she conceded, “but please don’t shut me out. I guess this is goodbye?” she asked, moving in to hug me tightly. I couldn’t help but respond in kind; our embrace tight and meaningful despite my rejection of her advances.
“For now, yeah,” I answered. “If you don’t hear from me by Tuesday, you can reach out. I need a couple of days to take care of some things.
“Just don’t keep me waiting, okay?” she rejoined as she pulled away. “I’ll let you know when I’m home safe.”
“Okay, Court,” I assured her. “It was good to see you again. Have a safe drive home.”
“It was good to see you, Adam,” she parted as she reached her car door. “You drive safely, too.”
I waited until Courtney pulled away to start my car. I glanced up to the headliner and sighed; I had stuck to my principles, but had I left the door open or just kicked the can down the road? I guess time would tell. I shook my head as I backed out of my spot; as I pulled away from the mall my low fuel light came on. Looks like I needed to get some gas.
Thankfully since the mall was sitting right on a highway interchange there was a truck stop nearby. I walked in to put twenty-five bucks on the pump; that would likely be enough to fill up. At the same time I glanced around at the cold drinks and snacks for sale; a strange compulsion came over me. Prepare. But, prepare for what? The most I’d be doing here would be gaming with Will, spending some more time at the range, and perhaps one or two outings with Courtney. Some extra drinks and snacks probably wouldn’t go amiss, though.
I browsed through the store; that strange compulsion tugging at my mind as I grabbed a couple of large containers of beef jerky, a mixture of sports drinks and sodas, candy bars, and chips. I made sure to be somewhat mindful of my budget, but I figured I’d have enough junk food to last the rest of the trip. With my gas tank filled and a few bags of goodies to load into the car I made my way home; I didn’t want to keep my friend waiting.
September 22, 2002
Euless, Texas
4:17PM
I pulled into the garage and shut off my car; rubbing my temples as a ghost of a headache made its presence known. As much as my outing with Courtney had thrown me off, there were still other things that occupied my mind. Shutting the garage as a bulwark against the building heat and humidity I got out of my car, bringing the bags of snacks and drinks with me and depositing them into the kitchen. I grabbed a candy bar and a can of Coke to take up to the office.
Hopefully Will was on because I hoped to have some kind of idea on what to do regarding my recent dreams and overall experiences with the artifact sitting on Martha’s desk. I gave the thing a glance as I powered on my laptop; the stony construct giving me no insight into its secrets. With a sigh of relief I noticed Will was signed in; his instant message reaching me right as I toggled the setting to appear offline.
[9/22/02 4:26PM] Instant Message from 00Night-Bird00: Hey, got your email. You okay?
00Night-Bird00: Aaaand, you’re offline.
PaintedBlack04: I’m here. Went invisible; I don’t want to get bugged by Court while we’re hashing this out.
00Night-Bird00: Before I ask what’s got your goat, what happened between you and Courtney?
PaintedBlack04: Long story short we met at a nearby mall; she told me that she had been seeing this dude for about a month before breaking it up with me. Dude cheated on her with her best friend and she felt bad for how things ended. She wants to get back together and even talked me into seeing a movie with her, but I told her I wasn’t happy about what happened and that I wasn’t getting back together with her anytime soon. I told her we needed to start off as friends, first.
00Night-Bird00: Aah. What movie did you see, and how did she take it? It sounds like you left the door open?
PaintedBlack04: We saw that Miyazaki movie, Spirited Away. It was pretty good; she started getting cuddly with me during it. I did leave the door open a little bit, but she’s not going to be out of school until 2005 or 2006. I’m sure as hell not moving out to Austin; if I go to school it’s going to be in the Springs. I liked her, but after her cheating on me and knowing that it’s likely going to happen again I just don’t see how it’s going to work out.
00Night-Bird00: You got to see Spirited Away? Lucky! It’s only showing this weekend; closest place that’s showing it is in Denver so I’m missing out. As far as Courtney goes you know what’s best for you, Ad-man. It sounds like she really likes you, but if she cheated on you I get why you’re gunshy about it. So, what’s up with this thing you emailed me about?
PaintedBlack04: So, it’s about that thing on Martha’s desk. Friday night after I want to bed I had the most vivid, lucid dream I’ve ever had. I was on board some kind of spaceship. The pilot was an anthro vixen with blue and white fur but she had died at the controls; the ship was drifting towards some kind of broken planet, but I could tell that it wasn’t Earth.
00Night-Bird00: Trippy. Go on?
PaintedBlack04: I kept on hearing some girl calling out to me, but in a strange language. I wandered the ship and saw these… pods of some kind, like cyropods from Aliens or Halo or something. One was open and waiting for an occupant, but the others were closed. The voice was calling out to me, but everyone else in the pods was dead except for one.
PaintedBlack04: There’s another vixen in the pod and she’s still alive. She was trapped in there and calling out to me; her pod was full of some kind of fluid and she was wearing some kind of life support mask that wasn’t working right and choking her instead. I suddenly realized that I was hearing her voice in my head; she could speak directly to my mind, but I still couldn’t understand what she was talking about.
00Night-Bird00: She was telepathically communicating to you in some kind of alien language?
PaintedBlack04: Yeah, she was. But, I couldn’t understand her other than she seemed panicked and disoriented. I tried to open her pod, but my hand passed through the lever to open it just like I was a ghost. While she is calling out to me I see this glowing object that looks just like the one on Martha’s desk. I was drawn to it, totally ignored the vixen and once I touched it I woke up.
00Night-Bird00: That sounds like a very intense dream, Ad-man. I mean, I’ve been reading up on astral projection and sharing dreamscapes with other people, but those’re really advanced esoteric practices. Do you think that’s what happened to you?
PaintedBlack04: Yeah, I do. I went out to that mall yesterday and saw footage from the new Star Fox game that’s coming out tomorrow. That new vixen character looks and speaks just like the one from this dream last night, and I hadn’t ever seen anything about the game before then. On top of that, last night I ended up dreaming of the same place.
00Night-Bird00: What, really? Do you think it’s her, then? And, you dreamt the same thing last night?
PaintedBlack04: I really don’t know, man. It could be her? But, I don’t want to even think about what that implies. Last night’s dream began with me in the cockpitt; the planet they’re drifting towards is now much closer. I don’t hear the one in the pod mentally calling out to me, so I go back to check on her. She’s unconscious, so I try to pull the lever again and like in the last dream my hand goes right through it. I get this crazy idea that I might be able to touch her by sticking my hand into the pod.
00Night-Bird00: Huh. Did it work?
PaintedBlack04: Yeah, it did. It felt icy cold at first, but I felt warmth as she woke up. She spoke to me in that weird language, but along with that I also felt her emotions, kinda? She seemed resigned to her fate, and saddened when I thought about her being the last survivor. The life support didn’t seem sufficient to keep her awake, and I could feel it hurt her as she struggled with it. It was like she was trying to tell me something important, but the pain was too much and she passed out. I kept an eye on her for a while to make sure she wasn’t dying, then I touched the object again and woke up this morning.
00Night-Bird00: So, what kind of advice are you looking for? Are you thinking this is for real?
PaintedBlack04: That’s why I asked you, Will. With as vivid as these dreams are I felt like I had no control. I couldn’t interact with anything and couldn’t breathe, but I also felt no need to. It was like I was some sort of ghost.
00Night-Bird00: Wait, you felt like a ghost, or some kind of mental or spiritual presence?
PaintedBlack04: Anything I tried to interact with, my hand just passed through. I could feel temperature and could tell when I touched her by how warm her presence felt. I touched the dead vixen and she just felt like ice. Could this just be a vivid dream, or could this be something like astral projection or something similar?
00Night-Bird00: It’s hard to tell, dude. I know you wouldn’t BS me like this, so I’m inclined to believe that what you saw was either a very intense dream trying to tell you something or you actually somehow did take an astral projection trip.
PaintedBlack04: Do you think that sort of thing is real, or just a hoax?
00Night-Bird00: A couple of my coven have said they’ve been able to experience it. Melanie had a similar experience to yours and told us she encountered a spirit fox of some kind, but wouldn’t elaborate. Michael Crichton even wrote a book about his experiences with it, so I won’t discount your story.
PaintedBlack04: I guess the bottom line is that if this is real, there’s someone out there slowly suffocating in this pod. If I have a chance to save her life, then maybe that’s why I’m there? So, how can I physically interact with something like that?
00Night-Bird00: I’m not sure, dude. Maybe it’s like that Ghost movie, where you have to put your willpower into it? If this is real and you’re getting sucked in there tonight, you might have to experiment with that if you have time.
00Night-Bird00: While you were out I did some digging online. Found something linked in a newsgroup a few months back; does this look like what’s sitting on your stepmom’s desk? Link: The Dreaming Gates- Elaborate Hoax or Proof of Astral Transportation?
PaintedBlack04: Yeah! That drawing is exactly what it looks like, down to the runes carved into it.
00Night-Bird00: Those aren’t runes, dude, at least not Viking runes. Nobody knows what those symbols are. The Cliffs Notes are that a handful of these things have been found and those who interact with them seem to have, like you, really strange dreams. Apparently there’s one in Russia, a couple in Europe, one in Japan and one in Dallas. Christ, dude, this kinda checks out.
PaintedBlack04: So, if this is what I’m dealing with I gotta try to save her, man. I guess the only thing I can do is see if I can project my will into gripping that lever or breaking her out of that thing?
00Night-Bird00: That’s about the only thing I can think of, man. Just be careful; the accounts won’t even go into what they dreamed of, only that they circulate between private collections quite often due to, and I quote, “the mental toll these artifacts inflict upon their erstwhile caretakers.”
PaintedBlack04: Really? That seems a little hard to swallow.
00Night-Bird00: And you mentally speaking with an anthro vixen in a spaceship’s cyro pod isn’t? Totally serious, dude. Don’t screw with anything magickal or relating to esoterica unless you know what you’re doing. If you’ve connected yourself to that thing you have no idea what it’s capable of. I know you want to save her life, if she exists, but watch your ass if you show up there tonight.
PaintedBlack04: I understand, Will, and thanks. Huh, the headache’s starting early, it’s only 7:30 here.
00Night-Bird00: You’re getting headaches related to this thing?
PaintedBlack04: Yeah. Usually late, around 11PM. Last night I had a pretty good nosebleed.
00Night-Bird00: Dude, if I were you I’d get the hell out of that house until you know what’s happening to you. I have a bad feeling about this. That WW2 story they talk about, with the French church that had one of those in its reliquary? Might want to read up more on that. Hell, the Russians did tests and say that these things emit a bunch of electromagnetic energy.
PaintedBlack04: Can’t leave, Will. I might not get along with my dad all that well, but I’m responsible for his house while he’s gone. I’m here for better or worse. What happened during WW2?
00Night-Bird00: Just don’t do anything stupid, Adam. The more I read up on this thing, the more I’m getting worried. I’d read the whole story when you can, but late in WW2 a bunch of Germans were parked in this French church that had one of those objects in its reliquary. Apparently we dropped a mortar on it and the whole church just vanished in this flash of blue flame, like it had never existed. All they found were fragments of one of these things. See why I’m worried, now?
PaintedBlack04: I’ll try to be careful, but I need to get off of here. This headache’s making it hard to concentrate.
00Night-Bird00: Gotcha. Just be careful, okay?
PaintedBlack04: I’ll do my best, man. I’ll let you know what happens tonight, if anything.
00Night-Bird00: I’m willing to bet something happens. Good night, and good luck.
[9/22/02 7:26PM] Sesson Ended, Reason: Signed Out
I shut my laptop down and glanced to my watch; the time was 7:27PM. I rubbed my temples to try and chase away the headache as I digested the information Will gave me; while some of it was useful, I didn’t know if ‘just use your willpower’ was going to free that trapped vixen. What he had gone over and what little I skimmed from the long, rambling article he sent me had just about convinced me what I had experienced the past two nights was not just a dream.
I glanced over to Martha’s desk and blinked; the symbols on what that website called a Dreaming Gate were already mildly glowing; seemingly pulsing in time to the throbbing in my head. The past two nights it hadn’t started until very late. Either way I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. If I was going to try and save her life tonight, I felt like clearing my head of both the speculation around this artifact and my outing with Courtney was the best idea. I knew I was ignoring her request as well as Dad’s to give him a call tonight, but I really didn’t feel in the mood to deal with that until after I dealt with this.
I went downstairs; first stopping by the bathroom to toss back some meds to take the bite out of my growing headache and another shower. In a move that I know Martha wouldn’t approve I grabbed the dregs of the pizza, popped it in the nuker and brought it into the guest room along with the rest of the two-liter of Pepsi I had bought. The bedroom had a TV which I had neglected to use until now; it even had cable. It had been tuned to CNN last; I figured I’d watch a little bit to get caught up on what the talking heads thought was important.
“Our top story tonight is the signing of the Mutual Cooperation Pact between NATO and the Russian Federation,” the anchor stated. “Secretary of State Colin Powell met with Russian President Dimitri Fedorov and top NATO officials yesterday to witness the signing of the highly anticipated agreement. While critics bring up the failed attempts at Russia’s cooperation with the West in the early 1990s, proponents of the treaty bring up Fedorov’s pro-Western stance and his successful coup against the acting Russian President Vladimir Putin last year, bringing up Russia’s value as an ally in the fight against Islamic terrorism.”
The scene changed to a middle-aged man standing in front of a podium; obviously in the White House press room. “President Bush is optimistic in this new step towards peace and stability between NATO member nations and the Russian Federation.” he stated. “In time, we hope that the Russian government sees the value in our economic and military cooperation. Our mutual fight against terrorism has shown that we can in fact cooperate in matters of importance to our respective nations, and we look forward to the prosperity and friendship the Mutual Cooperation Pact will bring.”
The camera went back to the news anchor. “The agreement brings to the forefront ongoing talks regarding trade and economic aid agreements between the United States and Russia, including plans for underwater oil and gas pipelines across the Bering Strait and a general opening of trade, as well as financial aid for infrastructure and law enforcement.”
“In other news,” the anchor continued, “The Horizon Corporation has announced that it is ending production of its entire line of CPUs. The exit of the Chinese-based conglomerate leaves Intel, AMD, and Cyrix as the main competitors for the growing microprocessor market, baffling industry insiders. This has effectively stopped the release of Horizon’s anticipated Hummingbird chip, which would have been the first dual-core CPU design on the consumer market. For now this leaves Cyrix’s hyperthreaded M5 chip, released this past March, as the performance leader in both desktop and mobile segments. Intel plans the release of their Pentium 4 chip before the end of the year, with AMD’s new Athlon revision rumored to release in the first quarter of 2003…”
I changed the channel. Not that the current state of CPU tech didn’t interest me; I had thrown a fair bit extra at getting the Cyrix M5 option for my laptop and felt it was quite worthwhile. However, I needed something more distracting from the headache that despite my best efforts continued to build. Ultimately I settled on a documentary series on the FBI which looked pretty interesting; a bit of true crime to round out the evening.
I got sucked into the tales of bank robberies, shootouts between criminals and law enforcement, and missing persons; the time ticked by without my awareness. However, my attention was stolen by a sensation I could only describe as having an ice pick driven into my temple. I almost rolled off the bed as my vision blurred; the sudden, painful interruption causing me to gasp. I felt a trickling wetness from my nose; I reached up and felt the slick tackiness of blood. I didn’t know what was happening, but it obviously wasn’t good. I needed to call for an ambulance.
I had the sudden realization that I had left the phone upstairs in the kitchen, and I wasn’t sure if I could reach it like this. I blinked several times, trying to force the blurriness away but failing miserably. It was then that I felt something in the air; almost like the entire room was building up some kind of static charge. Panicked, I slipped out of bed and tried to stumble my way towards the door; it was about then that the TV and lights cut out.
I felt the hair on my arms stand on end as that staticky feeling grew exponentially; the air now felt heavy with it. The stabbing pain in my head didn’t relent and I could feel the blood dripping from my nose. I had the idle thought that I wasn’t going to like having to explain this one to Martha… which was the last conscious thought I had before everything exploded into an impossibly bright, deep blue supernova.
Unknown Date
Unknown Place
The first sensation I felt was pain, total and absolute; as if every muscle in my body had decided to form articles of secession and were eager to go their own way. My head pounded and my body ached incessantly while my eyes fluttered open; the earthy, metallic odor of blood combined with the sickly-sweet tang of vomit assailing my nose. I was sprawled out on the carpet next to the guest bed. The first thing I noticed was that it was daylight; the second was that I had made a gigantic mess on the carpet. Apparently I had thrown up at some point, judging by the blood-covered vomitus.
The disturbing thing to me was that the blood-covered puke I was laying in wasn’t cold; it was actually slightly warm, like I hadn’t spent the entire night laying in it. That didn’t make sense; it was daylight! With a groan I shifted my wrist so that my watch drifted into my view. The sight shocked me out of my groggy state. I’d adjusted my watch and my car’s clock to Central Time during my first fuel stop in Texas so I knew it was correct; the hands indicated 11:34 and the date window displayed a clear 22. Unless my watch stopped and restarted, I had been out only an hour or so, tops.
I used that shock to pull myself into a sitting position, allowing me to observe the room further. The light which filtered into the casement window and past the curtains looked natural; not like someone was shining a light into the room. The TV, cable box, and clock radio were all blank; the power was definitely out. Further still were the vertical cracks that ran up and down the walls; cracks which had definitely not been there last night.
A few minutes later I had gotten myself into a sitting position; my joints protesting against the effort as my head did its best jackhammer impression. My mouth felt like I had been sucking on a handful of pennies. I made my way into the guest bathroom; itself lacking a casement window. I tried the light switch to no avail, but at least there was enough light to see by. I looked like complete shit; face caked with blood and vomit like I was an extra from an Evil Dead flick. I reached out to the sink to turn on the water; only the hot tap issuing a weak, warm stream. That meant the hot water heater upstairs was the only water source I had and I probably shouldn’t waste it.
It was more than enough for me to soak a washcloth and blot away the mess. The water was soothing enough that I partially filled a nearby mug and used it first to rinse out my mouth then to swallow a copious amount of Tylenol and ibuprofen. At least I wasn’t still bleeding out through my nose. It was then that I noticed similar cracking along the bathroom walls and a subtle groaning noise that seemed to come from everywhere. My stepdad had been the manager of a home improvement store and liked to do his own renovations; while I didn’t know much about construction what little I gleaned from him was that my dad’s house had suddenly developed some very nasty foundation cracks. With widening eyes I crept back into the bedroom and snagged my discarded clothes and duffel bag; this place wasn’t particularly safe.
My body still aching and my head still pounding, I crept upward to the main level of the house. I gently placed the duffel bag on the kitchen counter; grateful that this part of the house seemed solid enough. Glass littered the floor; the sliding glass door to the backyard having been completely blown out. I quickly slid on my shoes and started to investigate. It didn’t take me long to realize that the scenery had changed.
“Where in the hell…?” I slowly muttered as I beheld most of the backyard, but beyond it lay a grassy meadow instead of other houses. Beyond that meadow was what kinda looked like a jungle; beyond that I could see what looked to be the top levels of an… Aztec temple? “The fuck’s that doing here?” I asked myself. I was pretty goddamn sure there weren’t any of those in the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex.
“Ah, shit…” I hissed, my aches and pains forgotten as I realized that the entire house was decidedly not where it had been just a couple of hours ago. The only culprit I could think of was upstairs. A large part of me thought it was likely a great idea to be armed with something stronger than bad breath and foul language, so I replaced my crusty sweatpants and T-shirt with a fresh T-shirt, pair of jeans and a proper belt. I pulled my holstered revolver from my bag and slid it onto my belt; with shaking hands I loaded it with one of the speedloaders from my recent range day. I stuck the remaining three into my pocket and gingerly made my way upstairs.
I could feel the house sway a bit as I ascended the stairs; it was pretty damn obvious that whatever happened had heavily damaged it. I needed to be careful. I gently made my way into the office and was rewarded with another surprise: it looked like a bomb had gone off. Martha’s desk was absolutely wrecked; the massive 21” CRT monitor on her desk had imploded and spilled a bunch of glass all over Creation. Several stone shards had been driven into the desk and several more had punctured items on Dad’s desk. I was glad I had actually shut my laptop down; other than a shallow scratch on the top of the lid it had somehow survived intact.
The mysterious stone artifact had basically detonated inside the room, leaving little other than shards embedded into the walls, desk, and ceiling. I plucked a few of them from the walls and slipped them into the backpack I had left near my laptop. As I collected my computer and unplugged its peripherals and power adapter I glanced out the shattered window that once overlooked an ordinary suburban street, my eyes widening as yet another realization hit my battered mind.
It looked like the house was now in a valley of some kind, with mountains in the distance and what looked like another one of those Aztec temples a fair way away. A trail and a wide stream snaked perpendicular to the house; the trail looked maintained enough to drive on and suggested that I hadn’t popped up somewhere completely uninhabited. It was then I noticed the smoke wafting into the sky, perhaps a few hundred yards away.
I narrowed my eyes and peered into the meadowland that surrounded the house; my heart skipping a beat as I saw the incongruent, dagger-like profile of some kind of aircraft that had come to rest into the far treeline. Flashes of my recent dreams filled my mind, along with glimpses of frightened, emerald-green eyes. I knew at once this was no dream; not only was I in pain the fact that I had dressed, armed myself and collected my laptop assured me I was fully awake. If she was still in there…
I tempered myself with the fact I needed to grab a few more things before the house collapsed on me. My dad’s hardware was much more capable than my own, and I’d feel a lot more secure running around this strange, new land with it. I wandered back to the master bedroom; the floor shaking mildly with every step I took. I’d kept out of here as I wasn’t going to invade their private space, but I had more pressing concerns than stumbling across something like Martha’s lingerie. Dad’s nightstand was obvious, especially with the four unopened packs of Djarums sitting on top; while I only smoked occasionally I figured I’d need the stress relief sooner or later. They went into the backpack before I opened the nightstand drawer and breathed a sign of relief at what was inside.
Before he met Martha, I lived with my dad after my mom left him. That was in the early 1990s in Alburquerque, and we lived in a seedy enough area that crime was a concern. He’d worked for a software company that developed police training simulators, and had asked the full-time trainer and armorer for recommendations on personal protection. One of those recommendations was tucked into a leather holster inside the nightstand drawer.
I pulled out and examined my dad’s Beretta 92FS; sure enough it was loaded. Two extra magazines were also inside, which I tucked into the pocket opposite my speedloaders. After switching things around so that the Beretta was on my right hip and my Model 14 was holstered in a crossdraw position on my left, I had one more stop to make.
Grabbing a flashlight that sat on their dresser drawer I entered their walk-in closet; I knew what I was looking for and where to look for it. On the top shelf above my father’s clothing I saw a large, rectangular nylon bag. I pulled it off the shelf and noted its heft; it was most definitely not empty. I set it on the bed and opened it; satisfied that my dad’s M1A rifle and five twenty-round magazines contained within were still there. I remembered he had bought it off my uncle shortly before my mom and dad divorced; mainly to help Uncle Mark out financially but partially to get back into the shooting hobby. Mom hadn’t liked having a gun in the house at the time, but I was damn glad about it right now.
One magazine as already loaded; I rocked it into the well as I added the unloaded ones to my backpack. I decided not to chamber a round yet, but the fact I had added my dad’s rifle and pistol to my possession went a long way to reduce my anxiety to a rolling boil. The others made their way into my backpack.
I slung the rifle on my back and went after the ammunition next; a metal ammo can labeled “ .308 WIN ” in permanent marker with my dad’s handwriting along with two others labeled “ 9x19MM ” and “ GUN STUFF ”. I looped the can with the accessories onto my backpack and opted to carry the others. Grunting with the effort and still trying to be careful with the precarious state of the house, I made a beeline for the garage. I popped open the liftback of my car and set the ammo inside; knowing that I was on very limited time that was all I could do. I needed to get over to that ship as soon as possible.
I popped the emergency release to the garage door and yanked it open; it resisted somewhat, like the door itself was slightly off square. I wasn’t surprised, considering the beating it had taken. I took a second to glance over to the woodworking items Dad had sitting on his workbench; I snagged a set of leather work gloves he set there before climbing into my car, setting the M1A in the footwell of the passenger seat and its magazines in the seat itself.
My Celica turned over as if nothing had happened; the muted growl of its exhaust resonating inside the garage as the engine idled. I shifted into first and pulled out of the parking space; half-expecting the place to collapse as I left. Thankfully it hadn’t, but glancing back I knew its days were numbered. Letting the all-wheel-drive system do its thing I cut across the meadow; I picked up the speed as much as I dared. The furrow the aircraft had cut into the ground stuck out like a sore thumb; I was frankly surprised it was even somewhat intact.
The wrecked aircraft started to loom large through the windshield; it was most definitely the size of a largish airliner. The delta-wing design vaguely resembled a bastard child between the Concorde and the Space Shuttle; the large engines at the back especially reminding me of the latter. It certainly looked big enough to be the one in my dream, at least. The engines were the source of the smoke; whatever was smoldering inside their casings rising up into the sky like a beacon. That wasn’t good; it was likely to draw attention that I wasn’t sure I wanted.
The nose of the craft had impacted multiple trees; whatever was up there was most definitely smashed to smithereens. I winced when I imagined the body of the young vixen I had seen in my dreams having been mutilated in such a manner, but if she was in there she was already well beyond help. There was a hatchway at the rear of the craft, forward of what I assumed was the engine compartment. I pulled my Celica in as close as I dared to get and shut the engine off; as I opened the door I felt a wave of heat emanating from the airframe. I plucked the M1A from the passenger seat and slung it over my shoulder; just in case someone or something had gotten inside… or interrupted me in the process. I had my handguns, but having a .308 rifle on hand made me feel a lot more comfortable about investigating what was, by all reason, a wrecked alien spaceship.
I braved the radiant heat from the engines as I approached the hatch; there were bright green arrows pointing to what was obviously its handle. The difference was that the writing was in some sort of flowing script I had never seen before. It just looked alien; it might have vaguely resembled Thai had I been squinting and drunk off my ass. Still, the diagram was easy enough to follow.
I felt the heat through the glove; I was glad I brought them because I would have burned the fuck out of my hands otherwise. I pulled on the handle that popped out; with a shriek of protesting metal it started to open. I grabbed onto it with both hands and put my protesting back into it; the hatch’s hinges fought me the entire way but soon I had removed the obstacle.
The compartment I stepped into was dark so I turned on my flashlight; what looked to me like space helmets, gas masks, and life support packs lined the walls. All of the gear was too elongated and squat to fit a human being. Blank panels that looked like touchscreens were embedded next to the hatch I had opened, its twin on the port side of the aircraft, and a third that led into the interior of the aircraft.
I reached for the hatch release with my left hand; keeping my flashlight in my right but close to my holstered Beretta. This time the hatch worked smoothly; gliding open almost silently. Seeing no movement I dared to let the beam dance across the interior of the aircraft. I gasped as the visions from my recent dreams matched reality.
Two rows of pods flanked the interior of the fuselage, just past the crates I had been standing next to. The nearmost pods were slightly dented in several places; stone fragments were embedded in some of the crates. I looked over to see the remains of the twin to the object that sat on Martha’s desk; something deep and primal in my psyche realized that these things were in fact what brought me here.
That meant… I rushed for the first pod on my right; the one which in my dreams had held the trapped vixen. The window inside had been cracked so I couldn’t clearly see inside, but I looked to the control panel that had displayed her vital signs. It was also blank; its LED indicators casting a faint, dying glow that I could hardly see. “Fuck!” I growled. I was too late; whether she had been doomed to die inside that pod as the ship wrecked or if she had died when I had been fucking around inside the house, it made no difference. “God damn it!”
A flash of movement from inside the pod snapped at my attention; a shrill yet muffled sound barely reaching my ears. Despite the cracked glass I could see something sluggishly moving. “Hold on!” I shouted. “I’ll get you out!” I noticed the lever that locked the pod shut and grabbed at it with both hands. It was locked somehow; it wouldn’t budge. Another muffled, weakened cry tugged at the silent tomb, eager to claim its final occupant. Not if I had anything to say about it.
I slid the rifle off my back, popped its magazine out and stuck it into my back pocket. Grabbing it by the forearm and stock I drove the buttplate into the locked handle. Once, twice… several more times. I put my anger and frustration into it; this fucking pod was partly responsible for my current situation, and I wasn’t going to let it fucking win.
“C’mon, you motherfucking piece of shit!” On the fifteenth or sixteenth time I struck the handle I felt it give. It started giving way until on the twenty-second strike I felt and heard it snap and clatter to the deck. I leaned the rifle next to the bag of what I figured were her belongings and heaved the pod’s door open…
…A wall of thick, transparent, icy-cold fluid spilled out; soaking me from the waist down. It felt like I had taken one of those Polar Bear plunges. Yet, I had been successful; my reward was my first sight of an anthropomorphic vixen dressed in a form-fitting cobalt and black bodysuit that only left her head, hands, feet, and tail visible. Her arms and legs were restrained to the interior of the pod; her panicked, glassy, emerald green eyes staring at me from over the gray, thick plastic mask that was fastened over her face, the same object that was currently doing its best to end her life. The muffled sounds I had been hearing were her attempts to scream.
“I got you!” I called out as I reached for the mask; glove-clad fingers slick with the fluid provided no real purchase so I simply tugged them off and tossed them aside. Everything inside the pod felt like a block of ice as I grasped her mask; her glazed, fading eyes blankly staring into mine as I fumbled for the catches that held it on her face. I managed to undo one, allowing me to pull it away from her muzzle; my eyes widened as I saw the mask housed twin tubes that snaked into her nostrils and down her throat. After the tubes cleared her body I ripped the damned thing from its mount and flung it as far away as I could.
The vixen’s desperate gasp filled the room, followed by another and yet another. The gasping turned into coughing, then gagging as she vomited up a nasty-looking yellowish fluid. She was a pitiful sight; her deep cerulean and alabaster fur soaked with the icy cold and foul-smelling crap that I was now doused with; her tail and dark blue hair a matted, tangled mess. Still, her emerald eyes remained focused on me as she coughed and struggled to breathe on her own; giving me the time I needed to tug the restraints off her. “It’s okay,” I assured her. “You’re okay, you’re safe now…”
“0ei… sumo...” she uttered weakly as she struggled to sit up. Without a word I bodily picked her up and pulled her out of the damned pod; bound and determined to get her away from what had nearly become her grave. She was definitely heavier than the planters and sod I hauled around, but I managed. To my surprise she clung to me as I tried to set her down on a clean spot on the deck; arms winding around my waist in a deathgrip as her gasps for air started to turn into sobs. “Jfahakj, A kxeiwxk A nuj weadw ke...”
“Just keep breathing,” I encouraged; noting that she felt pretty cold to the touch. Hell, I was starting to shiver; I hadn’t expected to go bathing in an icy river of whatever the hell that crap was. Still, I returned her tight embrace; she had been literally moments away from dying inside that damned thing and I could almost feel the terror coming off of her in waves.
I don’t know how long we had stayed there, but her sobbing eventually started to subside and her breathing started to return to a semblance of normal… or at least what I figured was normal. “Kx… kxudb 0ei…” she croaked out. She glanced up at me and I glanced down to her; her dazzling, bright, tear-brimmed green eyes having lost most of that listlessness and glassiness. Despite her fur being soaked and matted and both of us covered with that tacky, foul-smelling liquid she possessed a kind of undeniable, ethereal beauty that would likely draw me in if I wasn’t careful. The soft, sad smile on her vulpine features just about sealed it.
However, practical concerns needed to take precedence; we couldn’t stay here forever and I had a nagging feeling that we didn’t want to be around for whatever welcome wagon that would come a-knocking. I was also well aware that I couldn’t eat cartridges and laptop parts; we needed to gather whatever food, water, and equipment we could from both my dad’s house and this spaceship. Then, I figured getting the hell out of Dodge was our best option.
The vixen’s ears perked; her sad smile vanishing as a worried expression settled over her vulpine features. “A… xouh jemokxadw,” she spoke in a soft rasp; removing one of her arms to point towards the way I had entered. “Ak'j xoutot eih… nu0…” She continued to point and flick one of her ears; as if to signal or warn me of something. It took me a moment, but I could hear some kind of whirring, whining noise from outside the ship; barely audible over our shared breathing.
I helped her up, making the decision to move her to a safer location. The welcome wagon had arrived, and I was probably in better shape to deal with it. “Stay here,” I cautioned, pointing to her then to a spot on the floor in front of the galley. “I’ll figure out what’s going on.” I pointed to myself then outside.
“0ei ted'k bden… nxuk'j eik kxoho!” her chafed voice rasped out in obvious protest, reaching out to grab my hand. Despite her weakened state her grip was strong; her eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and fear. “A sud xocf… zijk wok mo ke m0 jkuvv!” She let go for a moment, pointing towards the pods then pantomiming striking something, then holding her hands about two feet apart. She pointed again to the pods, then held her hands apart; repeating the gesture a couple of times before grabbing my hand again. Her eyes locked onto mine; despite the concern and fear in her expression I could somehow sense a steely determination behind her gaze.
I wasn’t sure what she wanted, but she seemed very insistent on getting it. “Okay, c’mon,” I relented; helping her to her feet as the weird whining, droning sound became louder and came to a stop.
Both her hands were grasping my right as we moved forward; however this time I heard voices. They seemed to speaking the same language she did; however the voices had a growling, almost animalistic quality to them. “Jkhudwo suhk dopk ke shujx,” the voice snarled. “Nxuk no te av calo nuhmrceet ad shujx?”
The vixen tried to pull me back as we heard a scraping sound come from outside. “Rejj ju0 kubo vomuco nuhmrceetj, bacc muco,” another growling voice uttered. “Jocc vomuco ke eikjatoh veh meho musxado, nehkx meho kxud nhosb eikjatoh zidb.” I tried tugging my hand away from her to get to my Beretta, but despite having been trapped in that pod maybe fifteen minutes ago she was damn strong! My only option was to go for my revolver; getting to it was awkward and I hadn’t really shot much with my left hand, but…
…A hulking shape filled the doorway I had used to enter the wrecked craft; it was as tall as an NBA player and built like an NFL linebacker. I was pretty sure the late, great Andre the Giant could have beat the shit out of it, but I doubted if either one of us would be able to put up much of a fight. The nasty-looking sword in its grasp made its intentions quite clear. As the shadowy assailant stepped forward I filled my hand; my southpaw grip awkward but at this distance I wouldn’t miss. If this bastard wanted to live by the sword, it was going to die by the gun.
The ship’s interior filled with the sound of thunderclaps as I pulled the trigger; the vixen behind me yelping in surprise as the large bipedal lizard was lit up with muzzle flashes. With relief I noticed it stumbling backwards; it wasn’t immune to my hot .38s. I felt her let go of my hand, but I wasn’t Chow Yun-fat and had to dance with the girl I had brought. Hoping she had enough sense to do the same I ducked behind one of the pods occupied by her unfortunate friends, moving the Model 14 to my right hand and thankful for what little experience I’d gained from high school laser tag matches and Airsoft skirmishes.
“Vodt kxom evv!” the cerulean vixen cried as she slipped past me, her bare feet sloshing through the gross fluid her pod had leaked out. She appeared to be going for something as the other overbuilt beast muscled past the compatriot that I had just plugged.
“Eat lead, motherfucker!” I shouted in an attempt to attract its attention. This one held a pretty chunky club in its hand; I wasn’t going to give them a chance to use it. I wasn’t sure if I had fired three or four rounds at the first, but I emptied the rest of the cylinder into the beast; my wheelgun issuing a hollow click as the hammer fell down on a spent cartridge. “Reloading!” I called out to my impromptu companion as I punched out the cylinder and dumped the empties; fumbling into the pocket of my soaked jeans for one of the speedloaders.
I caught a flash of movement from my peripheral vision as I struggled to align the speedloader with the cylinder; it was another goddamn muscle-beast. With a snarl I dumped the rounds into the gun and tried to snap the cylinder in place; foiled by a round that hadn’t quite slid into its chamber. I was just about to drop the Smith and draw the Beretta as the ship’s interior lit up like a flashbulb had been triggered.
A rush of heat and a snap-whoosh accompanied the lightshow as a bolt of flame spat out and blew a smoking hole in the third lizard’s chest. I was finally able to close the cylinder as I looked up to see the vixen I had rescued handling a slender, ornately decorated golden staff. My eyes widened as I realized she just pulled a damn Jaffa staff weapon out of nowhere!
“No nacc dek kecohuko kxaj khoukmodk!” she called out, her voice straining with the effort. “Fohjajk ad 0eih ukkusb udt no nacc tovodt eihjocloj!” She balanced her staff over her shoulder, leaning it against the pod she had occupied. I decided to copy her move and leveled my revolver at the entrance.
“Nuhmrceet baccoh nacc jirmak ke Rejj!” another growling voice answered her. “No den dek jocc 0ei; no mubo 0ei rhoot-ke0!”
Whatever it said had an effect; her snarl and bared teeth just about scared the crap out of me. “A jnouh r0 kxo jfahakj,” she growled, “av ud0 edo ev 0ei vackx0 sutj fik kxoah xudtj ed ij A nacc cef 0eih rohhaoj evv!”
“No joo ureik kxuk, rhoot-ke0!” the lizard called out; I caught another flash of movement as yet another reptilian forced its way in. I beat my vulpine ally to the punch, drilling the lizardman with a double-tap.
“Christ!” I shouted; firing another double-tap at the next one to come through. “How many of these fuckers are there?” The one I had just shot still pushed their way through the bodies of their comrades, until another firebolt blew his ass backwards.
As if it had heard and understood my exasperated comment yet another one pushed through the entrance; this time it was hit by my final two rounds and another firebolt. “No nacc dek jirmak ke 0ei!” the vixen snarled out from behind her staff. This time I didn’t bother with trying to reload; I jammed my empty wheelgun into its holster and extracted the Beretta.
The vixen’s staff flashed twice; twin firebolts slamming into yet another lizard and throwing it backwards as if struck by Zeus. They were coming in a rush, and it was time that I put my dad’s semiauto into use. This time I made like Max Payne; the handgun barking its response in the form of 9x19mm hollowpoints as I emptied the entire magazine into the mass of lizardmen.
Alien growls of anger and roars of pain erupted from the group as a result of my fusillade; I took a quick moment to duck behind the pod I had been using for cover and exchange magazines as the vixen peppered the rest of them with firebolts. Reloading the Beretta was much easier than my revolver; I just stuck the empty one into my back pocket and slid a fresh one into its place. I swept the slide release down and popped back up; training the handgun’s sights into the charnel house that the entrance into the wrecked craft had become. My ears had been dulled by the sound of gunfire, but I didn’t see any movement.
“A kxadb… no uho juvo…” the vixen panted, glancing back towards me. “A… ted'k jodjo ud0… meho…” She took a couple of staggered steps in my direction, but the fatigue in her body language was obvious despite her vulpine features. “A… A'm dek…” she murmured right before her eyes rolled back and she started to collapse; her staff clattering to the floor.
I only barely managed to catch her before she met the floor; having to set my Beretta on the deck as I did so. Her head slumped against my shoulder as I struggled to my feet; I had to get her out of this damned place. I didn’t know if there were any other lizardmen out there but I had to take the risk; I was down to my now-empty revolver at the moment. My aching back and legs screamed at me as I lifted her; my shoes almost slipping on the mixture of fluid from the pod and blood that now soaked the deck.
I threaded my way around the lizardmen we had defended ourselves against; taking it on faith that I wouldn’t receive a stab wound or a bludgeoning from one playing possum. By some minor miracle I didn’t; emerging with the mysterious blue fox into the bright blue skies of wherever we had ended up. The warmth of the sun combined with the residual heat radiating from the wreck’s engines was a welcome change to the chilled interior, but I still had a little way left to go.
I breathed a sigh of relief that my car had survived unscathed; apparently the lizardmen hadn’t taken enough interest to wreck it and it had been sufficiently shielded from my gunfire. I took it as a lucky break as I popped the passenger door open and gently settled the unconscious vixen into the seat; taking extreme care with her tail. I debated going back and collecting the dropped Beretta, my rifle and her staff, but for whatever reason I didn’t feel comfortable with letting her wake up alone.
The Celica wasn’t alone; there were other, far stranger vehicles parked nearby. They looked like speeder bikes straight out of Star Wars; again, like the islander clothing I had seen inside that wrecked spacecraft it was damned incongruent to see club and sword-wielding lizardmen riding sci-fi hoverbikes. I had a ton of questions; questions I doubted my new vulpine ally could answer. We didn’t speak the same language, though the exchange she had with the lizardmen suggested she spoke theirs.
I opened my car’s hatch and rummaged inside for my backpack. It was then that I realized I’d left my duffel bag back in the kitchen and the boxes of .38 rounds along with it. I glanced back at the house; relieved to see it hadn’t collapsed and that there weren’t more of those lizardman hoverbikes parked outside. With shaking hands I reloaded the revolver with its penultimate speedloader and plucked one of those packs of kreteks out of my backpack. I also kept my Zippo in there; away from my folks’ sometimes prying eyes. It wasn’t a habit they approved of, but right now I didn’t give a damn.
I leaned against the driver’s side rear tire; it took four attempts but I finally stilled my hands enough to light the clove cigarette. As I inhaled the spicy-sweet smoke I had time to contemplate my situation. I was stranded, but where? Alternate dimension, like that Human Memoirs story I read a couple years back? Funny my mind should bring that tale up. Alien planet, perhaps? Considering the wrecked spacecraft sitting twenty yards away that wasn’t implausible. Some sort of fever dream? Somehow I doubted that; some of these details lined up far too well.
The implications of what just happened hit me like a cement truck. I probably wasn’t going to see any of my family and friends again. Mom, my stepdad, Ben, my sister, Melanie, Will, Seth, Courtney… even Dad and Martha. Other than Will, who might be able to figure out what really happened, I’d probably be considered dead. I took a deep drag on the cigarette as I shut my eyes; why the fuck was I here? Was there any kind of sense or purpose to this?
My thoughts drifted back to the anthropomorphic vixen who was sitting unconscious in the passenger seat of my car. I saved her life, right? Wasn’t that worth something? I’d tried to get her to hide behind me when the lizardmen busted in; instead she picked up that staff weapon and went Teal’c on their asses. Would I have been able to hold the bastards off otherwise? I wasn’t so confident about that. We were in the same boat; stranded wherever the hell we were. I mused on that as I took another crackling drag off the cigarette. Wait… that broken-up planet I saw in my dreams! That’s where we were!
“Jumping Jesus H. Christ on a pogo stick with a motherfucking whole wheat cracker,” I hissed, looking over the alien landscape while I finished the dregs of my cigarette. I stubbed the butt out on the ground; stamping it out after I stood up for good measure. No sense in starting a fire. I glanced inside the car; my unexpected vulpine companion starting to stir.
I reached the passenger door in a few strides just before she blinked her eyes open. “Nx… nxoho uho no?” she confusedly rasped. “0ei rheiwxk mo xoho. Ak aj nuhm…” Another soft, sad smile tugged at her lips as I popped open the door and squatted on the ground next to her.
“You feeling okay?” I asked, my eyes falling on hers. While I knew we couldn’t understand each other, perhaps I could fumble my way through communicating with her. “Hungry? Thirsty?” I pantomimed taking bites out of something and drinking out of a bottle of water. I figured she was; after throwing up the remains of my pizza dinner I was starting to get hungry again. We could both use a chance to clean off; that cold, thick fluid had dried all over her clothes and now that I was thinking more clearly the crustiness in my jeans was going to become an annoyance pretty quickly.
Her eyes widened and she nodded enthusiastically. “Fcoujo,” she squeaked. “Av 0ei xulo veet udt nukoh ke jxuho, A neict ro whukovic…” I took that as a yes.
“We’ll head over to what’s left of my dad’s place and get some grub,” I assured her. “But first, I’m going to get our hardware out of that ship.” I pointed to me, then to the ship, then finished up with acting like I was shooting a gun and twirling a staff. Yet, as I rose to my feet and started to turn away I was surprised as her hand reached out to grasp mine.
“Dek 0ok,” she spoke in an insistent tone. “A hovijo ke succ jemoedo nxe julot m0 cavo udt veiwxk rojato mo u jkhudwoh. A najx ke bden 0eih dumo…” Her brilliant, emerald green eyes gazed into mine deeply enough that it felt like she was peering into my soul, but all I could do was stare at her blankly.
After a moment she shook her head and pointed to herself. “Mo,” she uttered, repeating the gesture. She pointed to me next. “0ei,” she continued, before pointing back to herself. “Mo. Krystal.” As what she was doing dawned on me, she pointed to me again. “Oei?”
Her name was Krystal, just like from that game? Either that was a huge coincidence or there were some massive implications that I didn’t want to even think about right now. Still, I realized that she was asking me for my name and I should probably oblige her. “Your name is Krystal?” I asked, pointing to her. Her smile widened and she nodded; pointing to me in return. “Adam,” I revealed. “My name is Adam.”
“Adam,” she tried my name on for size; repeating it a couple of times for effect. I didn’t really like hearing the sound of my own name, but I had to admit with her accent it sounded almost exotic. “A bden 0ei suddek idtohjkudt mo, 0ok kxudb 0ei veh juladw m0 cavo. A um jehh0 A rheiwxk 0ei adke kxaj r0 adkohuskadw nakx kxo Odkak0, 0ok A sud'k xocf rik vooc whukovic 0ei udjnohot akj succ.” She squeezed my hand once more before letting go. “Fcoujo, wukxoh nxuk 0ei doot. A ted'k najx ke amfejo, rik A vooc no rekx seict ijo jijkodudso.”
I wasn’t sure what she said beyond the word ‘0ei’ likely referring to me directly, but her tone of voice sounded grateful and almost apologetic. “Just a moment,” I replied. “Let me get our stuff and I’ll return.” I turned away and went back into the wrecked craft. Finding what I needed didn’t take long; I gathered up my Beretta, dropped flashlight and fluid-coated gloves before retrieving my M1A and slinging it on my back. The leather satchel that hung next to her pod seemed of some importance so I made sure to take it, as well as the boots, gloves, and some sort of pouch that matched the bodysuit she wore.
I bent down to pick up her staff, which had shrunk down to a much smaller size; I now recognized it as the batonlike object that had been strapped to the satchel. As soon as I grabbed it, however, it tingled; the weapon feeling unusually warm in my hand. It felt like there was some kind of presence within; something not quite sentient but supernaturally aware. I felt like I was being judged by it for a moment and found to be not quite up to par, yet accepted enough that it wasn’t going to burn me to a crisp or turn me into a newt or something. I openly wondered if that was because I had just saved the life of its owner; surprisingly a pulse of warmth that I felt in my hand was the unexpected answer.
I emerged from the wrecked craft with our combined things in tow; as I approached my car the vixen looked up, the pensive, brooding expression on her features disappearing into a slight smile as I handed her the things I had gathered. “Kxudb 0ei, Adam,” she addressed me by name, “A xutd'k opfoskot 0ei ke rhadw m0 rocedwadwj. A'm jkacc dek ijot ke nouhadw edo ev kxojo jiakj…”
I gently shut the passenger door and walked around the car; storing the M1A behind the front seats before sliding into the driver’s seat. “Ready to get some food?” I asked, pantomiming taking a bite. At her eager nod I started the car, the noise from the exhaust causing her to startle. “No worries, it’s totally normal. I’m going to drive us over there.” I pointed towards my dad’s house, then to the dashboard a couple of times; hoping I made the point clear.
She stared at me a moment and nodded; pointing to the house then pantomiming taking a bite of food just like I had. I smiled and nodded back as I put the Celica into first gear and eased off the clutch. I made a slow, gentle circle to turn the car around, then started heading back to the house.
Unknown Location
Unknown Date
Unknown Time
I pulled my car back into the driveway; not willing to brave putting it into the garage of a house which would likely collapse at some point. My new vulpine ally glanced at the structure with a mix of cautious curiosity; she pointed to me then to the house. “0eih… tnoccadw?” she asked. “Nuj ak rheiwxk xoho ucedw nakx 0ei?”
“My old man’s place,” I explained, spurred on by her pointing and curious expression. I knew we couldn’t understand each other, but I figured that perhaps conversing would help put her at ease. “I was housesitting when, well… this happened.” I motioned all around us as I shut the car and got out. The vixen mirrored my actions; finding the location of the somewhat unconventional door handle more easily than most passengers did. I hadn’t even needed to point to it and operate it as a demonstration. As she exited I noticed she carried her staff and the bag of her belongings; I decided to leave the M1A in the car.
She followed me into the garage; giving Martha’s car a curious look before giving the workbench a more thorough glance. As I walked into the kitchen I motioned to the broken glass on the floor; pointing to the glass first, then to her bare feet before making a slicing motion across my palm. Curiously, I noted that while her hands had an identical four fingers and an opposable thumb she only had four toes; each tipped with a blunt, brown claw.
“Ted'k nehh0,” she spoke, mirroring my pointing to the glass shards then to her feet. “A'cc ro suhovic.” We skirted the mess as I made my way to the duffel bag; it was then that I realized the fluid from her pod had soaked most of my clothes as well as hers. I felt crusty and miserable; I figured by the state of her matted fur that she was as well.
“Do you want to try washing up before we eat?” I asked as I pulled out another set of jeans; this time selecting a black concert T-shirt that my stepdad got from the old Stones’ Voodoo Lounge tour several years ago. Again I tried to communicate via pantomime; mimicking washing my hair and toweling off. Since the heater sat above the bathroom I figured that it would still work with the water cut off, at least until the supply ran out.
Her eyes lit up and she nodded rapidly; running her fingers through her matted hair and frowning. I’d avoided getting any of the crap in my hair, but I could only imagine how bad it was being covered in fur and having all that crap stuck in it. I motioned her to follow me as I made my way downstairs. I popped into the bathroom and set up the flashlight on top of the sink; turning it on to give a little light to the darkened room.
“I don’t know how much water is left in the tank,” I advised as I pointed to the tap and made a twisting motion, “but this is how you turn it on. I’ll leave the shampoo here in the tub and the towels are over there…” I trailed off as I glanced back to her during my pantomiming; a blush rising to my cheeks as I witnessed her starting to unzip her flightsuit, seemingly unreserved about undressing right in front of me. “Woah, wait, wait!” I interrupted, putting my hands up to stop her. “Let me give you some privacy, first?”
She blinked as she stopped midway; the open fastener giving me an unprompted glimpse of her alabaster-furred cleavage. My cheeks burned as I quickly averted my gaze up to her face; a confused expression taking shape on her vulpine features. “Aj oloh0kxadw ebu0, Adam?” she spoke an obvious inquiry. “A kxeiwxk 0ei najxot ke scoud if; um A majkubod?” She paused for a moment before she gave me a sheepish look; I noticed the insides of her ears turning pink. Was that how she blushed? “Ex, jfahakj! A ufecewaqo; A vehwek Lylatians uho vuh meho… fhaluko nxod ak semoj ke rukxadw!”
“Let me leave you to it,” I insisted, making my point clear by motioning her to the tub before pointing to myself and then the door. I gently pulled it closed while I made my way into the bedroom; after hearing the water start I locked the door, stripped down, and put on yet another set of unsoiled clothes. I’d chalk that particular event up to a cultural misunderstanding, at any rate; an awkward cherry on top of a day that started out with a movie date with an ex I hadn’t really wanted to see again and ended with my having killed several aggressive yet sentient beings alongside a mysterious vixen whose life I had just saved. Said vixen was currently taking a shower in the next room, and I was resisting the urge to burn another cigarette.
The shower was still going as I went back upstairs to the kitchen; keeping a close ear on the state of the not quite stable house I grabbed the broom and swept what glass I could onto the back patio and out of danger of cutting my unexpected guest’s feet. With that out of the way I checked the fridge; apparently not much time had passed because even with the power out things were still cold. I quickly scavenged all the nonperishable stuff to take with us, but also set out what was perishable and could be eaten cold; that meant lunch meat sandwiches. I laid out what I’d found in the fridge; I wasn’t sure what kinds of foods she could tolerate so I stuck to what I figured were safe for dogs. Not only was her anatomy working against me, I couldn’t easily tell her what might not be a good idea to imbibe.
I could hear the flow of water weaken over a period of time then finally halt; I figured that was all she wrote for what was stored in the heater. I wasn’t too worried; thankfully there was a good deal of bottled water stored in the house and it wasn’t like we were in the middle of a desert. I figured she’d need ample time to dry off; time I spent by filling trash bags with the nonperishables I had found. Martha was hypoglycemic, so along with the canned goods from the pantry and junk food I’d bought earlier there were a ton of candy bars, breakfast bars, and other sweet snacks to be had. An errant thought led me to the living room; while my laptop’s battery life was atrocious if I ever got the chance to charge it I figured some more DVDs wouldn’t go amiss. So, Dad’s collection of action movies and comedies as well as Martha’s X-Files DVD sets were quickly added to the big CD binder I had in my duffle bag; thankfully it didn’t add too much space.
I’d finished with my kitchen and movie raids when I heard the door to the guest bathroom open; I glanced over to the stairwell to witness a sight that made my eyes widen. Her cerulean and snow-white fur was damp yet well-brushed; her tail was no longer the matted, slicked-down mess I had seen before and looked luxuriously fluffy, though cuffed with two silver bands. Instead of the form-fitting flightsuit she wore an outfit similar to the one I had seen on the unlucky vixen at the controls: an ornately-patterned gold and white bra-like top and a matching loincloth adorned her petite frame; a pair of sandals completed her simple outfit.
The ensemble revealed sets of markings around her arms and on her thighs; a simple pattern on the former and a spiral pattern on the latter. I was surprised to see her sporting jewelry; what looked like a bronze choker with an emerald pendant around her neck giving her simple outfit a more sophisticated air. She carried her satchel in one hand; the suit she had worn in the pod was grasped in her other, still slightly dripping on a floor I no longer had reason to care about. My initial thoughts blindsided me; she was goddamned cute!
A gentle smile tugged at her lips as she walked up to the kitchen island, draping her belongings over an unused chair. “A ufecewaqo veh ijadw ucc kxo nukoh,” she spoke while pointing downstairs, “rik A uffhosauko 0ei cokkadw mo nujx evv kxuk s0hevciat roveho ak jok kee rutc0. Aj kxaj veh ij?” she motioned to the spread I had set out while she was bathing.
“It’s not fancy,” I replied, pointing to the food, “but it’s something to eat. I just don’t know what’s safe for you, so please be cautious.” I pointed to the glass of milk I had set next to me; pointing to myself and taking a drink with a smile. I raised the glass and pointed to her, shaking my head and pantomimed throwing up.
“A… kxadb A idtohjkudt,” she replied; mimicking my movements. “Kxuk aj jemokxadw 0ei sud thadb, rik mawxk mubo mo jasb? Kxaj aj juvo, hawxk?” She pointed to a bottle of water; I nodded and smiled. When she pointed to a can of Pepsi with an inquisitive look, I pointed to her and shrugged; I didn’t know if she could tolerate soda. “Mu0 A kh0?”
She seemed interested, so I popped the top and poured a little bit into a glass. She took a sip and her eyes lit up like a kid’s on Christmas. “R0 Melos, kxaj aj kujk0!” she exclaimed; taking a moment before nudging her glass towards the can. “Mu0 A xulo meho?” At her prompting I poured more soda into the glass; that one line from that Cake song coming to mind. Some vixens drink Pepsi, some vixens drink Coke...
I pointed to the sandwich fixings I had set out; I guess I was going to give her a taste test of what I had. That took a little bit; her pointing towards things and miming if they were safe to eat. While I wasn’t an expert I’d taken care of Sara, my mom’s Sheltie, since my freshman year and had a decent idea of what to keep her away from at all costs. Krystal seemed to enjoy Pepsi and Doritos, which would have endeared her to my D&D group, but I did warn her away from the candy bars. By the end of it we sat munching away on several plain sandwiches, chips, and our beverages of choice.
“Uwuad, kxudb 0ei veh jxuhadw 0eih veet nakx mo,” Krystal spoke; despite the language barrier I could easily tell by her smile and gently wagging tail she was appreciative of what my watch told me would have been a midnight kitchen raid. “0ei najx ke wukxoh jiffcaoj vhem 0eih tnoccadw udt m0… jxaf, hawxk?” She pointed to the bags I had collected, then to us, then to the house. She seemed to understand what I was trying to do.
“We’ll need to find anything useful and get out of here with the quickness,” I explained, even if my vulpine companion couldn’t understand English. “I want to be out of here before anyone comes looking for those lizards we just murked.” I wasn’t even sure how to pantomime all that out; her confused look followed by a hesitant nod were all the indication I needed that she didn’t quite follow.
I slowly ascended the creaking, groaning stairs; while I didn’t think there was anything left up there I wanted to be thorough, somehow I doubted the house would be standing in a few days’ time. I did find a few more towels and a couple of blankets in the master bedroom’s closet; while Dallas wasn’t the coldest place in the country I also grabbed my dad’s leather jacket. He was a little taller than me and the jacket’s fit was a little loose, but it would break the wind if nothing else. I could tell Krystal was both taller and thinner than Martha; hell, not counting her ears she almost reached my 5’11. Still, nothing that fit my stepmother would fit her.
I entered the office to see if anything else would be of use; I started searching through my father’s desk drawers for tools or anything else that caught my attention. A gasp caused me to look up; Krystal was standing next to Martha’s desk and looking at the remains of the stone object which had given me so much grief. “0ei xut ud Odkak0 xoho,” she spoke; her expression wavering between grief and fear. “Av m0 housxadw eik sedkuskot kxaj Odkak0, kxod kxuk moudj kxo edo roadw medakehot uk Balthol nuj urudtedot…”
“Everything okay?” I asked; pointing to her as I cast a concerned glance in her direction.
The vixen’s response was to shake her head; her cheerful, curious expression from moments ago having completely vanished. “A… A mu0 ro kxo cujk ev m0 foefco…” she trailed off; tears filling her eyes as she leaned on the desk to steady herself. “No… vuacot…”
“I… don’t understand,” I replied. I really didn’t; I could tell she was upset, but due to the language barrier I had no idea why. “Did something just happen?”
She sighed and frowned; raising her arm to beckon me closer. As I approached she looked up at me; her expression a mixture of sadness and hesitancy. “0ei tojohlo ke bden nx0 0ei noho rheiwxk xoho,” she continued; her teary, brilliant, emerald green eyes gazing into mine. “Xenoloh, ke jxen 0ei A mijk… cadb nakx 0ei. A nacc dek te kxuk idcojj 0ei uccen mo.” She reached up and touched her fingers to her temple; while her eyes gazed into mine I felt them brush against my cheek, the softness of the pads of her fingers punctuating a curiously intimate act. It was then that I felt a familiar warm, azure presence brush against my thoughts in the same way I had felt us connect last night.
I simply nodded to her and she nodded back; the warm, calm presence at first nudging at my thoughts before gently pushing into them; I couldn’t really describe what I felt other than emotions I clearly knew weren’t mine. At first I felt a wave of gratitude, friendliness and a hint of hesitant affection, yet those belied a deep sense of sadness, grief, and concern which washed into a series of images that I instinctually realized that she was presenting to me. She was trying to show me what happened to her with images and emotions; a way to get past our inability to communicate with words.
A planet; a brilliant, deep blue sphere with deep green continents hung in space like a gorgeous gem, teeming with life which I couldn’t see but somehow understood was there. The image zoomed in to show impossible sights; cities of stone buildings and villages of wooden and grass huts, all teeming with blue-furred foxes who wore simple clothing like she was currently dressed in. There were no trappings of modern society; no neon signs, no electric lights, no cars… just an agrarian society of peaceful, generally happy vulpines living out their lives. With those images came a sense of familiar, peaceful comfort; something that persisted despite the sadness I felt from her.
The scene changed; the sense of sadness I felt from her growing stronger as a small village came into view; a small collection of foxes surrounding a small hut. Inside were two more; a young couple by the looks of it; coughing up blood into clay bowls while others in their family tried in vain to take care of them. They succumbed to their illness; the family members that took care of them starting to sneeze and cough up blood before dusk had fallen. The next scene was horrifying; the same village was devoid of life in the span of a few days, bodies of foxes fallen in the streets, their fur and simple clothing soaked in blood.
The images marched by with brutal regularity; villages, towns, and even cities were ravaged by the quick, lethal illness. It didn’t seem how remote or how well-prepared a place was; once the sickness took hold it claimed nearly everyone it touched. She didn’t communicate in words, but the shock, fear, and grief that accompanied the images were enough. A large, ornate chamber full of very finely-dressed foxes convened; some sort of government meeting? Krystal stood next to two of them; the mixture of familial love and barely restrained grief I felt from her seemed to indicate that she had been very close to the regal-looking tod and vixen. Her parents, perhaps?
The next scene was a small, abandoned village in a mountainous area; the town square having been dismantled to accommodate the same spacecraft I had found her in. Krystal stood among several others; all dressed in the same form-fitting bodysuits she had been wearing up until a few minutes ago. A group of others, this time a mixture of anthropomorphic dogs, felines, more normally-colored foxes and even monkeys showing them how to operate the exotic, advanced equipment. Even then they were ill-prepared; the ship was old, the power cells degraded and the distance they would have to travel would be dangerous; the ‘expats’ who taught them tried to conceal their concern, but Krystal felt their doubts.
Everything was checked and double-checked; everyone was shown how to use the emergency equipment on board. Spacesuits, survival equipment, emergency life support, and how to operate the pods. Then, an image of the twin to the object whose remains Krystal and I stood next to. An ethereal aqua line shot out from the object to an ancient stone temple which sat not far from the government chamber she had showed me earlier. Yet another stone, rune-carved object sat there, under constant vigil by serious-looking blue foxes dressed in ornate robes. They were monitoring it; awaiting a signal from those who were on board.
The next scene shifted drastically; inside the spacecraft as Krystal and the others donned their form-fitting bodysuits and prepared to enter their pods. One was still dressed in their traditional clothing; the same vixen whose body I found at the controls. She hugged Krystal tightly; I felt a sense of warm, friendly affection as she tucked her muzzle into the other vixen’s neck. She was gently guided to the pod I had saved her from; the vixen’s movements gentle and affectionate as she was secured within its confines. The violet-eyed vixen squeezed Krystal’s hand before the mask that had nearly killed her was secured over her muzzle and the door to her pod secured. A strong, sweet, mint-like scent washed over her before the memory faded away…
…then came back as an unbearable, icy cold sensation was all she could feel; a rising panic as she couldn’t breathe, the machine that forced freezing cold, dry air into her lungs at regular, but inadequate intervals. It wasn’t enough; each time she felt herself fading into unconsciousness she was convinced it was her last. Her senses felt a couple of the others; sharing their panic at being into her same situation; trapped in an icy prison as they slowly suffocated. Her only hope was the object sitting next to her pod; its presence tugging at her dulled, oxygen-deprived thoughts. She mentally reached out to it and pushed her mind through it…
…only to end up in my father’s office. The foxes, the ones at the temple, were not present. The object, picking up on her desperation, sought out any of its counterparts that would pick up the call; any who had been in contact with another sapient being. The realization hit me: I was the one who inadvertently answered her plea. I had been her lifeline when those who were supposed to answer her call had likely been killed by the illness that had ravaged her people.
Another realization hit me like a hammer, this time the icy cold grip of fear that hit my heart was my own, along with the mental image I had conjured. The vixen who had placed Krystal in the pod; her… close friend? I wasn’t sure, but she was the one I had seen at the controls; her fur and clothes caked in her dried blood. She had been sick…
“Narine?” Krystal’s voice called out, shattering the emotions and mental images; I blinked a couple of times and I was back in my dad’s office. The vixen’s tear-soaked eyes remained locked onto mine; this time an expression of abject horror and grief filled her expression. “Jxo xut kxo Rcootadw Jasbdojj? Xen? No noho sedvadot kxoho jfosavasucc0 ke fholodk ak roveho no covk Sohadau! Jxo xutd'k bdend jxo nuj acc; no noho jihheidtot r0 Wiuhtaudj udt Fhaojkj moudk ke boof ekxohj eik udt ij nakxad!”
I don’t know why but I felt the compulsion to hug her; my arms drawing her close as she wrapped hers around my back; her body hitching as she sobbed into my shoulder. “Jfahakj,” she rasped, “Fcoujo, dek uvkoh ucc kxuk xuj xuffodot! A'm jehh0 A ficcot 0ei adke kxaj... fcoujo vehwalo mo?”
I wasn’t stupid, even if the implications of what I had witnessed shouldn’t have been possible. We couldn’t speak to each other, but Krystal most definitely possessed some kind of supernatural abilities. She was telepathic, empathic, or possibly both? Still, the tale her thoughts wove was disturbing; with the language barrier I could only inference things but it looked like she was the daughter of someone in the upper echelons of her people’s government; she had been taught how to use the spacecraft’s equipment to seek help from an advanced civilization, perhaps? The fact her friend had fallen victim to the same illness was worrying; had Krystal contracted it? Our mental connection still seemed active, in a sense; I could feel her sadness, grief, and remorse collide with my concern and confusion.
Color me curious but I decided to push those boundaries a bit; pushing my feeling of concern and a mental image of her coughing against her azure presence. The vixen startled; pulling away from my shoulder just enough for her widened eyes to once again meet mine. I repeated the mental act; this time imagining her coughing into her hand only for her to witness it flecked with blood; sending her a more intense feeling of concern this time.
Tendrils of uncertainty and fear brushed against my thoughts as her surprise faded back into sadness. “A… ted'k bden, Adam,” she spoke, her voice trembling. “Av jxo xut kxo Rcootadw Jasbdojj, ak aj fejjarco A ucje xulo ak. Jfahakj, A xefo dek… veh rekx eih juboj…”
“We’ll need to work together,” I replied, despite our language barrier. “Regardless of what happens, I think we’re both stranded here.” Emboldened, I sent her a series of other mental images; taking what we could from this house and her craft then finding somewhere safe to take shelter, hopefully able to flag down someone to rescue us before something happened to either of us.
I understood that it wasn’t her fault she brought me here; while I hadn’t wanted to be whisked away to an alien planet with a bunch of angry lizardmen and a mysterious vixen who may or may not be infected with a terminal sickness, I wasn’t going to hold it against her. Despite the mental bond and the events over the past couple of days we were still strangers; strangers who had to develop enough trust in each other to overcome what lay ahead.
She pulled away from the embrace; a feeling of gratitude emerging from the mixture of fear and sadness to brush against my thoughts just before the azure presence faded. “A nacc xocf 0ei veh uj cedw uj A sud,” she spoke, her voice regaining some strength as she pointed to herself then to me. “Uk kxo loh0 coujk, A eno 0ei kxuk. Cok'j wukxoh kxo jiffcaoj no sud udt wok ed eih nu0.” She seemed to emphasize her point by pointing to the door.
A thought crossed my mind and I went back to check the master bathroom; an errant conversation I recalled from my dad a week or so before I came out here. He mentioned that Martha was recovering from bronchitis… perhaps she had some leftover antibiotics? I hit paydirt; there was a recently refilled prescription bottle with her name on it and it was nearly full; apparently she felt better enough not to take it with her. It was Bactrim; something I couldn’t take due to a pretty nasty sulfa allergy but if Krystal wound up needing it I wanted it on hand. I slipped the bottle of pills into my pocket and emerged into the hallway; my vulpine companion giving me a curious look as she made her way down the stairs.
She helped me get the food and other supplies into the car; I had to fold the rear seats down and set the cargo cover aside to fit some of it. I figured we’d find more things inside her ship and I’d need as much room as possible. With that done all that was left here was the garage; the two of us poring over the workbench at the back. I didn’t feel right about breaking into Martha’s Geo; that and with how fastidiously clean she kept things I wasn’t likely to find anything in there. I did lift the five-gallon gas can Dad had for the lawnmower; Krystal wrinkled her nose at the scent of gasoline but didn’t remark on it. I went back for his small selection of tools; while he had a few things I could use to turn wrenches on my car most of his belongings were for his woodworking projects.
“0ei mu0 doot kxaj,” Krystal spoke up as I returned to the workbench; she dangled a respirator which had been hanging on the pegboard in front of me as well as a bag of filter cartridges for it. It was meant for things like sawdust, paint fumes, and similar hazards, but the serious expression on her vulpine features punctuated her insistence that I bring it along. “Kxo xuquhteij odlahedmodk wouh ed m0 jxaf ned'k vak 0ei, rik kxaj ceebj cabo ak nacc. Zijk ad sujo?”
“O-kay…” I replied, putting it and its associated filters into my backpack. I was mildly claustrophobic and seeing her trussed up and suffocating in such gear had really freaked me out, but she seemed adamant on me having it handy.
She nodded approvingly. “A kxadb no'lo rood kxeheiwx ad eih jouhsx,” she observed with a soft smile before motioning all around us. “Aj kxaj oloh0kxadw 0ei doot vhem 0eih tnoccadw?” she asked; an expectant tone in her voice as she walked up to the passenger door of my car.
“Yeah, I think we’re done here,” I remarked to her as we slipped into the car; I tucked the machete and knife between the seat and the door before starting the engine and taking off for her wrecked ship.
A couple of minutes later we had arrived; parked outside the rear entrance of Krystal’s wrecked ship. With a feeling of trepidation I opened the door; my vixen friend’s expression mirroring what I felt as we eased past the lizardmen we had shot earlier to emerge into the cold, dark confines of the ship. I winced at the sight; mind troubled at the death we had dealt. I felt her grab my arm; her mental presence returning in a flash as she turned to me and shook her head. Another set of mental images flowed to me; this time the disturbing sight of one of those lizardmen running me through with a sword and another carrying her limp body towards one of those hoverbikes outside. A feeling of determination pressed up against my mind; its message quite clear: these creatures wanted nothing good for us and we must look out for one another.
“A doot ke kubo kxojo, vahjk,” Krystal’s voice broke the stillness as she reached for one of the space helmets that lined the wall of what I assumed was an airlock. She had to disengage a couple of latches to free it, along with a bulky backpack of some sort. These she took back outside to prop against my car, followed by one of the gas masks that looked like it integrated with a smaller pack. “Uwuad, kxo opfukj kuiwxk ij ke ro fhofuhot veh odlahedmodkuc xuquhtj; A ted'k nudk ke kubo sxudsoj ed ud idbdend fcudok. Dek uvkoh nxuk xuffodot ke m0 foefco...”
I fought a paranoid urge to pull out my Beretta as I wandered into the ship; I tempered that urge with the knowledge that it was just us here. It was then that I felt a hand gently grasp my shoulder; Krystal’s warm mental presence once again tugging at my thoughts the only reason I didn’t startle. The contact was unexpected and unfamiliar but not unwelcome, even if the emotions I felt dancing at the edge of that presence were now a mixture of grief, sadness, and a hint of fear. I glanced over to her as she pointed to the bunk area of the ship; a series of images flitted past my mind’s eye detailing the cabinets where we would find the ship’s survival supplies. Another image showed her going through the satchels the others left behind.
I nodded to her as we split up; if anyone should be going through her deceased companions’ belongings it should be her. The cabinets in the bunk area were latched closed, but it was an easy task to open them. There were a large number of sealed pouches which contained liquid; some labeled in the same flowing, alien language that matched the craft’s signage but many that were just silvery pouches labeled with a single word. They seemed to be able to attach to something, but their nozzles could be opened with a twist. The inference was pretty clear, so I twisted open one of the unlabeled ones and took a drink. Cold but flat-tasting water greeted my tongue, but it didn’t stop me from draining the pouch. I stashed everything I came across into a trash bag and set it aside before continuing my search.
The next level of cabinets contained a large number of what looked like plastic cups; they were light and labeled with more flowing text and pictures of a mixture of noodles, veggies, and meat. I had just found the space ramen, apparently. Big yellow arrows pointed to pull tabs on the bottom of the containers, but I didn’t want to experiment so soon after stuffing my face with what I found in the fridge. They went into a different trash bag which was placed next to the drinks I had found.
The bottom level of cabinets revealed a set of what the illustrations claimed were sleeping bags; without the text it was pretty clear how to open them and even how to join up to three of them together to share body heat in what I figured was a dire, cold-weather survival situation. I took four; they had been rolled up and vacuum-packed into something I could throw into my backpack without much fuss. However, the final objects I spotted were something I had no clue about. They looked like oversized pizza boxes; about ten inches tall and three feet wide. There were four that were neatly stacked; as I pulled one out it was pretty heavy, about forty to fifty pounds by my guess. It hit the deck with a rather solid thump; loud enough to draw Krystal’s attention.
“Weet, 0ei veidt kxo jxockohj,” she replied as she hovered over me; her hands grasping some kind of long black leather pouch. I couldn’t tell what it was in the dim light, but it definitely looked like a protective case of some sort. “No edc0 doot kxo edo; te 0ei doot xocf suhh0adw ak?” She pointed to me and then her; she lung the case she held around her shoulder and grabbed at a couple of thick straps on the heavy box I had pulled out. I noticed that she had also slung three of the leather satchels around herself; I got the impression that she didn’t want to stick around here and I didn’t blame her.
Between the two of us we managed to maneuver it out of the ship and into the car; the strange assembly taking up a significant amount of the remaining space we had. “Kxaj aj veh 0ei,” she spoke, removing the leather case she had brought and opening it to reveal the collapsed form of a staff similar to her own. This one looked much different; it was onyx in color with intricate silver engravings, the emerald crystals embedded at the ends giving it an almost ethereal quality. “A vooc kxuk Kalai neict xulo nudkot jemoedo cabo 0ei ke xulo ak. Akj fenoh tofuhkot ifed xaj toukx, rik A nacc kousx 0ei xen ke tovodt 0eihjocv nakx ak.”
I stood there for a moment, speechless. She glanced to me expectantly; her smile sad and somber. I reached out to take the weapon; in comparison to hers it felt cold and dead, devoid of the warm, tingling presence I had felt when I handled hers. Still, this had to have belonged to one of her companions; the fact she seemed to trust me with it was probably a good sign. “Thanks, Krystal,” I replied, making sure to handle the strange weapon as respectfully as I did my firearms. “I’ll take care of it, I promise.” There was what looked like a leather sheath for the weapon that could be attached to a belt; as I put the case in the car I attached it right behind the holster to my revolver.
Krystal slid the other satchels into the hatch; pausing for a moment to glance at me. “A veidt kxo tolasoj no ijot ke hoseht eih vadtadwj ed kxo Rcootadw Jasbdojj,” she spoke, her voice heavy with a mixture of exhaustion and sadness. “Narine fciwwot u von fenoh soccj adke m0 jkujaj fet; kxo0 noho kxo edc0 houjed nx0 A jihlalot cedwoh kxud kxo ekxohj. Jemoxen, A kxadb jxo nudkot ke fhekosk mo; kxuk jkirrehd, rouikavic lapod…” She paused a moment before taking my hand; the warm presence of her thoughts nudging up against mine. “Fcoujo, ussemfud0 mo uj A fik kxoah jfahakj ke hojk?”
She tugged me towards the craft, stopping just short of one of its bent, crumpled wings. She pulled out and extended her staff; its aqua engravings and crystal-embedded ends glowing softly in the daylight. Images drifted across my mind as she spoke names; snippets of her memories with the others inside who did not make it. “Thalan, Tela, Kalai…” she uttered, her voice tight with sorrow. “Jurit, Kalos, Jalit, udt Narine, m0 khoujihot vhaodt… A whudk 0ei fouso udt rat 0ei u wodkco fukx adke kxo Ro0edt. Av A jihlalo A nacc suhh0 eik eih kujb; av A vucc A nacc zead 0ei uk kxo Kurco Okohduc nakx eih vumacaoj udt udsojkehj nxe xulo veccenot kxo fukx roveho…” she trailed off as the wave of grief pushed against my thoughts; I glanced over to her to witness tears streaming from her eyes as she held her staff high…
She leveled it at the broken ship; with an ear-splitting crack her weapon spat out an aqua-colored lightning bolt, its afterimage flashing into my eyes as it hit the craft with immense force. Whatever it was had done some significant damage; flames almost immediately flaring up inside the craft, followed by smoke wisping through cracks in the fuselage. I felt her sag against me; a mixture of sorrow, grief, and exhaustion filling her presence as I helped her towards the car.
The fire spread inside the craft; flames now licking through the cracks in the fuselage as muffled pops sounded from inside. I gently helped her into her seat; realizing that it might not be a good idea to stick around just in case something really volatile cooked off. Without a word I started the engine and turned off the stereo; I figure now was not the time to blast her eardrums out, despite my inclination to crank up some tunes in order to stave off exhaustion. By the clock sitting in the dash it was nearly one in the morning, despite the daylight streaming in. We’d have to find a safe place to stop and get some sleep, but this wasn’t it.
As I pulled my Celica onto the dirt trail I was faced with a choice; I had no idea where to go. I figured the best bet would be to keep away from the lizardmen, but they had to have come from somewhere. The trail followed the river it had been built next to, so upstream or downstream?
I felt Krystal’s hand fall upon my wrist; again prompting her presence to brush up against my thoughts. Still, through the heavy cloak of grief and exhaustion I felt a spark of hope; something which manifested in the sad smile she gave me. She pointed upstream. It was a good a choice as any, so I swung my car in that direction. Exhausted but now equipped as well as we could be, we drove forward into the unknown.
Chapter 6: Thorntail Hollow
Unknown Date
Unknown Time
By my best guess it was sometime after midday on the planet, which translated to about two-thirty in the morning back in Texas… wherever the hell Texas was in relation to here. The ambient temperature was warm enough that it was starting to lull my exhausted mind to sleep, so I had turned on both the A/C and the stereo to keep me awake.
Thankfully it didn’t seem to bother my vulpine travelling partner. Krystal gazed out the passenger window as the scenery flashed by; whatever little of it there actually was beyond dense jungle, meadows, and the occasional distant ruin. Thankfully we hadn’t come across any rampaging lizardmen, and I felt comfortable enough to push my Celica up to about fifty miles per hour. I caught a brief glimpse of her in the reflection of the windshield. The fur around her reddened eyes was damp; sorrow understandably etched into her features. I didn’t blame her; the tale her memories told me was a grim one, and the invisible specter of the mysterious illness which had burned through her people still hung over her.
Linda Perry’s voice sang over a slow blues tempo; reflecting the exhausted, somber mood that hung over the two of us like a cloud. “So wait, don’t go; seems as though it’s getting scary…” We hadn’t spoken much, but the time spent travelling had given me plenty of time for reflection. I wonder what kind of story would be told about me; victim of a natural gas explosion, perhaps? I figured most of my family and friends would buy that, though my final conversation with Will would probably have him call bullshit on that. It was a pretty shitty situation, but I was under no illusions and if I was completely honest with myself I wasn’t much of an optimist even at the best of times.
The trail seemed to veer away from the stream it had paralleled for miles; the scenery finally changing a bit as it started a long, winding climb through denser trees. This drew Krystal’s notice after a moment; she glanced at me with teary, listless eyes that almost belied the gentle look of concern that tugged at her vulpine features. She didn’t speak; rather she placed a hand on my shoulder which prompted the return of her warm, azure mental presence. I started to liken it to oil meeting water; her sorrow and concern floating separately against my frustration and regret. Some of those feelings were definitely shared; her feelings of isolation comingled with mine, along with a measure of fear that despite our efforts we may both end up meeting a grim fate on this strange world. Most of all I could tell she was about as exhausted as I was; not surprising considering her nearly fatal experience in that stasis pod.
“We need to stop soon,” I broke the silence; sending a mental image of us finding a safe, concealed area to pull over and crash out. We were both running on fumes and I didn’t want to risk running off the road and hitting a tree. Additionally I wasn’t sure if I was in the shape to get involved in another gunfight; I hadn’t even reloaded what I spent during our previous encounter with the lizardmen.
“A sud kocc 0ei uho kahot,” Krystal replied; as she spoke I could feel her exhaustion dovetailing into mine. “A jodjo ekxohj uxout; kxo0 ted'k vooc cabo kxo edoj no veiwxk nakx ouhcaoh.” Her own mental images carried over; that of a vague sense of life not far from us yet unlike the angry, arrogant lizardmen from earlier. The feeling she gathered from them was different; peaceful, nonconfrontational, yet uneasy. She urged me forward; just a little further and we might find a safe place to stop and get some much-needed sleep. After a moment I noticed that her hand didn’t leave my shoulder; her presence remaining against mine as we closed in on whatever lay ahead.
Like topping the summit of a mountain pass my Celica passed a break in the trees and crested a cliff which led into a small valley. Even with the exhaustion dulling my senses it looked gorgeous; ruins of an ancient wall festooned with turquoise emblems held what were likely the headwaters of the river we had been following; spilling down in a waterfall just in front of a gigantic statue. Beyond that in the distance were snowcapped mountains that reminded me of Colorado’s Front Range; a sight that invoked homesickness. Would I ever lay my eyes on Pike’s Peak again? Right now that seemed unlikely.
However, that led to another sight which I was definitely not expecting. “What. The. Fuck,” I cursed; my eyes widening as we got our first eyeful of the valley’s occupants. The lizardmen I could kinda handle, even though they seemed to want to shank me. An anthropomorphic vixen that I could only communicate with through some kind of touch-based telepathy and pantomiming? Sure; despite the circumstances she was the closest thing I had to a friend around here.
However, the presence of several quadrupedal dinosaurs had just taken this ride on a nosedive straight to Jurassic Park. After I uttered those words I felt a mental nudge; a feeling of concern in response to my sudden emotional shift. I quickly glanced over to my vulpine traveling companion, yet I found myself unable to communicate to her that we were in the presence of living beings that really shouldn’t exist here. Not in this time period and definitely not on this planet. How would I send mental images to her regarding the presence of dinosaurs right in front of us; creatures that had been extinct for literally millions of years on the same planet I inhabited?
I felt a gentle squeeze on my shoulder; I spared another quick glance at her as I navigated another switchback that led down into the valley. She sent another emotional nudge; this one of mixed confusion and understanding. That was a bit of a relief; she seemed to understand that there were concepts we couldn’t get across to each other yet. A mental image of one of those dinosaurs followed the nudge; this time with a feeling of friendliness and peace that accompanied her words. “Te dek nehh0,” she spoke; her voice calm and composed. “Kxojo shoukihoj uho fousovic udt nacc dek xuhm ij av no khouk kxom nakx badtdojj udt hojfosk. A jodjo de xejkacak0 vhem kxom; edc0 sihaejak0 udt nuhadojj.”
The switchbacks ended as my car drove into the valley; it was a tight fit as I slowed to a crawl to avoid a retaining wall that surrounded what looked like a cave entrance. There was a small, inviting copse of trees nearby, shading a blanket of what looked like wildflowers. It really was a peaceful looking place. However, we had attracted the attention of its denizens; now that we were closer up I was made aware of the fact that each of the four dinosaurs who kept a wary distance were larger than my car. This was goddamn surreal, but Krystal didn’t seem too bent out of shape at their presence. I glanced over to her and she nodded at me; giving a mental nudge as if to tell me our journey had come to an end for now.
I closed my eyes and shut off the engine, shifted into first and engaged the emergency brake. Thankfully I hadn’t burned a bunch of gas getting here, just in case we needed to get out of here with the quickness. I heard the soft pop of the passenger door unlatching as Krystal opened the door; flashing a quick smile at me as she let go of my shoulder and exited the vehicle. It was my cue to do so as well; I didn’t reach for my rifle but I made damn well sure that my handguns were on my belt.
The vixen cautiously approached the gathered dinosaurs; I noticed that she kept her hands away from her staff and stopped a respectful distance away. I kept behind her and to her left; the prehistoric creatures regarding both of us. What happened next wasn’t something I was prepared for; one of them actually spoke. “No rat 0ei nocsemo ke Kxehdkuac Xeccen, jkhudwo edoj. No khijk 0eih adkodkaedj uho fousovic?”
As I was trying to grasp the concept of, well, talking dinosaur, Krystal responded in kind. “Kxo0 uho, xedehot edo,” she replied. “A um Krystal ev Scud Sallas, Fekodkauc ke kxo Whudt Seidsac udt Wiuhtaud Adakauko. Kxaj aj m0 khulocadw semfudaed udt don vhaodt, Adam. No xulo veidt eihjocloj jkhudtot xoho udt uho joobadw u juvo fcuso ke hojk. Mu0 no amfejo ifed 0ei veh u dawxk eh kne nxaco no wok eih rouhadwj?”
Another one spoke; this time in an oddly feminine timbre. “Av 0ei sedtisk 0eihjocloj ad uj fousovic udt fcoujudk u muddoh uj 0ei xulo adkhetisot 0eihjocloj,” they stated, “no neict wcutc0 uccen 0ei ke jku0 umedw ij. Xenoloh, no neict ujb 0ei ke fhojodk 0eihjocloj ke kxo Giood Ouhkxnucboh; ak aj dek ucnu0j juvo xoho udt jxo sud jxot meho cawxk ed eih jkhiwwcoj. Av 0ei uho naccadw ke xocf ij, no neict ro whukovic.”
“Kxuk aj u houjedurco hogiojk,” the vixen continued before glancing back to me. “A mijk advehm 0ei kxuk m0 semfudaed teoj dek jfoub kxaj cudwiuwo; A nacc ujjimo hojfedjaracak0 veh xaj uskaedj uj nocc uj mado. Neict 0ei ro je badt uj ke jxen ij nxoho no sud fuhco0 nakx 0eih Giood?”
“Urjecikoc0, 0eidw edo,” the first dinosaur responded; I started to realize that they looked somewhat like Nodosaurids. One of my interests as a kid had been dinosaurs; along with volcanoes and the wreck of the Titanic. Apparently some of that was coming back to me, though I’d wished the situation hadn’t been so damn mindboggling. The talking dinosaur walked away and Krystal followed it; gesturing towards me in a way that suggested I should follow suit.
We made our way around the stone fence I had parked next to, which housed an impressively large entrance to a cave inset into the cliff face. The dinosaur gestured inside with a movement of its head and a few words; Krystal wasted no time in stepping inside. It wasn’t like I had much choice, so I followed her.
This strange new world wasn’t lacking in surprises as another, much larger dinosaur stood inside. They looked like a triceratops which lacked horns; still easily large enough to turn both of us into grease smears on the floor if she felt the need. That was somewhat nervewracking. However, the fact she wore something that looked like a bejeweled crown upon her crest and matching gold bracers was something I didn’t figure was typical dinosaur behavior. Still, she gazed at us with orange eyes that brimmed with intelligence and presence. “A rat 0ei kne nocsemo ke Kxehdkuac Xeccen,” she spoke, her voice possessing a slight resemblance to Krystal’s. “A um Galia, Giood ev Juihau'j Ouhkxnucboh Kharo. A xulo xouht kxo cowodtj ev kxo Cerinians, rik ke joo edo nakx m0 end o0oj aj u jawxk adtoot!”
“0ei… bden ev ij?” Krystal asked; her voice tight to the point of nearly cracking. “X…xen?”
“Eih cowodtj kocc kxo kucoj ev kxo rcio-vihhot edoj nxe vehwot kxo mawxk0 Jfoccjkedoj kxuk uccenot eih nehct ke fhejfoh,” the regal triceratops replied. “Kxaj nuj mud0, mud0 0ouhj uwe udt deret0 homomrohj kxo kucoj vahjkxudt, julo veh fohxufj kxo Nuhfjkedo. Xenoloh, kucoj ev 0eih badt xulo rood howucot kxheiwx kxo wodohukaedj; kxo jocvcojj edoj nxe tajselohot eih nehct udt xocfot kumo akj nact muwas.”
“Aj kxaj nx0 0ei jfoub eih cudwiuwo?” the vixen inquired; curiosity lacing her words so heavily even I could hear it.
“Ak aj caboc0, 0eidw edo,” the dinosaur replied, “0ok A ted'k rocaolo A sud udjnoh 0eih giojkaedj ekxoh kxud kxo cowodtj A nuj kect uj u sxact. Mu0 0ei xedeh mo nakx 0eih dumoj?”
“M0 ufecewaoj, xedehot edo,” Krystal spoke. “A um Krystal ev Scud Sallas, Fekodkauc ke kxo Cerinian Whudt Seidsac udt Wiuhtaud Adakauko. Kxaj aj m0 khulocadw semfudaed udt don vhaodt, Adam. No xulo veidt eihjocloj jkhudtot ed kxaj nehct; no joob u juvo fcuso ke hojk udt wuad eih rouhadwj. No noho ujbot ke fhojodk eihjocloj ke 0ei.”
“Ak aj u fcoujiho ke mook 0ei, Krystal ev Scud Sallas,” the dinosaur replied, a hint of sorrow present in her voice. “0ei sud hojk xoho uj cedw uj 0ei doot; xenoloh mu0 A ujb kxuk 0ei xouh eih fcawxk udt sedjatoh uatadw ij uwuadjk ak?”
“Uj u Wiuhtaud,” Krystal responded, “A um reidt r0 tik0 ke fhekosk kxejo ad doot. Mu0 A adgiaho uj ke kxo dukiho ev 0eih fcawxk?”
“Kxo Jfoccjkedoj 0eih udsojkehj shuvkot uho sedtiakj veh kxo nact odohw0 xoct nakxad kxaj nehct,” the dinosaur began, launching into what sounded to me like a rather lengthy speech. “Dek cedw uwe, kxo coutoh ev kxo lasaeij Jxuhfscun kharo, Wodohuc Jsucoj, jeiwxk kxo fenoh ev kxo Jfoccjkedoj veh xamjocv. Xaj vehsoj ukkusbot kxo Wukoboofohj; kxo coutohj ev eih kharoj. Xo jkeco kxo Jfoccjkedoj nakxeik houcaqadw, eh suhadw, kxuk xaj uskaedj nacc hojick ad kxo tojkhiskaed ev eih nehct. Kxo Bhuqeu, fouso jfahakj nxe elohjoo kxo Jfoccjkedoj udt kxo adkowhak0 ev eih nehct, noho xattod unu0; xo joobj kxom ke vihkxoh xaj end fenoh…” I hate to say that I mentally tuned out, but I was running on a severe lack of both sleep and caffeine; while I could tell that what they were discussing was critically important I just leaned against the wall and tried to stay awake. It wasn’t until the conversation had ended that I realized they had wrapped up.
Krystal turned to me; concern etched on her features as she finished up with the interlocutory dinosaur. Without warning her hand sought mine; the softness of her fur and the almost electric tingle of her finger- and palmpads heralding the return of her mental presence. This time her emotions were a mixture of concern and compassion; accompanied by mental images that showed the lizardmen we had engaged a few hours ago brutalizing other dinosaurs. Both species we had already met faced their clubs, blades, and crossbows, along with a pteranodon species. Large jewels which held great power had been removed from their resting places and moved; so that was what caused this planet to break up! So, the plot thickened.
Her mental explanation carried forward; I knew I would miss some context but I was trying to get the gist, and the simple fact was that she seemed to have far more experience in communicating in this fashion. The jewels had been taken to locations that were both difficult to reach and under guard by the lizardmen; this meant we would have to retrieve them in order to stop the planet from breaking apart. The next set of images and emotions she sent my way were a bit more esoteric; something about floating spirits that took care of these big jewels and would have to be found and brought back somewhere? I wasn’t so sure about that one, but the vixen’s serious expression kept me from voicing my doubting thoughts.
The last series of mental images and emotions she sent were of the regal-looking dinosaur she had been conversing with; she apparently had a kid who had been captured by the bastards and told if that anyone tried to rescue him he would be killed. That made my blood boil; at that moment I realized that Krystal’s feelings mirrored mine. These bastards were bad news; they had wanted to kill me, capture her for God knew what purpose, and they weren’t above killing a baby dinosaur. Yeah, they had to be stopped. With her staff that shot firebolts and lightning as well as my boomsticks, we might just be the fly in their ointment; the monkey in their wrench.
Instinctively I gently squeezed her hand; which caused her eyes to widen and the insides of her ears to darken in an obvious blush. A wave of some kind of emotion which could have been coyness or bashfulness came and went in an instant as she squeezed back; I wasn’t sure what just happened but I’d just wanted to acknowledge that I was willing to help with this. “I’ll totally help you,” I replied, “but we really need some rest first.” I emphasized my point by pushing some mental images of us grabbing some blankets, reclining my Celica’s seats as far back as we could get them to go, and getting some well-needed sleep.
I wasn’t counting on her shaking her head with a soft smile; an emotion that seemed almost like mischief bumping up against our mental connection as she squeezed my hand again and tugged me along; a shout of “No jxucc kucb meho kemehhen, xedehot edo!” offered to the bejeweled triceratops as she pulled me outside the cave. We exited the little ‘courtyard’ that was delineated by the stone fence as Krystal made a beeline for my car. The azure vixen let go of my hand and patted the hatch of my mid-‘80s rally rocket; a smile still tugging at her lips as I tiredly regarded her. She obviously wanted something out of the back.
I put the key into the lock and turned; the familiar twanging pop sounding out as the lock was disengaged and the hatch was released. I pulled it open only for Krystal to reach into one of the leather satchels she had scavenged and pull out two plastic pieces that were about the size of decks of playing cards; those were shamelessly tucked into her rather revealing top. Next, she patted the heavy, square assembly she insisted we bring then pointed to me. Confusedly I reached out to take one end of the assembly; she grabbed the other.
Together we lifted the thing out of the car; I followed her lead as we brought it close to the nearby copse of trees. With a thoughtful look she started to set her end down and followed suit; after we placed it on the ground she fished out one of the plastic boxes she had tucked into her cleavage. “Uccen mo ke opsoot 0eih opfoskukaedj kxaj olodadw,” she spoke in a cheerful voice as she slid the plastic thing into a slot on the assembly and pressed a button.
The thing beeped a couple of times and lit up; what looked like lasers projecting from its corners to cover a footprint roughly ten- or twelve-feet square. Most of it was cast in a calming blue glow, except for the areas we stood in which glowed a bright yellow. Krystal took my hand and pulled me back from the footprint. The yellow areas faded into the uniform blue as we left the area and the assembly beeped again.
My eyes widened and jaw dropped as the assembly started expanding; the square seemingly rolling out to fit that footprint. Once it had filled out I heard several sharp hisses and metallic scraping sounds; puffs of dust escaping the ground from underneath it. Afterwards it started expanding upward; a dark gray wall of synthetic fabric embedded with what looked like solar panels hiking into the air. My incredulous look continued as the assembly seemed to finish its task with a cheery-sounding chime; other than the rounded corners and dark patches over its walls the thing ended up to be about the size of a small bedroom.
Krystal approached what looked like a door to the structure; she plucked two thin plastic sheets that looked like credit cards from next to it. She placed one of them next to a square pad next to the door; it beeped and the door slid open to reveal a well-lit, gray interior. With a grin the vixen motioned me over and placed the other card-sized sheet into my hands; I started to realize that it was some kind of keycard.
She entered the structure and practically tugged me in; a faint hint of synthetic, almost vinyl scent carrying to my nose. The inside was bland and mostly empty, save for what looked like a closed-off closet at the far-left corner and what looked like a squat, built-in electric range at the near-right corner. The lighting seemed to emanate from panels on the ceiling; I could hear a soft humming noise as cool air seemed to cascade from a couple of tiny vents at the back. I figured I should take off my shoes; the floor felt cushioned and I couldn’t feel any bumps or irregularities from the ground.
“Kxaj aj succot u Crovdobxit,” Krystal replied as she sat down in the middle of the structure. It would be kind of a tight fit for both of us, but it was much better than getting rained on or eaten alive by bugs and was a marked improvement from sleeping in my car. “Ak'j dek moudk ke cujk veholoh, rik xefovicc0 no'cc ro urco ke xocf eih xejkj udt vadt u nu0 evv kxaj fcudok roveho kee cedw.”
Curious about the closet area I squeezed past her and opened the door. It wasn’t a closet, but a slightly inset area that instantly reminded me of one of those tiny combination shower and toilet stalls you’d find in a small RV. The floor was a step down, so I figured there was some kind of water tank. We wouldn’t have much privacy here, but it was most definitely a step up from digging a hole in the ground. “Indoor plumbing,” I mused. “Living the life, I guess.”
At least I’d brought along those blankets and sleeping bags; as Krystal laid back on the floor I threw on my shoes and went back outside. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to start moving in some of our supplies, too. The first round were blankets and sleeping bags; after a moment she joined me to move in the food, drinks, ammunition and the hazardous environment gear she insisted on bringing. I propped my rifle and our staves against the bathroom/shower nook and spread out our sleeping bags. Again, it was a tight fit but better than anything I had any right to hope for.
The sun was starting to set as we finished; despite my exhaustion I figured I should see it. I mean, I was likely the first man on Earth to witness the sunset on an alien planet, so why not? The stone fence around the cave entrance was low enough to sit on, so I grabbed a can of Coke, a candy bar, and probably most importantly the pack of cigs I’d lifted from my dad. I lit the kretek as I glanced to the mountains in the distance; the snowcapped peaks lit up in an idyllic orange-red glow by the setting sun. If it weren’t for the ancient-looking ruins and dinosaurs milling around in the distance, I could almost imagine myself sitting on a park bench in the Garden of the Gods and watching the sun rise over the Front Range.
“Rouikavic, ajd'k ak?” Krystal’s voice tugged at my thoughts as I both felt and heard her sit down next to me. I glanced over to see her take out one of those drink pouches from her satchel; the vixen offering me a soft smile as she did so. Her nose wrinkled as I took another drag on my clove cigarette; I made sure to keep the smoke from drifting into her face. She didn’t seem to mind it too much, but her expression became almost perplexed. “Kxuk aj ud… adkohojkadw jsodk veh u cdum-cdult, rik A um hukxoh hocaolot kxuk 0ei joom ke vadt ak fcoujudk.”
I popped open the top of my Coke and took a sip; she was now looking on in interest. Wordlessly I pointed the can to her; her emerald eyes practically lit up as she took it from me and delicately sipped at it. “Kxaj kujkoj tavvohodk kxud kxo ekxoh jnook thadb,” she chimed in, “rik A ucje celo ak!” I could tell she was having a bit of difficulty as soda cans weren’t exactly designed with anthropomorphic vixens in mind, but she quickly figured out that she could balance the can on her bottom lip and take a slow, deliberate drink.
We remained there like that as the sun set; wordlessly watching the lightshow and passing the can of Coke between each other while I slowly smoked my kretek. “Adam?” Krystal’s voice got my attention. “A bden ak aj m0 vuick 0ei noho rheiwxk xoho nxod kxo Khudjvohodso Odkak0 nuj semfhemajot, rik A nudkot ke kxudb 0ei. 0eih fhojodso bofk mo sucm nxaco A nuj khuffot ad kxo jkujaj fet. 0ei julot m0 cavo, 0ei veiwxk ucedwjato mo, udt 0ei uho naccadw ke xocf mo semo ke eih xejkj' uat. A vooc whukovic kxuk 0ei udjnohot kxo succ. A neictd'k ro xoho av 0ei xutd'k…”
I could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes as she placed her hand on my shoulder; her mental presence pressing against my thoughts like a warm blanket. I could feel her sorrow, fear, and a hint of frustration in the background; however they paled in comparison to the gratitude and relief she pushed in my direction.
I responded in kind; matching her feeling of gratitude with my own. It seemed like we were establishing camaraderie and friendship and I was quite grateful for that; I was also relieved that I wasn’t going into this alone. Despite the language barrier and having only spent a few hours in this mysterious vixen’s presence she seemed to genuinely be in my corner. I doubted if I would have made it even this far; she spoke the language and she seemed to have some semblance of background information about this strange new world I found myself in. I wasn’t stupid; a gun and a bad attitude wouldn’t get me too far around here.
I took my last drag off the kretek and stubbed it out, deciding to dump the butt inside the empty Coke can. With that out of the way I sighed and looked up into the darkening sky; the majestic profile of the mountains starting to fade into an outline. I felt a reassuring squeeze on my shoulder as the vixen slid off the fence, her hand reaching out to grasp mine. The meaning was pretty obvious as she tugged me along back to the tent-like structure she had set up.
Krystal retrieved her keycard from her satchel and pressed it against the little pad next to the door; it chimed once and she slid it open. As before I kicked off my shoes near the entrance and set the makeshift ashtray outside; there wasn’t much I could do about the smoke on my clothes but I wouldn’t break my cardinal rule of not smoking indoors.
She undid her sandals and set them beside my shoes as we both did our best to maneuver around each other inside the cramped space. As I got a better look at the place I noticed some sort of control panel that was set next to the built-in electric range and what looked like a tiny sink with water spigot. There were six slots sitting there; three of them occupied with those plastic cartridges that she had used to activate the little shelter. They seemed to act like some kind of battery, and perhaps this place was set up to charge them with the built-in solar panels?
Krystal had already dug through our things and located the sleeping bags; she was busy unrolling them next to each other. Suppressing a yawn I snuck past her to my duffel bag; well aware that I’d need to wash most of my clothes pretty soon. I extracted my last clean pair of sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt; I wasn’t particularly interested in sleeping in my jeans and I wasn’t going to sleep next to her in only my skivvies. She glanced up at me and raised an eyebrow as I slipped into the tiny bathroom stall; I caught the flash of an amused grin as I shut the door.
I tried to keep from banging around when I changed clothes; while the symbols denoting the controls for both the toilet and shower were in that strange, flowing script I had no chance in hell of figuring out, I was pretty sure I had figured out what did what. I wasn’t sure how, but it seemed like the little structure collected water and had an internal tank. By the look of the control panel next to the shower controls that tank was just a shade above empty, so it probably wasn’t a good idea to take a shower or use the facilities. The walls were also super thin and made of the same plasticized/rubberized fabric as the outer walls, so what privacy we had here was rather… minimal.
I emerged in my regular nightclothes as she finished setting out the sleeping bags next to each other. I would have preferred a little more space, but we were already pretty cramped. Her amused grin returned as I set my jeans and concert T-shirt on top of my duffel bag. “A xefo 0ei houcaqo A sedjatoh 0ei u vhaodt,” she quipped; our difference in language couldn’t hide the friendly, almost bemused tone in her voice. “A idtohjkudt Lylatians uho jemonxuk meho metojk rik A'm ebu0 av 0ei najx ke dek ro je vehmuc eh… semfcoko nakx 0eih thojj, ojfosaucc0 nakx uj xek uj ak aj xoho. Xenoloh, no jxeict xulo odeiwx fenoh ke boof kxo seecadw ed veh mejk ev kxo dawxk.” She patted the sleeping bag next to hers, her smile unwavering as I sat on the cushioned surface next to her. “Kemehhen nacc ro sxuccodwadw, je A nudk ke mubo jiho no rekx uho uj semvehkurco uj fejjarco.”
“First nights on an alien planet are probably always a bitch,” I joked back, unsure of what she was trying to convey but I didn’t want to give her the impression I was ignoring her. I reached around and grabbed two of the pillows I had lifted from the house; handing one to her despite the puzzled expression on her vulpine features. Making a mental note to load up some magazines tomorrow I placed my Beretta within easy reach as I ducked underneath the sleeping bag and rested my head on the pillow. “G’night, Krystal,” I murmured as I closed my eyes; exhaustion demanding it finally take the wheel. The fact this was probably the most eventful day of my life wasn’t lost on me as I felt her stretch out on her sleeping bag next to me.
Despite everything I felt myself drift off quickly, her voice carrying softly to my ears. “Jcoof nocc, m0 fhekoskeh…”
Citadel Mall
Colorado Springs, CO
November 19, 2001
The background noise was a mixture of the artificial waterfall that was a centerpiece of the mall’s food court as well as the cheesy pop music blaring over the speakers. We had managed to snag one of the larger tables that sat next to the waterfall; no easy feat considering Black Friday was pretty close at hand and there were plenty of people getting some early Christmas shopping done.
I tucked into my seat next to Courtney; still a little amazed that after several months of lengthy phone calls, late-night IM chats, and using our roleplaying characters as surrogates for our relationship we were finally together in person. Seth and Carrie, my high school friends who had recently gotten engaged, had the space to let Courtney stay with them during her visit. Their only stipulation was that we kept the noise down if we decided to… indulge in each other, which already happened a couple of times.
She reached down and squeezed my hand as I settled in with my giant slices of food court pizza and a tall fountain drink of Coke. “I can’t say that I’ve seen a waterfall in a mall before,” she observed with a grin. “It’s a nice touch.”
“A bit colder than Austin, I’d figure,” Seth chimed in; his tall, lanky figure hidden inside the dark brown duster he almost constantly wore. “But, it should be in the sixties for most of the week.”
“I think I’ll survive,” Courtney replied. “I’ve got my own personal space heater on hand.” She grinned and leaned against me; laying her head on my shoulder for a moment before going for her burger.
“If you come out here next summer we’ll have to go to Water World,” Carrie suggested, motioning to us. “We haven’t been in a couple of years, so we’re totally dragging you along.”
“And a drive up Pike’s Peak,” I mentioned. “I promise I’ll keep the rally slides to a minimum.”
“I’ve really had a great time here, hon,” Courtney replied as she continued to lean against me. The contact felt great but at the same time saddening; like I knew it wouldn’t last. “And we’ve got one more week to enjoy it, at least when you’re not working.”
“I’ll see if I can’t cut out early a couple of those days,” I replied. My folks didn’t exactly know about my relationship with Courtney, but I tried to keep my private life private. Even after I turned eighteen they weren’t particularly keen on Internet relationships; Court and I decided to only spring it on them once we started discussing living together. That was a ways off, but I was still completely smitten with her.
We’d come here to buy Court a more suitable coat; while it was going to get warmer a light denim jacket wasn’t exactly appropriate for fall in Colorado. However for now, I would bask in the warmth and affection of my girlfriend as we enjoyed a day off showing her the sights. However, something still felt… off, like I wasn’t fully realizing something or that what I feeling wasn’t quite real.
“Thanks for keeping me warm,” Courtney replied; her voice slowly filling with venom. “Now that Travis has had his fun, I know I can count on keeping me warm until the next guy or gal comes along. You’ll be a dear and keep me company until I don’t need you anymore, won’t you?”
I stiffened as she turned on me, however she wasn’t the only one. “You picked a real winner, Adam,” Seth pointed his plastic fork at me. “Next time, please don’t involve Carrie and I in your relationship drama?”
“Yeah,” Carrie replied, the short, raven-haired girl frowning at us. “We’re still your friends and all, but we don’t need to run cover for your girlfriends. For Chrissake, find someone local at least?” I blinked; my friends seemed unusually harsh about this, which I hadn’t remembered happening…
Time seemed to stop as a warm, cerulean presence nudged against my thoughts; a soft voice speaking gently in a foreign language pierced my fractured memory. “0eih muko?” I turned to look behind me to witness the azure-furred vixen who had occupied my dreams the past two nights right behind me, dressed in much the same revealing outfit I had found her tragically departed friend. She was outside the pod that was slowly suffocating her…
“De,” her voice gently spoke again. “0ei julot m0 cavo moho xeihj uwe. Kxaj aj jamfc0 0eih thoumjsufo, udt… dek u fcoujudk edo r0 m0 erjohlukaed.” A flood of memories hit me like a sledgehammer: my breakup with Courtney, our not so dissimilar food court ‘date’ yesterday, the movie where she cuddled up next to me… my waking up on the alien planet wasn’t a dream, then? The tall, scantily-clad, incredibly beautiful blue-furred vixen who stood behind me wasn’t a figment of my imagination?
The insides of her ears lit up in a blush as she smiled sheepishly at me. “A tatd'k moud ke adkhito ed 0eih kxeiwxkj,” she continued, her gentle voice carrying more than just a hint of surprise. “A vock 0ei noho kheircot udt nudkot ke mubo jiho 0ei noho ebu0. 0eih vehmucak0 uheidt mo muboj jodjo den, ucedw nakx kxaj thoumjsufo howuhtadw 0eih… vehmoh muko. No dootd'k jivvoh eih dawxkmuhoj hawxk den…” She reached down to gently grasp my hand; pulling me out of my seat despite Courtney’s protests.
“What do you think you’re doing, bitch?” Courtney snarled at the vixen. “I’m not done using him up yet! I lost Travis and Kendra, so he still owes me! I…” my ex’s expression froze as the vixen waved her other hand at her.
“A mu0 dek idtohjkudt 0eih cudwiuwo,” the vixen growled in response, “rik kxo edo 0ei je succeijc0 kejjot unu0 xut odeiwx badtdojj ad xaj xouhk ke julo kxo cavo ev u semfcoko jkhudwoh. Av 0ei noho kxaj succeij udt kxaj veecajx, 0ei tojohlo ke ro cakkco meho kxud u rut momeh0. M0 vhaodt teoj dek tojohlo ke hocalo kxaj…”
The scenery abruptly changed; this time we were on what looked like the rooftop patio of a stucco building. The pleasantly warm night air carried scents both sweet and earthy; their composition completely foreign to me yet also weirdly pleasant, calming, and familiar. Other buildings were around us; dimly lit with a mixture of what looked like phosphorescent plants and glowing jewels suspended from poles and mounted to the walls of buildings. It looked like we were in a small city; its boundaries defined by large walls I could catch glimpses of in the mid distance.
“Woah,” I remarked, taking in the scenery. “Was this your home?”
“U homadtoh ev xuffaoh kamoj,” Krystal stated as she sat back on a large, dark green cushion that was tucked under the patio. It was large enough to have been considered a mattress. “Nxod no rowad ke xedo eih madtj ke housx eik ke ekxohj, no uho kuiwxk ke momehaqo u fcuso nxoho no vooc juvo udt semvehkurco; u fcuso nxoho no sud jxaoct eih addoh jocloj. Kxaj aj mado; kxo tnoccadw nxoho no calot nxod A nuj u bak. A jfodk mud0 dawxkj xoho; sihcot if nakx u wcen-jxuht udt u reeb ke hout idtoh kxo jkuhj.” She patted the cushion next to her; glancing up to me with a soft yet slightly sad smile.
I slowly sat down next to her and reclined back; the field of stars hanging in the night sky was as mesmerizing as it was calming. “It’s a good place,” I replied. “Peaceful and quiet. If this is one of your memories, it’s worth holding onto.”
“0ei vooc cojj kheircot den, uj te A,” she murmured as she rolled to her side; her arm falling across my chest as she drew herself in close; her hand gently grasping mine. I puzzledly regarded her as her eyes gazed into mine; that soft yet slightly troubled smile still present on her muzzle. “A fhemajo ke dek rodt kee mud0 ev 0eih reidtuhaoj, 0ok A'm dek weadw ke uccen ij ke vucc rusb adke eih ekxoh thoumjsufoj kedawxk. Fcoujo, m0 fhekoskeh, hojk nakx mo…”
I surprised myself by reaching around the vixen and pulling her in close; hearing a happy sigh as she tucked her head onto my chest and snuggled into me. I caught a glimpse of her tail slowly wagging as she started drifting off to sleep, the warm presence enveloping my thoughts and urging me to join her in peaceful slumber…