Nica of Los Angeles Page 17

  I spun the map to show the dense black area from other angles. Hernandez gave a startled nod - he suddenly saw what I meant to show.

  Anwyl's nod was slower. He recognized the tumor. "Maelstrom's prison," he growled.

  "Maelstrom's prison." I forced myself to utter the words. "There's something different about the tumor next to the refugees' Frames. Look at it in other locations and there is a black gap between the prison and each Connector, a cohesive dark sphere. But that isn't how it looks right here. The refugee Frames and Connectors are harder to distinguish, the tumor's dark sphere has fuzzier edges. Everywhere else, the Frames and Connectors are distinctly separate from it."

  Anwyl explained, "We collapsed Frames within Frames to construct a prison for Maelstrom. This we call a complete collapse and it yields walls that are impenetrable, for the energy of a collapsed world surrounds Maelstrom."

  "It's like he's inside a black hole."

  "It does no harm to think of it so," Anwyl nodded, an echo of something Anya had once said to me.

  "However, in these areas," he pointed to the fuzzy zones, which included the refugee Frames, "one less Frame was collapsed around his prison. This we call a partial collapse. Some fear that a partial collapse may be reversed."

  "Why do it that way - why risk letting him escape?" Hernandez demanded.

  "There were those among the Framekeeps who argued that partial collapse was more just. The other collapsed Frames were empty and could be sacrificed more readily. These Frames had dwellers, and the humane choice was to preserve, not collapse, their worlds."

  "Why would you accept that choice?" Hernandez was pissed.

  "We trusted our Framekeeps, whose engineers assured that partial collapse was adequately strong. We did not anticipate that Maelstrom controlled the advisors. Framekeeps who approved the plan did so in secret support of Maelstrom." Anwyl's tone said the devil had infiltrated heaven.

  I stopped moving the map and stared at him. "Hold it right there. We're gathering evidence to take to the Framekeeps, but Maelstrom controls the Framekeeps?"

  "No longer. His Framekeeps were executed long ago."

  Goodness, we were a bloodthirsty group. Hernandez made a satisfied noise that matched my reaction to hear this. "Well, that was justice for such a crime."

  "Justice was not exacted. All evidence suggests that Maelstrom killed his Framekeeps to guarantee their silence."

  "I see." I paused, waited to see if sympathy for the dead Framekeeps might well up. Nope. "That makes a good deterrent to any other Framekeeps who might be thinking about switching allegiance." At Anwyl's macabre chuckle, I turned back to the map and slid our view along a dim line of Connectors, moving to the far side of the visible universe. "There are other tumors over here."

  "Yes, there are evils older and graver than Maelstrom," Anwyl nodded. "But they remain well and fully entrapped. No fools or traitors work to free them."

  "Why not stick Maelstrom somewhere with only unoccupied Frames around? Is the universe too crowded?"

  "We trapped him where we could. To move him risks losing him."

  "Anyhow," Miles called over, "that's where he had his baby farm. Nobody can handle being in that place except him."

  I didn't want details about the baby farm. I could tell.

  Suddenly, Anwyl and Hernandez swiveled to face Monk and Miles. I followed their gaze and saw the Towers translating toward us at a rate fast enough to make Nascar cringe.

  "Climb onto us! Now!" Miles shouted.

  "No time to climb! Run!" Monk howled.

  I had never heard them raise their voices before.

  Behind them, a wall of ocean water crashed onshore. It engulfed the pier and the beach in a fast-rising flood. The Towers would be fine - the waters just flowed around their girders. But if we stayed where we were, or ran back through the killing field, we would drown. We took our only hope, which was to run into the Connector, where our path sloped steeply then gently upward to the refugees' Frame. The ocean surged into the Connector behind us, then slowed and lapped gently when it reached the change in slope. The steep slope was submerged, but the gentle slope stayed dry. Just past the change in slope, we hunkered down, inhaling deeply to refill our lungs after our mad dash upslope. I shifted and my toes squished. The water was still rising, albeit more slowly. I squished my toes at Anwyl and Hernandez to show them, and we stood, watching the water surround our feet. We had no choice. We had to continue through the Connector to Halcyon.

  22. I Had A Rat Inside My Head

  We exited the Connector to a quaint shoreline village. It was textbook storybook, with hand-hewn wooden buildings, streets of crushed stone, and scenery requiring adjectives such as verdant and azure, like this: behind the village, verdant hills rolled to the horizon and beside the village was a glittering azure ocean, placid and inviting. It was daytime here, although night in the Connector hub.

  "The ocean doesn't look evil here and now I don't know what to think." I wasn't happy with a universe in which the ocean could be a bad guy, but now that my experience in the last Frame had opened my eyes to the possibility, I carried mistrust with me. If a being was deadly in one Frame, could it be safe in others?

  "The ocean is never evil."

  "In the last Frame we visited, the ocean swallowed refugees and tried to drown us."

  "Ah, so that is how a Neutral sees these events. Your interpretations are not correct but we lack the time to discuss these matters now. Know only that the ocean is essential. From Frame to Frame it may be ruthless or uncaring about individuals. We cannot understand its ways, but we can be certain its actions sustain the universe."

  "So it didn't just try to drown us?"

  "We cannot know the motives of the ocean, but if it had killed us then we needed to die."

  "Then why did we run? If the ocean knows all?"

  Anwyl looked at me but said nothing, giving me time to reflect.

  "Did we escape a flood or did the flood drive us here?" I paused and answered myself, mockingly. "That is not knowledge we little beings are given leave to possess." The diss lost its piss when Anwyl smiled approvingly.

  "As always, you learn rapidly, Nica," he said.

  Sincerity, the sarcasm killer, has ruined many a fine joke. I strode ahead into the village thoroughfare, where a few carts were tethered. I stayed mindful at cross-streets and I looked all ways to reduce the danger from oncoming donkeys.

  Actually, I would have liked to see a donkey. This place felt irrevocably deserted.

  We wandered into and around buildings, each of which had a frontage on a street and a property that stretched back into the verdant hills. Each building had a unique design. The materials were rough and unprocessed yet finely crafted, every edifice more art than construction. Signs outside the businesses were chiseled like woodcuts. Even the carts were master works, fit together without bolts or nails, pieces locked in place with butterfly wedges.

  Everywhere was beauty. The air mixed refreshment from the sea with strength from the fields. Every inhale improved my health. The crops were varied, lush, and ready for harvest. I nicked a blackberry from a roadside vine and it melted in my mouth, so sweet and soft that I felt responsible for the other berries, abandoned in these bushes. They were too good to leave behind. I grabbed a woven bag from a cart and filled it with berries, which Hernandez and I munched as we investigated.

  Moving closer to the hills, we found that the Frame was not entirely deserted. The air quivered with birdsong and the grasses rustled with the leisurely passage of meadow creatures, who kept their distance from us but showed no menace or fear.

  I'm a city person, but being here felt right, even to me. Now I understood how the natives of this Frame could know that other Frames exist, yet opt to stay home rather than Travel. When you live in paradise, you might have curiosity about unknown worlds, but leaving the sublime to explore the lesser might never quite rise to the top of your to-do list.

  The thousands murdered on the other s
ide of the Connector hadn't wanted to leave home. They had been forced out, to their doom. Seeing what they had been forced to leave made their fate all the more tragic.

  Most of their neighbors had accepted the deal to relocate for one year to the cul-de-sac Frame that could only be accessed from here. I dreaded bringing the relocated ones news of the slaughter, but I was eager to meet more of the folks who had made Halcyon so special. We headed toward the relocation Connector at the west end of town. As we moved west, Halcyon became less idyllic. The road, previously smooth, was here gashed with deep ruts. The meadow creatures hid in the grass, which was no longer green but gray. Birdsong grew faint and an offshore wind blew the ocean air away. The soil smelled marshy and metallic; the plants closest to the road were twisted with blight. The damage looked like that done to the rooftop garden at the Henrietta.

  We stopped midstep and stared at what had been our destination.

  Where the second Connector had been, there was a blackened tunnel that emitted drifts of gray foam, clots of wet ash, and an odor like the possum that got trapped in my attic during a heat wave. The Connector was impassable. Anwyl used his powers to determine that the damage extended beyond the Connector into the adjoining Frame. Those who had accepted the offer to relocate were just as dead as those who had refused the offer. For reasons unknown, someone had obliterated the trusting natives of Halcyon, along with tourists who happened to be in this wrong place at the wrong time.

  We headed back toward the flooded Connector, taking a path that wound between village and ocean. I was incapable of speech and believe my companions were in similar states of anger and grief. We detoured out to a small marina, where sailboats tapped against the docks in a gentle swell. One boat rocked more broadly on bigger waves, because its back mooring line was untied. Force of tidy habit compelled Hernandez to crouch and retie the line. His back stiffened at the same moment that I heard a sorrowful whisper I could not locate. It might have been inside my head.

  Safe passage. We beg you for this mercy.

  Hernandez looked over his shoulder at me and I nodded. "Yeah, I heard it too."

  Take us with you. The whisper came from the boat.

  Now the whisper panicked. Protect us from murder. Beware their tricks. Always face them! Turn now!

  Anwyl loomed behind us and warned, "You know nothing and saw little. Guard your thoughts and think not of this Frame." He shielded us from view until we could stand and join him in watching the approach of three stubby men with a trailing Entourage of a dozen more.

  The dock vibrated with their approach. The vibration had two rhythms. The trio undulated and bounced into one another as they enjoyed a seaside stroll - "Look! Is that another dolphin?" The Entourage stepped with discipline and precision, like palace guards under orders to enjoy a day off.

  "Oh, look who I see, Anwyl, ", Anwyl of all Frames and none." One of the stubby men waved a flamboyant greeting. The second called our way, “Well met, well met." After they occupied the ramp and blocked our return to land, the third said, "Our favorite adversary. The cycles have been kind to you, Anwyl, son of Rayn."

  Two of them bowed to us and said, "We are [extended gobbledygook that included a phrase that sounded like] Warty Sebaceous Cysts and most interested in learning more about our esteemed foe's companions." Between their words they emitted a persistent mosquito whine like a chop shop in your neighbor's garage.

  "These companions are of no import to mighty ones like yourselves," Anwyl told them, which alerted me to keep my mouth shut. As soon as I thought this, Right Cyst eyed me like the next course at a dessert tasting. Middle Cyst advanced until he was toe to toe with Anwyl; Left Cyst nodded at Hernandez, encouraging him to bolt and run. Or rather dive, as our only escape route was into the ocean.

  At a distance, the triplets suggested adolescent Napoleons raised on soda - lumpy and gross but not yet menacing. Arrived, they were humanoid Gila Monsters and radiated deadly tenacity. They would never stop pushing and grasping to get their way, and what they wanted would not be good for the rest of us.

  Their Entourage became eerily still after they stopped on the ramp. The instant I noticed how still they were, they developed tics and gestures that mimicked those of the Cysts. When Left Cyst tossed his head, the toss replicated through a third of the followers. When Right Cyst cracked knuckles, so did a different few of the Entourage. This was no creepier than a zombie mother-in-law. At least the Entourage seemed oblivious to us - until I thought that thought, at which all twelve of them swiveled their heads and slid their sunglasses down their noses to get a good view of me.

  Could they read my thoughts? I tested with, I hope those guys don't look back at those hills, and as a unit, they all turned to do so. Sometimes I process fear inappropriately: I imagined Pee Wee Herman snorting, "Ha, ha, made you look." I turned away from the Entourage quickly, before I could see their reaction. With the threat that emanated from the visitors, I expected Hernandez to tense and go into his combat mode, but instead he slouched and shuffled, a tourist restless to move on and see more sights.

  I had a rat inside my head, gnawing tugging snuffling for tidbits. I'd experienced this once before. That time, I'd also heard the Cobra's voice inside my head. What does it know? Someone in this group wanted inside my mind. To defend myself, I followed Hernandez' example and went vapid. Anwyl had dragged us to this empty, dull place - he was my client so I had to tag along, but now I was bored. I played with my hair, tucked it behind one ear; I tossed in a wordless whisper to Hernandez, who pointed to the dolphins.

  "What business have you here?" Anwyl demanded of the Cysts.

  "Like any Travelers, our business is our own." The Cyst who was toe-to-toe took a step back, putting air between them.

  "Yet we have nothing to hide," said Right Cyst.

  "We hurried to this Frame when we heard the cry for help, but, alas, we are too late," Left Cyst sighed. "There was an explosion during exodus to a new Frame, destroying the Connector and all nearby."

  "What would cause an explosion?"

  "Perhaps, as inexperienced Travelers, they carried combustibles."

  "We fear many may be dead and injured, and the rest could be stranded until the Connector can be repaired."

  "Theirs is a rudimentary Travel ability and they can only move by way of Connector."

  "Yet that Connector is of tertiary importance to the transport system, thus there will be a wait of many months before repairs are scheduled."

  "Oh dear, the poor things." Right Cyst burst into sobs. Small wet circles popped into existence, one by one, on the tunic of Left Cyst. The pattern mesmerized, and I continued to stare until I realized what was happening. His skin was erupting in large whiteheads that expanded then burst, leaving dots of pus. Eeuw! As I reacted, all dozen of the Entourage gave me disgusted looks.

  "We must find a way to rescue them."

  At about the same time, I thought, "Rescue! My ass!" The Entourage stared at me again. The Cysts remained focused on Anwyl.

  "Our incarceration has changed us," Middle Cyst said.

  "It must have so done," Anwyl said.

  "Do you not detect any changes?"

  Anwyl played along. "In the past, I have not known you to care about those in trouble, nor to be forthright about plans."

  "You are correct, Anwyl, son of Rayn. We understand now that life is precious and allies essential. In our effort to rescue those stranded by the damaged Connector, perhaps you might join our cause?"

  “The rescue of innocents is a noble quest."

  They fluttered and fawned. "Just so! Tell the Framekeeps this is your view! We need resources only they can grant."

  He threw his head back and howled. "I hold no favor there. I will speak for you, if you wish the Framekeeps to deny you."

  "Have they not forgiven you? Perhaps a time imprisoned would allow you to start fresh with them, as we have."

  The Entourage cackled over the notion of Anwyl, imprisoned.

  "Sage advic
e is always welcome," Anwyl replied.

  "Oh, and, by the by, what of Anya?" one of them asked softly.

  "What of Anya?" Anwyl repeated, softer still.

  Hernandez and I knelt to tease the fish that darted under the dock. We discovered barnacles and anemones on the underside of the planks and focused all our thoughts on them. This was an interesting vacation option. Ick would have liked it here.

  "The Framekeeps value Anya's counsel. Might she speak on our behalf in favor of rescuing the stranded? Could you ask her? Or is she beyond contact?"

  "I will let her know your request."

  "Aren't you cunning!" they laughed and turned away. An instant before the Cysts moved, the Entourage had spun around and stomped up the ramp that connected dock to shore.

  At the top of the ramp, the Cysts pirouetted to face us again. "And what is your purpose in this Frame?"

  Anwyl needed no time to think. "Nostalgia. My family took its holidays here. I wanted to see the place again and to share it with friends."

  "You travel with friends from a Neutral Frame. Would that we had your confidence when it comes to breaking Travel rules."

  "Perhaps I sought permission from the Framekeeps."

  They stared; the Entourage turned back to join the stare. Then the Entourage chuckled, shook its dozen heads, and turned away. The Cysts waved adieu. "Perhaps you did! Do enjoy your day!" We watched them head west toward the destroyed Connector.

  "Anwyl." I spoke too low for them to hear, yet at the sound of my voice, their departing steps skipped a beat. "Do we still have time to take a boat ride?"

  Anwyl and Hernandez looked at me with far more pleasure than any boat ride warranted.

  "If we depart immediately we may enjoy a brief excursion. Here, let us use this boat, it will serve our purpose as well as another." Anwyl jumped onto the boat at our dock. I copied his jump aboard and he showed me how to unfurl the sail. Meanwhile, Hernandez unhooked the ropes, pushed us away from the dock, and jumped on board.