Surviving the Improbable Quest (9 page)

Baroon is next to him now. Allan slips the rope off his arm and ties one end into a loop. The rocks all around him shift and rumble. He’s about out of time, but how does he get Baroon’s mouth open?

“Hey Baroon. Come get me.” Allan yells.

The Lithic Fury Baroon turns its massive head to the side and considers Allan. It opens its long, wide mouth and thrusts toward Allan. Allan waits for only a moment. The mouth comes at him, fast. He’s only got a second, only one chance to do this right.
No hesitation.
Allan whirls the looped end of the rope like a lasso, holding onto the other end tightly.

The loop lands perfectly around the Baroon’s tooth. Just before Allan is snapped up he jumps. The rope tightens, which cinches the loop tight around the tooth. Allan swings through the air. The Baroon turns just as its tooth snaps off. Allan falls, but his metal legs absorb the weight when he lands on his feet. He tugs on the rope and pulls the tooth toward him. He snatches the heavy stone tooth off the dusty ground and holds it tight to his chest. There is an impression inside the rock-tooth that holds the key. The key is rusty and old, has long crooked teeth and has the letter ‘J’ cut out of the round handle.

Allan pockets the key as the stones all around him start to move. The sand under his feet rises. He’s hoisted in the air on a large arching stone. Allan slides down. When he lands on the dirt he runs. Rocks fall all around him. One hits his shoulder, knocking him down. Dust clouds his vision and makes him choke, but he runs faster. He sees sparks, shooting like miniature fireworks, popping from the gears of his mechanical knees.

He finally reaches the end of the dusty field of rocks. The hundreds of Lithic Furies should be chasing him. They might be slow to think, but they were quick in their attack. However, none of the towering rock creatures pursue Allan. They must know they cannot keep up with him so they stand and stare, defeated. The rock towers collapse one brick at a time.
They’ve given up. Are they dying? Can a rock thing ever really die? Do they feel the defeat? Were they around before keeping the key or created solely to be guards?
As the cloud of dust gets larger and comes toward Allan, he turns and runs. Allan feels a twinge of guilt and sadness.

Is it worth it? If Mizzi’s plan works Jibbawk will be gone for good. A lot of people will be saved. It has to be worth it. The survivors that live in Lan Darr will surely think so.

All Allan has to do now is get the key to Mizzi, and then he can go home. He runs for the pure pleasure of the wind in his face, which spreads joy throughout his body. He circles around the Lithic Fury territory and heads back toward the mushroom forest, hoping he’s heading in the right direction. There are more ruins out here, remnants of a much smaller town. The trees are crispy and burnt and the stones are black marked and crumbling. A fire tore through here a long time ago.

Allan turns onto a street. His elation implodes in his chest like the popping of a balloon. There, in between more ruins, stands a creature with a large sharp beak. It has thin arms with pincers at the ends instead of hands. Allan recognizes it. It’s Jibbawk!
It looks just like Rubic had described. How is this possible? How did Rubic know?

Jibbawk comes at Allan, but Allan is frozen in fear. He’s not sure what he’s seeing is real. But it is real. It is the feared Jibbawk. There’s one difference from Rubic’s description. It doesn’t have quills like a clown fish. Something else covers its body, something that moves. Bugs. Jibbawk is covered with thousands of large black bugs.

Chapter
14

Beetles that Became One

Allan can’t move or even think. In the fading light he sees not a huge bloody monster or a dagger-toothed beast adorned with muscles, but a thin figure that is already dead and just as terrifying. It has an entire city cowering in fear from its ruthlessness. It will kill Allan and enjoy it.

Jibbawk waves at him, taunting him, as it moves forward. Allan tries to step back, but he can’t. Bugs fall off of Jibbawk as it moves. They crawl to catch up to it. As Jibbawk approaches, Allan realizes Jibbawk isn’t dark because of the growing night. It is pitch black because the bugs are beetles as dark as black holes. It has red glowing eyes that emanate a heat from within them like a volcano ready to blow.

“I will have the key whether you give it to me or I take it from your dead fingersss,” Jibbawk says, reaching out for Allan. Its voice is hoarse, but steady. It feeds off Allan’s fear, breathing it in like pure oxygen. “Sss, I only want what I deserve,” it says. “When everything is taken from you by forcccce, is revenge not the only way to be whole again?”

It’s hard to picture this thing, this moving, churning, angry apparition as a scientist. It must have been pretty smart in order to manipulate genes and DNA and create the creatures on Lan Darr. If Mizzi is right, this thing might be responsible for the diverse life on this entire world.

Maybe Jibbawk made it all up a long time ago. Maybe it wanted everyone to think it was the God of this place, but it really wasn’t. Isn’t that what all megalomaniacs want, power over others?

Jibbawk reads Allan’s resistance and gives up its sympathetic appeal. “I made thisss, all of thisss, possible. Everyone owes me their lives. They should all be on their knees at my feet. And ssso should you!”

It’s patriarchal plea falls on deaf ears. The shepherd that’ll kill the sheep to keep them in line is no shepherd at all. It doesn’t look so smart to Allan, just ruthless and desperate.

Jibbawk lunges. Allan’s brain snaps into focus. He sprints in between two buildings and turns down a parallel street. He runs through another gap between buildings. Shadows from dead trees startle him. He gasps as he searches for a way through the thickets and the thorns and the boulders and bricks.

Every building is in ruins, but some walls are more intact than others. He looks over his shoulder. Jibbawk isn’t far behind. It is truly the most frightening creature in this entire world.

It doesn’t look like Jibbawk is running because the beetles that form its legs are shifting and rotating, moving like little wheels. To move faster Jibbawk bends down and lets its entire lower half break apart. Now the beetles roll Jibbawk along like it’s on a tank track. It makes a sickening clicking, snapping sound.

Allan’s belt beeps. He looks at the light where the battery crystal is. He’s used about half the power. He’s got three and a half hours before the legs are useless. So Allan runs harder. Fear courses through him in waves. He runs through another alley then down the street and rests against a pile of large bricks. It’s dark now. Jibbawk is nowhere to be seen. Allan can’t run forever. He needs a plan, some way to hide or to fight. But how can he fight a ghost made of beetles?

There’s a building that still has a roof and four walls so Allan ducks inside.

Immediately, he regrets his move. Hiding isn’t a good plan. If he’s found, he’s trapped. There’s no window, no hole in the wall and only one way in or out. A dry twig snaps just outside. Oh no! Should he run? Should he stay? Here he needs to make a quick choice again and he can’t. He’s frozen with indecision. Allan makes for the doorway, but Jibbawk steps into it. Allan scampers back to the far corner wanting to scream, wanting to fight, but able to do neither. Jibbawk takes one claw and scratches a large ‘X’ in the wall. The ‘X’ bleeds red. It places its pincers on either side of the doorway; beetles break off and crawl along the walls. They disengage from its feet as well. Jibbawk melts into the walls and floor as thousands of beetles come closer and closer. Their pincers snap, snap, snapping.

“That key is mine!” Jibbawk roars. “And ssso is your sssoul.”

Chapter
15

Rubic and the Dawn of Night

Half a galaxy away lies Rubic, still under the large boulder on the riverbank. Night has fallen and an owl stares at Rubic in wonder. A curious raccoon scuttles up to Rubic and sniffs his cheek. Its whiskers tickle Rubic’s skin and he wakes with a start. The raccoon sprints away, but the owl stays and watches. Rubic shivers. He’s confused, but for only a moment. Panic sparks his consciousness awake. “Allan! Allan!” He tries to move, but can’t. His entire right side is numb. A huge rock holds him in the mud, his arm lost underneath the stone’s massive weight. He twists his legs back and tries to push the boulder off.
How long have I been here?
The stars above him number in the millions, and the moon is big and bright. There’s a rustle in the trees. This is bear country, and he’s as vulnerable as a shish kebab at a dinner party. “Allan?” he says hoping the sound is his nephew. There’s no answer.

Rubic feels around under his body and starts digging out dirt and stones. The boulder starts to lean on him more. Pain destroys his thoughts in one fell swoop. He cries out to help relieve the pressure of pain in his brain. After a minute the pain settles. He notices a small rock dam that diverts the water around him. Keeping the water off him kept him alive. Allan must have built it.

“Allan! Where are you?” The only reply is from the crickets. “Crap, kid. You must be trying to get help. How are you gonna get anywhere without your chair?”

Rubic grabs one of the larger stones from the dam, being careful not to dismantle the dam completely. Moving carefully but quickly, Rubic props the rock on one side of his arm then grabs a similar sized rock and wedges it on the other side. He starts to dig under his arm again, one scoop at a time. After several scoops, the heavy boulder starts to fall again, but is held up by the rocks. He keeps digging until his arm moves. He yanks his arm out and rolls away. The two rocks give out and the boulder falls. The boulder splashes into the river in a surprisingly subtle motion.

Much worse than before, pain shoots up Rubic’s arm. His fingers are black, and he has a gash running up his forearm all the way to his elbow. It’s perforated and bleeding heavily now that the stone isn’t pinching the wound shut. Rubic unclips his paracord bracelet off his wrist. The bracelet is a braided military strength rope. From a pocket of his fishing vest he pulls out a pocket knife and cuts the end of the braid. It untangles easily and then he lays it across his lap. He cuts one entire lower pant leg off and uses it to wrap his arm. He then ties the paracord around his forearm using hand and teeth.

“Where did you go, Allan?” Rubic looks around. The shadowy forest watches him. Shivers echo throughout his muscles. He pulls his cell phone out of one of his many vest pockets, but it’s been assaulted by water. He throws it in a tantrum.

“Allan!” he calls out. The pain in his arm makes his teeth hurt. He can wiggle his pinky which is good. The circulation needs to return fully. If it doesn’t, the doctors will have to amputate his arm. The pain is too intense and he can’t hold his hand up. So Rubic takes the remaining paracord and fashions a sling that goes over his head and around his wrist to hold his arm up. The hand feels better. He breathes cool night air while ordering himself to relax.

Rubic gets up and sloshes across the moonlit river and heads back up the river toward camp calling for Allan. Rubic strains his eyes hoping to see tracks, but the ground is dark. He thinks he can see drag marks on the edge of the forest. But following it leads nowhere. If someone had to drag themselves through the forest they’d have to find the path of least resistance. Rubic tries to find this path, but can’t. Now he’s deep in the forest and it’s too dark to see anything. Instincts tell him to parallel the river. He hikes around a huge boulder and over fallen logs and up a steep incline. All the while he keeps the trickling sound of water within earshot and wonders how Allan would be able to drag himself through the ferns and over the sharp rocks and pine needles.

When Rubic gets to camp he sees his truck. It was pushed off the hill he’d parked on. Now it lay on its side, smashed against a large tree. He kicks the hood. The ranger station is at least eight miles down the road. Are there other campers who haven’t been swallowed up by the freak flood? Rubic likes this place because of how secluded it is, how quiet it is, and how far from the loudmouths and the mundane tasks of modern-day life it is. Now he wishes there were a few other loudmouths around to help him.

Rubic finds his cooler half-buried under mud and flips it open. The ice is still in cubes. He stuffs his mouth full of the lunch meat he brought and chugs some water. He unzips his first aid kit and pops four ibuprofen. His body feels as heavy as lead so he sits. Bending down sends pain out of his ribs and arm. Even in the blue moonlight he can see that his entire arm is purple and bruised. He takes some ice from the cooler and massages his arm. He calls for Allan, but only hears his voice echo off the nearby canyon walls and not a peep more. There should be frogs burping or crickets chirping, but there’s only a stony silence. There is no tent, no wheelchair, no firewood, no stove. Everything has been washed away.

Rubic starts hiking down the dirt road. The moonlight illuminates the road, making it appear plastic. It’s helpful because dark swaths of forest surround everything else. Eight miles downhill should only take three hours.

An hour later he sees lights approaching. He waves his good arm in the air and hollers. The truck pulls to the side of the road. It’s white with a blue stripe down the side and has the postal insignia on its door. In the back is a large bag full of boxes and letters. Rubic runs up to the driver’s door. “Hey! I need help. Me and my nephew were hit by a flash flood. I’ve been pinned under a boulder and knocked out. I woke up and he’s nowhere.”

“Oh never a dull moment up here,” the postman says. “I was wondering where all the water damage came from. I see it all the way down the mountain. A swath of water took out an acre of bushes. It’s crazy. C’mon, hop on in.”

Rubic runs around to the passenger side. “Thank you.”

“I’m Larry. I’m the mailman. You’re lucky I’m so late. Normally, I’d be at home watching the game on TV. Not too many people come up to this part of the mountain.”

“I don’t feel lucky,” Rubic says.

Larry gets on his walkie-talkie and calls the Ranger station. He turns to Rubic. “Help’s a-comin’.”

“Thank you.” Rubic sways. “I’m about ready to pass out. For once I’m thanking the postal service, not cursing it.” Rubic looks out the back window, expecting to see walrus creatures poking up from the potholes, but they aren’t there. He sighs.

“More mail every year. Someone’s got a mighty fine business up here, I guess. Plus, I deliver the mail to the residents that live up there past the glacier. It’s a year round hazard. I’ve got to fight walruses to get to their igloos.” Larry laughs. “Just kidding. But y’know, this narrow canyon is the main flood zone for the lake. I’ve never seen it, but folks say that every so often a large chunk of that glacier breaks off and falls into the lake. Yup. The lake overflows the dam and floods the valley. This one must have been a big break. Never seen anything like it,” Larry says, making chitchat.

Rubic is too worried, in too much pain and too anxious to listen to Larry. “Look, my nephew’s lost up here. We both were swept away. I just woke up. I’ve been out all day. My arm is…” Rubic shows him his purple, blood-splattered arm.

Larry clicks on the cabin light. “Good lord. You need a doctor.”

“Only after my nephew is found.”

“If he tried to go get help, he could have gone a long way in eight hours. Yup.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why’s that?”

“He’s paralyzed and his wheelchair was washed away.”

“Oh dear. I’m sorry, I’m going on and on. This is terrible. Let’s get to finding your nephew.” Larry hits the gas and drives toward the campsite. “We can have a search party out here lickety-split.”