The Gaming Outpost

Dark demons chased me, nipped at my hands, and shredded my body until I fell, and plummetted to dash my abused body…on the irregular surface of cool clay in the darkness. A goosebump ran up my unclad arm, and down the similarly shielded chest.

Two minutes ago, I had been standing bare-footed in the Nile River, splashing water along with my work crew on our break. Towering above us, the still uncompleted Sphyinx which before the end of the Ice Centuries was right next to the Nile. We were building it as a reminder to future generations of where the Tale of the Zodiac began, the Story that the Creator had placed in the stars telling of his plan of Redemption. In my world it had become a curiousity, and the source of a degenerate riddle instead of its truth. I hoped for better for this universe.

My shenti, a kilt-like linen, was thin enough that my workers near the river bank were pointing at me with open mouthed laughter, probably because a shenti is quite immodest when soaked, and I sent a splash of water back toward them. And then I heard a larger splash behind me, and with a feeling of true horror realized that my workers were not laughing at me, but yelling in fear, warning me.

I spun about, and saw that Phaedric the Paeleste (who’s descendants might include Goliath of Gath as the man was huge) was facing a killer of the Nile, the alligator in chest-deep water. Even he could not defeat such a monster, but he figured to fight it I could see from the tension in his huge shoulders, and give the other smaller men near us a chance to get back to shore.

I could escape.

I am a verser as Peter Andrews said (an ancient verser.) My life for theirs. I’m immortal. They have a flicker of a candleflame. Why should I be greedy when I have so much wealth?

I charged out toward the alligator, splashing and yelling.

“Get it on the side, Phaedric!”
“But…” He objected to my attracting the gator to me, to my taking his role as sacrifice.
“Now! Or I’ll whip you raw!” I howled.
“Yes, Gordon. May the God be with you.”

And my gambit worked. The alligator turned from the others, from Phaedric, and came at me. Its mouth was huge. Its teeth were so many, so very many, and I felt fear as I looked into the face of certain death. But I saw Phaedric coming up on my flank, and I knew that I would be revenged upon Death. For Phaedric, once he got his great arms around the back of the beast would crush it without remorse or relent.

And then I was yanked under, my legs snapped as the tail of the gator smashed into them. Before another second past, my mouth full of dirty Nile water, I felt the teeth on me, felt the gator take another gulping bite, and for the sheer novelty of it, opened my eyes.

After all, its not often you get to see the inside of a crocodile’s mouth from close up.

And then the crocodile shook me, and something went pop in my neck. Things went black, and I stood their with my Friend as we just smiled at each other.

==========

And then I was being chased by dark demons.

I woke from the versing integration nightmares into complete blackness, and still felt something nipping at my fingers. My fingers were wet. I pulled them back, and feeling about, found the edge of a pond or river in the pure dark.

I was laying in what I thought was a cave next to a pool filled with albino fish who had been nipping my fingers, I thought. Of course, it could be that I was on an abandoned space station, with my fingers trailing in the water of an experimental tank filled with a genetically engineered super smart kraken who had been tasting me to insert mind control bacterium into my bloodstream.

I was rooting for the first theory.

My shenti, held up by a girdle with one golden thread amidst the plainer red-dyed others (as I had been a little important, a work crew supervisor) was completely dry, but I shivered, and longed for the Egyptian sun.

I began to crawl toward my verser sense of things. Each verser has things they bring with them from universe to universe, and you could feel their presence, like a ‘hmmm, I left something over there, not sure what’ feeling. So I crawled, and prayed that I was not going to bash my skull on an unseen rock.

Soon, enough, my fingers closed on my kalasiri, a linen robe that went down to my ankles. Two feet further, I found my open-topped hat which was dyed with pictures showing the various worlds I had been too. Not that you could see such here. Still, I was not shivering, and with the hat to warn me of bumps, I felt as if I could go a bit faster.

Several bumps forewarned and carefully navigated, and aching muscles later, I took a break. I kept on, taking various passages, looking for a way to my gear. Sweat broke out on my forehead, and along my chest, and I pushed on.

Shortly thereafter I was shivering and chilled, and I stopped and huddled into a fetal ball. Too late, I remembered that letting yourself get sweaty in a cold environment was a very bad idea. So, I hoped, and waited out the shivers and banked on the fact that I was healthy and well-muscled.

My name is Gordon Guitteriez, Mexican on my father’s side, Scottish on my mother’s (Hence the name of Gordon. Mother wanted me to remember her ancestors too.) I’m five foot, nine inches tall, and weigh a hundred thirty five pounds of muscle. Being a Large Rock Movement supervisor in the building of the Sphynx sweats off any excess poundage. My skin is dark, but my hair is a curly red, and I’ve been told by more than a couple girls that I have ‘a very nice smile’.

So, I figured I’d get through this chill as I was in good shape. And about five minutes later, counting by my heartbeat, it was so. I was still cold, but not shaking. And my kalasiri was dry instead of sweat-drenched.

Taking more frequent breaks, I searched. When I reached four breaks, it occurred to me that the old Yankee joke might be true. You can’t get there from here. The gear was in the caves, but it was possible there was not connecting passage.

I squirmed through fat man squeezes, and under dripping rocks. After the wet rocks, I took the time to wait and warm up again. Finally, when I reached the tenth break, I forced myself to stop.

And with great reluctance, I moved away from the gear. Now, you cannot move directly away as what you sense does not tell you distance, but you can do vectors and geometry. I was not so good at geometry in my first world, in primary school, but after Lord Jhiaxus (another verser who believe it or not, serves Odin as personal troubleshooter, err axesmacker) showed me that vector trick, I made a special point of getting very good at geometry.

I went away, and hoped I was not in some place like the Underdark of Waterdeep, or the Labyrinth, I had heard tell of from another verser. I came back to water, and being thirsty, and desperate, drank. I did not instantly turn into a frog, or awake a vengeful naiad, so I drank more. Hopefully, the water was not superradioactive (a little radiation can be good for you…hormesis invigorates the body), or filled with diarhea causing bacterium.

Pushing onward, I found that I was so tired that I needed sleep. And so I did, being careful to pray for protection before I slept. Later, after an uneasy sleep, I woke. And I saw that a banded snake was pressed up against my belly.

Panic surged, but it hit the wall of my will and bounced. I did not move, and barely breathed. Especially when I felt a slither on my back. Evidently, some snakes had been attracted by my warmth and cudddled up to me, being cold-blooded creatures, to take a nap.

But that would mean they were native to the cave, and I had noticed no prey creatures in my explorations. Or, that they had come from outside. Something twigged at my brain.

Puzzled, I looked at the banded snake, and saw that I could see the yellow and brown bands, about a tenth of an inch wide running up and down its eighteen inch long body.

Umm. My brain struggled to wake up. I…I saw. Light. I was no longer imprisoned in the dark, and I felt tears of relief course down my cheeks as I threw my head back, and looked up to see the mouth of the cave thirty feet ahead. It was an irregular oval shape about ten feet across, and lit with the gray light of morning.

Relieved, I forced myself to wait. Eventually, I snoozed, and when I woke again, the snakes were gone. I scrambled to my feet, charged uphill, ducked around a stalactite stuck to the ceiling, and emerged into a chill piney maple forrest with few green leaves, and drizzle dropping from the silvery gray sky. Low clouds and green undergrowth over rocky hillside waited for me, as I stood there, half out of the cave mouth.

Shrugging, I went out into the weather. No way was I going to stay in my cave any longer. Wishful that I had chosen to wear my sandals to work, ah, yesterday, I carefully placed my feet not wanting a bruise or a sliced foot from the pointy, and occasional jagged rocks mixed among the brown vines with their bark shivered off in small peels that if dry would be excellent tinder.

I put off thoughts of fire, and warmth, and turned to climbing carefully downhill. And then it was climbing uphill, using my gear as a target to move away from. For most of the morning, I kept on with my stomach occasionally growling.

The day grew warmer, and eventually the rain stopped although the clouds never went away. And I came to a creek, and following ancient wisdom, I went down the small vales with it. After a couple hours, it had joined with two more, and became a sizable river of twenty feet in width.

Exhausted, I surveyed the dense thicket of trees near the life-giving water, and realized I would have to follow the river, but from a distance. Tired with lack of food, I made camp under a thick, blue-green spruce.

Later, after a fitful nap, I head some splashes, and went to investigate. Two large white-feathered birds with long spindly legs, and beaks of dull yellow six inches long were occasionally flying above the river with eyes down on it. Sometimes they landed on a stonebank in the river, similar to a sandbar, but made of round river stones, and their deep reddish black tailfeathers went skyward while their beak sought the ground. And they would come up with something small, translucent and wiggling.

Shrugging, I decided that if Mr. and Mrs. White could hunt for crayfish, so could I. I slipped and slid and wove between the thick green trees and bushes down the slope, and then plunged into the water. But the water at the edge was neck deep, and faster than I expected, and pushed me off my feet and away. I guzzled some water, and started flailing, but then came up on a shallow spot, and without more ado went up on an almost island of round stones, and out of the main current.

My feet were in six inches of water, and three feet away there was six feet of rushing water, but it was here I wanted to be for more than one reason. No crayfish would be in fast, deep water. So I looked, and spotted the little water insectile things by their spots, and their almost translucent, brown tinged bodies. The minnows were too fast for my hands, and although I’ve heard of American Indians catching big fish with their bare hands, I was too tired to try it.

Instead, I caught crayfish, and then slammed a rock on top of one after releasing it on top of another rock. Then I began eating it as well as I could, spitting out bits of shell. Not much food, and not that good tasting, but it was protein. I hunted on. After about eight, I felt chilled, so I killed a few more, and took them in the palm of my hand, and back up. But, given the quick current on that side of the river, I took the other side which was shallower, and had a more gentle, open bank.

On the other side, I crouched under an oak, and used a few spare branches I had found as a very poor windbreak, and then finished off the last of the crayfish before falling asleep.

The next day was much the same. And any fat I had was gone by now.

The third day I noticed the river had become passable by boats, not that I saw any. And I was staggering with weariness. I found myself sitting down at times, wondering later why I had stopped.

And then as night fell, I noticed the most delicious odor. It promised joy and fulfillment and life. So I staggered on, and over a hill, and then down a slope of manicured grass. From thence, I went onto sun-warmed asphalt that felt delicious to my cold feet.

I saw a parking lot full of automobiles, and laughing families entering what could only be a restauraunt sitting on a small bluff over the river I had been following. Knowing that I could not afford to be turned away, I searched, and found an openable water spout at the back of the eatery. Using it, I cleaned myself discreetly, and my clothing. I was then wet, and it was true horror to just sit there, and dry.

Finally damp, and unable to stand it further, I walked around the front of the eatery. A tall man, talking of music with his numerous family, and looking replete with good food gave me a curious look, but held the swinging glass door open for me, which I appreciated even as he and his horde were leaving. I was weak.

The next door was difficult, especially with just one hand, as I had to use the other to hold the kalasari close in around me to be modest. In this cool-weather land, most of the body was covered, and I was afraid to be thrown out if I appeared solely in my shenti.

Inside, the women, an attractive blonde, waited and I saw that others in front of me were giving her plastic cards which were probably food privilege cards, I thought, rather like the cafeteria card I had used in Lunagrad U. Others gave coins and paper money. I reached up into my hat, and pulled down the emergency money that Magehammer (another verser, frequently mistaken for Thor) had convinced me to carry.

I held out the small golden coin with hope to the pretty blonde, and she took it perplexed. And when we found that neither of us spoke any languages the other spoke. She made an open-handed ‘wait’ gesture, unless she were planning on fireballing me, but I thought not, and I raised my hands and dropped them in sign of aggreement. With a doubtful look, she scurried off.

I cared not for waiting. The room was square-built, a bit bare, but warm and well-lit. I stood in a corner, and waited while others came in and were served by a kindly looking brunnette.

A bit later, a harried looking man that I sympathized with as he looked much like the clerks I had worked with on the Sphyinx came up to me. He tried to explain something. I tried to explain that I wanted to eat, and he could have the gold coin. It was not working, but then my stomach rumbled, and we all three, the blonde, the clerk, and I laughed.

The clerk made a decision, and on his own authority, opened the box of cash under the counter, and gave me a hundred bills, and freedom of the food. I bowed to him, and a bit more awkwardly, he bowed back.

And then I went in to the food. And to my utter delight, not only was it hot food that I regcognized, but it was all you can eat. So many civilizations have not discovered this essential ingredient of civilization.

My hot plate soon held creamed spinach, and a large slice of steak, along with breaded shrimp. The waitress and I figured out what I would drink by my pointing at things on other’s tables. So I got a glass of water, and cup of steaming coffee with plenty of sugar.

On my next trip, it was bourbon chicken on the right side of the white plate, and on the left side was melting soft pot roast with vegetables. I was slowing a bit, but third time up, I had fish, a tilapia I believe, or something similar, and then mashed potatoes and macaroni with three cheese goodness and browned on the top in the way that Mama Grande used to make when I was a kid convinced that starvation was but seconds away.

Lastly, I got two plates of dessert. Chocolate covered macaroons, whipped topping on strawberries and pineapple chunks were one plate. The other plate was cobbler heaven, with peach, blackberry, and cherry a la mode’.

Following the lesson of the others around me, I left one of the bills, and not the smallest, but a ’10′ on the table for my waitress. She bid me wait with her hand, and came back with a to go cup of coffee, and a white jacket such as the men in the kitchen wore. She mimed shivering, and told me with hand gestures to go right after I left the restaraunt.

Which is how I found myself entering under a neon cross, and along with other dispossessed men, hearing the words of the Creator. Even if I did not know their language, it comforted me. And so did the rest upon a cot, even if half the men in the room snored like horses.