Bridgers Box Set: Books 1-3
Date: 2018-12-10 05:00:00+00:00
Description: INCLUDES BOOKS 1, 2, and 3.Bridgers 1: The Lure of InfinitySome worlds are better left alone.Infinity Fowler has been fighting all her life. As a child, she had to fight for survival. Then she fought professionally. But when humans obtained the technology to bridge to alternate versions of Earth, she saw a chance for a new life. She signed up to become a bridger—an elite fighter and survival expert who protects tourists bridging to alternate worlds.Desmond Weaver is a tourist making a last-ditch effort to complete his PhD in evolutionary biology. He has booked the excursion of a lifetime, a da

Bridgers 1-3

An Apocalyptic Alternate Universe Series

Stan C. Smith

Contents

Bridgers 1: The Lure of Infinity

The Lure of Infinity

1. Incoming

2. Tremors

3. Briefing

4. Countdown

5. Bridge

6. Shelter

7. Rope

8. Contact

9. Mud

10. Pets

11. Curiosity

12. Students

13. Plans

14. Creed

15. Surprise

16. Interview

17. Extinction

Review Request

Author’s Notes for Bridgers 1

Acknowledgments

Bridgers 2: The Cost of Survival

The Cost of Survival

1. Storm

2. Bio-probe

3. Neverland

4. Fence

5. Hominids

6. Copper

7. Lorissa

8. Class

9. Trading Post

10. Fighting

11. Minutes

12. Inventory

13. Niloka-ree-roh-roh

14. Shelter

15. Plan

16. Survival

17. Rally

18. Rituals

19. Passerina

Review Request

Author’s Notes for Bridgers 2

Acknowledgments

Bridgers 3: The Voice of Reason

The Voice of Reason

1. The Burrow

2. Lexington

3. Water

4. Armando

5. Bio-probe

6. Quandary

7. Conversation

8. Weapons

9. The Herd

10. Abominations

11. Wild Land

12. Shenanigans

13. Reason

14. Venomcrook

15. Restraint

16. Darkness

17. Mongrels

18. Tiers

19. Manifestation

20. Conflict

21. Cipher

22. Tobias

23. Practice

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Review Request

Author’s Notes for Bridgers 3

Acknowledgments

About the Author

There’s More To This Story!

Books by Stan C. Smith

Copyright © 2018 by Stan C. Smith

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portraying in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

To those who see wonder in places
untrodden by human feet.

The Lure of Infinity

By their nature, intelligent species cannot resist the lure of infinite worlds.

Infinity Fowler

1

Incoming

July 16

Thirty-six hours can feel like a long time—even longer if you’re being hunted. Infinity Fowler pressed her naked body into the dirt and dead leaves of the forest floor. Small insects began biting her skin, but she was too exhausted to care. She thrust out her right hand, palmed the bare scalp of the tourist beside her, and forced his head down until his cheek was in the dirt.

“Stay down!” she hissed.

The tourist nodded. His eyes were wide, but he had a slight grin on his face, as if he were pleased to be getting his money’s worth.

Just beyond the tourist lay Infinity’s partner, Hornet. He was staring out through the low vegetation, his black body blending in with the shadows of the forest floor. Infinity cursed silently, regretting that she hadn’t taken the time to smear mud on her and the tourist’s pale skin.

Hornet’s muscles went rigid. He had heard something. Infinity turned slowly and gazed through the sparse saplings they had chosen for cover. She heard something faintly disturbing the leaves, perhaps a hundred feet out. At first she thought it was a squirrel or a bird. But a large body—even a cautious, deliberate one—created a subtly distinct sound. The creatures were coming.

She applied more pressure to the tourist’s scalp, a signal to stay still. The guy had been willing to work hard and even fight. But he was an idiot, and he was already bruised and bleeding from half a dozen wounds. Infinity and Hornet would be docked for every one of them. If they made it back alive.

The sound of crunching leaves was getting closer. If the creatures were moving through the forest randomly, there was a chance they’d pass by without incident. But more likely the creatures were tracking them, following the disturbed leaf litter. Infinity and Hornet had already underestimated the creatures’ skill and perseverance more than once.

Fight or flight? This was the fundamental dilemma every bridger was trained to face. And Infinity was a good bridger. The sun was low on the horizon, so their thirty-six hours had to be almost up. But how many minutes were left? She had no way to know for sure. If they ran now, they might gain a few more minutes. Or maybe not. If she and Hornet fought and won, they might gain another hour or more. If they fought and lost, the tourist might have a better chance to get away, as long as he started running now before the creatures were within sight. She knew what she had to do.

She released the tourist’s head. “Run,” she whispered. “Go as far as you can. Don’t stop. Hiding won’t help. Go now.”

He frowned. “No.”

She grabbed his head again and tried digging her fingernails into his scalp, but the dead tissue of her nails had been stripped away while bridging to this world. She snarled. “Run!”

“I’m not going to miss this.”

She stared at him, seething.

“Incoming,” Hornet whispered.

Infinity looked through the brush. It was too late—the creatures were close. She saw two of them creeping among the trees. They were no more than five feet tall, and their faces were butt-ugly, with ape brows and low, sloping foreheads. Neanderthals, most likely, or whatever Neanderthals had become in the last 100,000 years. Weird tattooed or painted patterns made their faces look menacing. They wore tight pants made of woven fabric that looked stretchable. Their upper bodies were wrapped tightly with dozens of colored cords, some stretched over each shoulder and some wrapped around the abdomen. Their long, blond hair was drawn into ponytails behind their heads, and a melon-sized pouch clung to the side of each man’s waist.

They may have been short, but their bodies were thick. They had already proven to be powerful, and they could run like goddamn cheetahs, at least for a few seconds. Each of them held a weapon in his hand, an atlatl-type thing with a fifteen-inch wooden handle that allowed them to throw heavy, foot-long darts carved from stone. These creatures were formidable, and Infinity wouldn’t underestimate the bastards again.

One of the creatures pointed at the ground, probably at blood drops or some other sign the humans had left behind. The creature spoke—the first time Infinity had heard them talk. His voice was higher and more feminine than she had expected, and the language included a lot of pops and clicks. Both of them erupted with what could only have been laughter. The bastards were having fun.

The creatures stopped. They sniffed the air. Infinity gripped the primitive spear lying beside her. Within seconds she’d be fighting for her life.

She turned to the tourist and whispered, “Hornet and I will try to kill them. Bridge-back is close. Only minutes. If they kill us, run.”

The tourist just grinned and nodded. He should have been pissing himself.

The creatures were looking straight at them. They had heard her talking. Infinity glanced at Hornet, and their eyes met. No point in trying to be silent now.

“We go to them,” she said. This would give the tourist the best chance to run.

Hornet nodded.

They jumped to their feet and charged. Naked. Weaponless except for crude spears made from saplings sharpened by rubbing the tips against a rock.

The creatures looked at each other and smiled, and then both of them let out high-pitched screams. They raised their atlatls to launch their stone darts.

Infinity kept running, but she dodged to the side to put a tree between herself and the creatures. She intentionally carried her spear in both hands to make them think she planned to wield it as a close-quarters weapon. But when the creatures were within ten yards, she darted from behind the tree and launched the weapon, surprising them. From the corner of her eye, she saw Hornet carry out the same maneuver from behind another tree.

But the creatures launched their darts at the same moment the humans left their cover. Infinity dove for the ground and a stone dart whistled over her.

“Jesus!” Hornet mumbled. He was sitting on the ground clutching his shoulder. A dart was protruding from his back, having almost passed through his dense body.

There was no time to check on him. Infinity got to her feet and closed in on the creatures. One of them had staggered back, a spear through his thigh. The other dropped his atlatl and pulled two weapons from the pouch at his side—a curved stone knife for his left hand and a heavy axe for his right. Ignoring his injured companion, he smiled at Infinity and gyrated the two weapons in a complex, almost artistic pattern, weaving them back and forth expertly. Probably a strategy to intimidate his assailants or throw them off guard.

Infinity scrambled to grab a fallen log the size of her leg. It was too heavy to be wielded as a nimble weapon, but that was why she’d chosen it. She approached the creature as if she were stupid enough to try to fight him with it.

“What the hell’s on this thing?” she heard Hornet say behind her. He was still on the ground—not a good sign. The stone dart must have been poisoned.

The injured creature was pulling the spear from his leg, but he was still on his feet, and soon he’d be able to fight. Things weren’t looking good.

“Tourist, this is where you run,” she shouted, keeping her eye on the creature and his gyrating hand weapons. She blocked with the log in case he was skilled at throwing either of them. Suddenly, she heard the tourist running, but he wasn’t running away. He barreled past her to attack the injured creature with his spear.

The creature facing Infinity saw what was happening, and with an almost-casual flip of his forearm, he threw his stone axe, striking the tourist’s head. The tourist collapsed, his body skidding several inches in the dead leaves before coming to a stop. Infinity cursed. There was no time to check on him.

On the bright side, now the creature before her was nothing more than a guy with a knife, which Infinity could handle. As the creature’s arm was recovering from throwing the axe, she launched the log, hitting him in the chest. She then kicked him in the nuts and simultaneously double-blocked his knife arm, a combo disarming move she’d practiced a thousand times and had used in more real fights than she cared to remember.

In nine out of ten fights, this move should have flipped the knife harmlessly out of an attacker’s hand. But this time it didn’t work. The creature was shockingly quick, and he managed to ignore the hit to his groin and counter-block with his free hand, resulting in insufficient leverage on his wrist. He didn’t release the knife. In fact, as she disengaged, Infinity felt the stone blade slice her forearm.

Time to switch tactics. The Neanderthal was too skilled with his knife to risk further elaborate moves. She needed to take this fight to the ground, and she needed control of that knife before it killed her. While he was still off-balance from her failed disarming move, she resorted to an animal-like attack on his knife arm. She grabbed his wrist, spun around with her back to him, and tore into his arm with her teeth. This move was another feint, intended to make him think she was desperate and unskilled. Before he could throw his free arm around and transfer the knife to his other hand, she executed her specialty power move, Uchi Mata. She threw her left leg back and up, forcing the man’s left leg off the ground. Using his mass against him, she pulled on his arm, hefted him over her shoulders, and slammed him headfirst onto the ground in front of her.

Astoundingly, the creature still hadn’t dropped the knife. So instead of trying to break it from his steely grip, she grabbed his knife hand before he could react, bent his arm at the elbow so the knife was above him, and slammed her entire weight onto it. Immediately his muscles began to spasm, indicating he was hurt. She rolled to the side, jumped to her feet, and stepped back to a safe distance.

The creature choked and spat and pulled out the knife, which had been lodged in his throat. It was bloody to the handle, and the wound was definitely mortal. So Infinity turned to face the other Neanderthal, who was still on his feet trying to pull the spear from his meaty thigh. Infinity picked up the tourist’s dropped spear and swung it at the man’s head, knocking him onto his back. She flipped the spear around and pushed the point into his mouth. The creature gripped the spear, gagging, and stared up at her. But its face wasn’t really human, which made her next act all the easier.

“Suck on this, you damn dirty ape.” Infinity put all her weight on the spear. She smiled to herself as she watched him die, pleased with her witty quip. She pulled the spear out and wheeled around, scanning the area for other potential threats.

The tourist moaned and rolled to his back. Blood was flowing from his forehead. Infinity stepped over and inspected his head wound. It was a nasty bump, but obviously the axe’s blade had not hit him on its sharp edge.

“Just perfect,” Infinity grumbled. She walked past the tourist and kneeled beside Hornet. “You going to be okay, partner?”

He was sitting up, holding the stone dart in his hand and staring at it. He turned to her.

“Oh shit,” she said. “You don’t look so good.” This was an understatement. Except for the pupils, his eyes were blood red. His lips were swollen and trembled uncontrollably.

He swallowed loudly. “How much longer, do you think?”

She glanced at the sky, but the trees hid the sun. “It has to be soon.”

The tourist got to his feet, swaying as though drunk. “Where’s my spear? We’ve got more company.”

Infinity followed the tourist’s gaze. He was right. Four more Neanderthal men were standing statue-still at fifty yards, taking in the scene. One of them spoke to the others, and they all smiled.

Infinity put her hand on Hornet’s shoulder. “Can you fight right now?”

He struggled to compose himself. Even his lips stopped trembling. “I won’t let you down.” He grunted and tried to get up.

“Never mind,” she said. “You’re in no condition to fight.”

The creatures let out the same high-pitched scream their fallen companions had. They charged, their atlatls held ready.

Abruptly the Neanderthals were gone, along with everything around them.

* * *

Infinity fell to her knees on the padded floor and retched. But she had done this enough times to keep from purging the meager contents of her gut.

She got to her feet. “The tourist is hurt!” she exclaimed. “Possible concussion or fractured skull. Hornet is hurt, too. Puncture wound to the upper chest or shoulder from a sharpened stone projectile, probably tipped with poison. He’s going into shock.” She then noticed Hornet was lying facedown on the floor, not moving. “He needs help, now!”

The airlock hatch to the circular, 30-foot bridging chamber opened. Six techs in white biosuits swarmed into the chamber and gathered around the tourist. He was on his knees vomiting, making it difficult to complete their cursory injury assessment.

The tourist finally caught his breath. He turned over and sat on his butt, wiping his mouth. “Can I have some clothes, please?”

Infinity shook her head in disgust. The idiot had thrown all his training out the window as soon as they had bridged thirty-six hours ago. He had refused to follow orders. He’d almost gotten himself killed more than once. She was immensely satisfied knowing he wouldn’t be given any clothes for at least three days—only after his patho-cleansing and chemo-cleansing were complete.

Three of the techs helped him to his feet, sat him in a wheelchair, and pushed him to the airlock. As soon as he was able to answer questions, they’d bring him to the post-bridge interview.

Once the tourist was gone, the three remaining techs turned their attention to Hornet.

“His pulse is weak,” one of them shouted. “We need a gurney.”

After the tourist had cleared the airlock to the next chamber, two more techs came through with a wheeled gurney. It took all five techs to lift Hornet’s body onto it. Moments later, Infinity stood alone in the bridging chamber. For the first time, she had the chance to look at the knife wound on her forearm. It was deep. She’d need stitches. It was still bleeding, but not much. No big deal.

“Infinity, do you require medical attention?” The voice had come from a speaker in the ceiling. It was Armando Doyle, Supervisor of Bridgers, Bridge Manager, and CEO of SafeTrek Bridging.

“Maybe a few stitches,” she replied. “Worried about Hornet.”

“Let the med techs worry about it. You know they’re the best. Do you think you can do the post-bridge interview?”

Glaring at Armando through the plexiglass window, she used her right hand to wipe some of the blood from her arm and flung it onto the floor in defiance. “Let’s get it over with.”

* * *

Infinity and the tourist entered the sealed interview chamber, both of them still naked except for the gel packs that had been quickly taped over their wounds. Everything else could wait. They both could have been infected by parasites that would soon kill them, but as long as they were capable of speaking, the post-bridge interview always came first. This rule was written into SafeTrek’s contract with the consortium of universities that had helped fund the facility. They wanted access to information while it was fresh in the minds of bridgers and tourists.

Four men sat on the other side of thick plexiglass, including Armando Doyle. He sat there with his goofy bowtie and gazed at Infinity, like an annoying fatherly figure. She had never seen the others before. The guests were different every time, usually from one university or another. The room used to be full after every excursion, but these days the crowds were sparse. The world was losing interest in bridging. Except for tourists.

Before sitting down, Infinity faced the men. “Go ahead, take a look. After that, focus on me, not my tits.”

Armando shook his head at her, but she stood still for several seconds and then sat down behind the barrier designed to conceal only the area below the waist. Like everything else in SafeTrek, the chamber was configured for males.

“You can take a look at me, too,” the tourist said, displaying his usual overconfident smile, like everything was a game. Actually, with his wealth everything probably was a game. He slowly turned in a circle before sitting down.

The three academics looked a little perturbed, but Armando simply frowned and got straight to business. “We’re recording, Infinity. Do you want to start with world specs?”

She nodded. “Forest, plants, and weather pretty much like ours. Surprising, considering a 100,000-year divergence.” She was referring to the fact that the tourist had requested a world that had diverged from Earth 100,000 years ago.

Armando turned to the academics. “The client was interested in seeing an alternate path human evolution has taken since their first contact with other hominid species. Although I believe his interest was recreational rather than academic.”

The men nodded with furrowed brows, as if they considered a recreational excursion to be a waste of time.

“I’m sitting right here,” the tourist said. “I can speak for myself. It turns out 100,000 years was a good choice on my part. I saw exactly what I was hoping for. In that timeline, Neanderthals probably wiped out humans—Neanderthals were all we saw.”

“We saw at least six,” Infinity said. “All were nonhuman. Maybe Neanderthal. Maybe some other species. We only covered a few miles, so we don’t know if humans also existed on the same world.” She knew at least one of the academics would want a full description of the creatures, so she described them in detail.

“These things were badass,” the tourist said before she could finish her recounting. “I think they were out hunting for pleasure, like when we go big game hunting. Only these guys used handheld weapons, like it was a matter of pride to them. The minute they spotted us, they started hunting us.” He smiled and shook his head. “They were badass.”

Infinity rolled her eyes. This guy never quit. The academics would want details on the Neanderthals’ weapons, so she described them.

“Can you describe any of the plants you saw?” one of the men asked. “Particularly any that were unusual?”

“I don’t know much about plants,” Infinity replied. “To me they looked like the plants outside this building.” Then she sighed. “Maybe you should bridge somewhere yourself.”

Armando frowned at her. “A little respect, Infinity.”

She shrugged and nodded. She was the best bridger at SafeTrek, so Armando usually cut her some slack. Still, she would be nothing if he hadn’t hired her. If he wanted her to behave, she would at least try.

“I saw some birds,” she offered. “I’d never seen birds with feather markings like these had, but their basic shapes weren’t much different. Saw some squirrels. At least three wild cats smaller than bobcats. No deer or anything like that. Perhaps Neanderthal hunters killed all those.”

This was followed by a stream of questions about details, like the smell of the air, the color of the sky, the weight of the Neanderthals, their language, their clothing, and any signs of disease or malformations. She answered the questions the best she could. Lucky for her, the tourist had finally shut up. Probably bored.

The academics listened attentively to every word. And they frantically scribbled notes, even though they knew they’d get a copy of the interview video.

The questions were finally beginning to slow down when Armando held a finger up so he could listen to someone talking to him in his earpiece. He frowned and shook his head. “Thank you, Celia,” he said. He looked through the glass at Infinity. “I’m sorry to tell you this. Hornet didn’t make it. The techs think you may have been correct. Poison on the stone dart.”

Infinity stared down at her hands in her lap. The tourist next to her was talking. Something about Hornet being a badass, too. She shot up from her chair and glared at him. For just a moment she considered pummeling the idiot. But bridgers didn’t harm tourists. Ever. Instead, she slammed her fist into the plexiglass. She hit it again, hard enough that the gel pack on her forearm flew off and her blood splattered the clear barrier.

The academics drew back, eyes wide.

Armando stood up. “Gentlemen, we’ll end the interview here if you don’t mind.” He then motioned them to the door.

The tourist said, “Can I go now, too? I have a splitting headache.”

Armando nodded, and a tech came through the hatch and escorted the tourist out.

Armando turned to Infinity once they were alone. “Are you finished, kiddo?”

“Don’t call me that. Not right now.”

“I’m sorry.” He sat silently for a moment, tugging on his bowtie with two fingers. “And I’m sorry about Hornet. He was a good bridger. Maybe the best.”

She studied his face. When she saw the slight grin, she relaxed a little. “Good, but not the best,” she muttered. He was only trying to cheer her up.

His smile broadened. It was genuine, not forced. “His salary will go to his beneficiary for five years. That’s the deal.”

She just shook her head. Like her, Hornet had no family to speak of. He had never told her who he’d chosen as his beneficiary. He’d been a drifter before signing up at SafeTrek, so probably some kid somewhere who didn’t even know he had a father.

“Well, after your cleansings, take three days bereavement. Or whatever it is you like to do when you lose a partner. Then I need you back here. We have a rather unusual excursion coming up. I want my best bridgers involved.”

Infinity eyed him warily. “Coming up when?”

“Could be as soon as August third.”

“That’s three weeks. How in the hell am I supposed to—”

He held up a hand. “You’ll be paid double for the upcoming excursion. Plus, you won’t be docked for bringing your tourist back tonight with eight qualifying wounds to his body and possibly a concussion.”

Now she looked at him with outright suspicion. “What are you getting me into?”

“Like I said, it’s a rather unusual excursion. The clients will arrive August first. You’ll train them on the second. If our first bio-probe is successful, the bridge could take place August third. But they’ve blocked out the entire month in case it requires multiple bio-probes.”

Infinity slapped her palm on the plexiglass, smearing her own blood. “Two things about what you just said are screwed up. What do you mean, clients? I’m not taking two tourists again.” It was always difficult babysitting one tourist. She had taken two before. It was too risky, too damn chaotic.

“No, you’re not,” he said. “You’re taking three.”

She pressed harder against the plexiglass and the seams began to creak under the pressure. “You’re not serious.”

Armando glanced at the seams but refused to show concern. He nodded. “They’ve got the money. In fact, they’ve pre-paid. They’re going, Infinity, and you’re taking them. You and the bridger you choose for your new partner. Next question.”

She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing. She was almost afraid to ask her next question. Tourists got to choose how far back the point of divergence would be. If the destination world had diverged from ours five minutes ago, it would be virtually identical. If it had diverged a year ago, there might be noticeable differences. A lot can happen in a year. With a divergence 1,000 years ago, civilization could look quite different. At 100,000 years, humans may not even exist, as with this latest fiasco. Neanderthals or some other species could have gotten the upper hand at some point. Infinity hated bridging to worlds that had diverged much beyond 1,000 years ago. Things got too unpredictable. She could fight any human alive, because she understood how humans fought. But as she had been reminded today, it was hard to know how a nonhuman would fight.

She opened her eyes slowly. “And why do you think the first bio-probe won’t be successful? How far back do they want the divergence?” The bio-probe was how SafeTrek found an inhabitable world, one that didn’t have toxic air, lethal temperatures, or some other instant-death deal-breaker. Worlds with divergence in the distant past were much more likely to be uninhabitable due to all the possible environmental changes that could have occurred during that time.

Armando forced a smile. “You might want to sit down first, kiddo.”

She pushed even harder on the clear barrier. “Just spit it out.”

“The clients were very specific in their request, and they were willing to pay all additional fees.” He hesitated. “You’ll be escorting them to a world that diverged from ours eighty million years ago.”

2

Tremors

August 2 — Seventeen days later

Desmond Weaver felt the ground shaking, which broke his concentration. He lowered his guard for a moment, and the four-foot dinosaur maneuvered around his crude, two-pronged spear and went straight for his throat.

“You’re dead, Weaver. Again.” The trainer known as Razor shoved the pole with its attached dinosaur, smacking Desmond in the face with the ridiculous rubber creature.

“I felt another tremor,” Desmond said. “It distracted me.”

Desmond’s college roommate, Xavier Cahill, looked at his watch. “That’s three tremors in the last hour.” Xavier was the only guy Desmond knew who actually wore a watch. He and Desmond’s other roommate, Lenny Stiles, were standing on the sidelines waiting for their turn to battle the fake dinosaur with their own hand-made spears.

Lenny said, “I’m telling you guys, we’re at the cusp of a zip-banging bitch of an apocalypse. Mark my words.” Lenny had been saying that for a year, since the quakes and unusual weather had started.

“Again,” Razor said, and he held the dinosaur out, ready to attack.

Desmond sighed and raised his spear. The two-pronged spears would be the first weapons they’d make after bridging to their destination world, assuming there were any plants with suitable stems. Razor had explained that spears were the easiest weapons to make with their bare hands. Anything shorter than a spear was pretty much useless against animal attacks. He had demonstrated that almost any predator could be held at bay with a long spear, even if the creature had a five-foot reach with its teeth or claws.

Desmond sparred with the dinosaur again. This time he managed to puncture it with one of the sharpened tips, but this only triggered Razor to animate the creature more vigorously, as if it had become enraged. Seconds later, Desmond received another embarrassing smack to the face.

Razor grunted, “You’re dead, Weaver. Again.” The guy wasn’t prone to long speeches. He often spoke in one-word sentences. Razor was a completely hairless, lean fighting machine. According to the SafeTrek website, for twenty years he had trained U.S. Army soldiers in hand-to-hand combat. And since the start of their training early that morning, he had made Desmond, Lenny, and Xavier realize, beyond any doubt, that they knew basically nothing about defending themselves. But to his credit, he had taught them two things: first, tourists had to allow their bridgers—in this case Razor and his partner Infinity—to protect them if there was any kind of attack. And second, they learned a few basic skills to help them stay alive if both bridgers were killed.

“Again,” Razor said.

Desmond jammed the butt of his spear into the grass at his feet and held it vertically. “Razor, I see what you’re trying to do. But training for a few hours isn’t going to make us effective fighters. It’s a safe bet there won’t be humans on our destination world. And honestly, I’m betting there won’t be dinosaurs either. The chances are slim.”

Razor shook the rubber Dinosaur. “You know what predators will be there?”

“That’s the whole idea,” Desmond said. “There’s no way to predict which megafauna will have become dominant in a complete do-over of the last eighty million years.”

“Exactly.” He shook the dinosaur again. “Defend yourself.”

Xavier got to his feet and stepped forward. “Desmond is right. It would be a better use of our time if we were to train you to help us make the observations he needs for his dissertation. If we’re attacked by predators, you guys will protect us. That’s your job, isn’t it?”

“Don’t answer that, Razor!”

The demand came from Razor’s partner. Other than having briefly introduced herself after breakfast, this was the first time she had spoken. For the last three hours she had been sitting atop a boulder at the side of the training field behind the SafeTrek building, silently watching the training exercises. Desmond had finally decided she must have been meditating.

She unfolded her legs, got to her feet, and jumped to the ground. She landed lightly and approached the group. She wore nothing more than a tight-fitting sports top and shorts, like a mixed martial arts fighter. Which was exactly what she had been before joining SafeTrek. Unlike Razor’s smooth scalp, her head had a few weeks of hair growth. A fresh, brightly-colored tattoo of a bird covered most of her chest, in contrast with the smaller, faded SafeTrek tattoo on her arm. Scars of various sizes and stages of healing adorned the rest of her body, including a recently-stitched three-inch slice on her right forearm. To Desmond, she was intimidating, but she was also beautiful in her own scary, look-at-me-wrong-and-I’ll-slit-your-throat kind of way. Her name was Infinity Fowler.

She stopped in front of Desmond and Xavier. Lenny was still sitting, and she snapped her fingers at him and then pointed at a spot on the ground next to Desmond. Lenny quickly got up and stepped to the spot. Razor stood to the side with his arms crossed.

Finally, she spoke. “When we’re together, who’s God?”

After several seconds of silence, Desmond looked at Xavier and then at Lenny. They just shrugged, offering no help.

He turned back to Infinity. “You are?”

“Wrong. You are.” She glanced at Lenny and Xavier. “And you, and you. Why? Because I’d die to save your life. How about you, Razor?”

“Damn right I would,” he said.

She stepped closer to Desmond. Uncomfortably close. “We’re bridgers. We’d die to save you from a flesh wound, tourist. How does that make you feel?”

Again there was silence.

“I guess I feel lucky,” Desmond said. “And safe.” He then tried to hold her intense gaze without looking away.

She broke eye contact first. Her eyes moved down to his t-shirt, and then to his khaki shorts, and finally to his water sandals before moving back to his face. “You don’t think our exercises are very real.”

“I didn’t say that. It’s just that—”

“You’re right.”

Desmond wasn’t sure how to respond. He just shook his head.

“So far it’s not real,” she said.

Razor nodded. “Let’s make it real.”

Suddenly they both peeled off their tight shorts, and then Infinity pulled her sports top off over her head. They stood buck naked, staring at Desmond, Xavier, and Lenny.

The silence reached a new level of uncomfortable.

“Bridging strips away nonliving matter,” Infinity said. “You come out the other side like you came out of your mama—naked, bald, and scared. For most tourists we don’t get real until after lunch. But you’re ready. Shed your clothes.”

Lenny smiled and said, “I figured this was coming. I got no problem with it.” He started stripping.

Desmond sighed. They’d all be naked together for the thirty-six hours of the excursion. Might as well get used to it now. He flipped his sandals off.

“I’d like to request to leave my underwear on,” Xavier said. “I see no reason to go this far before bridging.”

Desmond had been Xavier’s roommate long enough to suspect something like this might happen. He frowned at Xavier and then turned to Infinity to see how she would handle it.

She was eyeing him back. “You in charge?”

Desmond shrugged as he removed his shorts. “Xavier’s paying for the whole thing.”

“Who talked who into it?”

He forced a half grin as he removed his underwear. “That would be me. I’m doing this for my dissertation. I need their help with observations.”

She nodded. “Then you’re in charge. You’ve got a problem. You have one minute to fix it.” She then stepped over to Razor and they began talking softly.

Desmond turned again to Xavier and Lenny. “I had no intention of being in charge.”

Lenny was naked now. He held up both hands. “It’s all zippity-doo-dah with me, Des. You can be in charge.”

Xavier was frowning. “I don’t care who’s in charge. But I’m not comfortable removing my underwear until we absolutely have to. Especially in front of her.” He tilted his head toward Infinity.

Desmond shot a glance at the bridgers. She had said one minute. What would she do if this took longer? He turned back to his friends. “Okay, here’s the way I see it. This is costing half a million apiece. That’s one-point-five million dollars. It’s your family’s money, Xavier. You want to waste it all by screwing this up?”

Gazing at Xavier, Lenny nodded. “It’d be wicked-crisp if you’d just shed your damn shorts, man.”

Xavier mumbled something and started taking them off. “Why do you have to talk that way? What does wicked-crisp even mean? You just made it up.”

Lenny smiled. “Wicked-crisp, man. It means everything you aren’t. There’s stuff that is wicked-crisp, and then there’s you.”

Desmond ignored their banter and turned back to the bridgers, involuntarily putting one hand over his groin. He called out, “Problem solved.”

Infinity walked over and faced him again. “Like I said, you’re in charge.” She reached behind Desmond’s head and pulled the end of his ponytail around to the front. “How long did it take you to grow this?”

“I don’t know. Couple years.”

She stroked the hair like it was a pet. “Too bad.” She looked him in the eye. “Desmond’s a pussy name. We’ll call you Decay.”

She turned to Lenny. “Lenny’s a pussy name, too. We’ll call you Lynch.”

Lenny smiled like a teenager. “I can live with that.”

“What’ll you call me?” Xavier asked.

She shot him a quick glance. “Xavier suits you fine.”

Desmond said, “If you don’t mind, I’ll keep my own name. And Lenny will, too. It’ll facilitate communication.”

Infinity raised her brows, although they were merely stubble, still growing back from her last bridge. “Earn them back by the end of the day. Starting now, things are gonna be real. This way.”

She and Razor then walked off the manicured lawn of the SafeTrek training field and into the sweltering, bug-infested Missouri forest.

* * *

An hour later they were still walking. Desmond was trying to guess how far they’d come when he felt the ground tremble again. He needed to inspect his feet for thorns, so he spoke to the bridgers, hoping they’d stop to answer his question. “What do you guys think about all the recent earthquakes?”

Infinity and Razor paused and frowned at each other. “You’re the scientists,” Infinity said.

Desmond noticed his left foot was bleeding, and his legs had been scratched by weeds from the knees down. He also had a few cuts on his arms and a few dozen mosquito bites. Xavier and Lenny stopped just behind him and began checking their own bodies.

“We’re all biologists, not geologists,” Xavier said. “But I’ve read speculation that rising ocean levels from global warming are affecting the tectonic plates in some ways no one had predicted.”

“We’re screwing ourselves big-time,” Lenny added.

Desmond said, “I just thought since you guys are bridgers, you’ve seen things no one else has seen. Alternate versions of Earth. I thought maybe you’d have a different perspective.”

Razor simply shook his head.

Infinity said, “Some idiots blame the bridging centers.”

Desmond was glad she hadn’t forced him to bring this up. There were seven bridging centers around the globe, and since the first one had been created four years ago, conspiracy theorists had come up with all manner of doomsday scenarios. And when the weather events and tremors had started, they had all gone into paranoia overdrive. “Yeah, but as far as I know they don’t have any evidence to support the notion. I was going to ask your thoughts on it.”

She shrugged. “I’m just a bridger.”

The bridgers turned and continued leading them to some unknown destination.

“Where exactly are we going?” Xavier called out.

“We’re walking,” Razor replied.

“But where are we walking? My feet are bleeding.”

Infinity grabbed Razor’s elbow and the two bridgers stopped. She said, “Good. Maybe you deserve a non-pussy name after all. But it shouldn’t take you so long to ask the right questions. Now that you ask, we’re not walking anywhere. We’re just walking. And now that you’re aware of how to do it wrong, it’s time to learn how to do it right.”

Razor pointed at the ground. “Every step, choose where you put your feet. Avoid rocks, they can cut you and they can be slippery. Avoid sticks, they can break and reveal your presence. Avoid brush, the stems can scratch, and the leaves can inject painful histamines, like stinging nettles. Or they can secrete rash-inducing compounds, like poison ivy. When you’re naked, everything can be a threat. Be aware of your surroundings, no matter how insignificant things seem.”

This was the most Razor had said at one time.

Xavier said, “You mean we walked all this way because you were waiting for someone to ask where we’re going?”

“Walking naked in a harsh environment is real training,” Razor said. “After we bridge, that’s what you’ll be doing. Now we’re going to walk back, and you’re not going to have one additional scratch when we get there.”

Lenny laughed. “I love these bridgers, Des—I mean Decay. They’re the real deal.” He turned to Razor and Infinity. “I’m one-hundred percent on board. Lead the way.”

“You don’t get it, Lynch,” Infinity said. “You’re leading the way back.”

* * *

When they finally emerged from the trees onto the training field, the sun had dropped behind the forest canopy. Desmond was drenched in sweat. But he had to admit the experience had made him more confident. He now knew he could move through a wild environment while naked without killing himself in the process. They had learned to negotiate deep ravines without cutting their feet, climb trees without scraping their skin off on the bark, and pass through thick and thorny brush without losing an eye. They had even practiced sitting perfectly still, not moving a muscle or even blinking, which Razor had said was the most effective way to avoid predators.

A large pan of pasta with white sauce was waiting for them on a picnic table, kept warm atop an electric heating coil. The idea was to load up on carbs, since they might bridge as early as tomorrow morning. It was likely they wouldn’t eat anything during the thirty-six-hour excursion.

They heaped food onto plates and sat at the picnic table beneath the looming block-like SafeTrek building. Their clothes were neatly folded at one end of the table, but now they were beyond caring about being naked, and no one bothered to expend the energy needed to get up and put them on. They ate in silence until they had all finished the food on their first plates and loaded them up a second time.

“Have we earned our real names back yet?” Desmond asked.

Infinity scooped some pasta into her mouth. She shrugged. Then she nodded.

“Thanks,” he said awkwardly. “Speaking of names, what’s up with Infinity? And Razor? Those aren’t your real names, are they?”

“They are to you, tourist,” Razor said.

Xavier spoke while stirring his pasta around on his plate with his fork. “So that’s how it’s going to be, even after we almost killed ourselves trying to make you guys happy?”

“It’s a bridger thing,” Infinity said. “We take on new names when we come aboard. Like becoming a Ramone.”

Lenny dropped his fork. “Zippity-what? The Ramones? Infinity, are you trying to make me fall in love?”

Infinity and Razor turned to Lenny with glares that made Desmond worry Lenny was about to get punched in the face.

Lenny picked up his fork. “Sorry. I was just….” He went back to eating.

“What are the names of the other bridgers here?” Xavier asked.

Infinity spoke around a mouthful of food. “Seven bridgers at SafeTrek. Three partner pairs and one backup. Others are Wraith, Trencher, Viper, Falcon, and Fang.”

“That’s awesome,” Lenny said. He seemed to have recovered from the embarrassment of his tactless faux pas.

Desmond wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to his next question, but he asked anyway. “Why is there a backup bridger?”

Infinity and Razor exchanged a glance. “Bridgers do excursions in pairs,” she said. “If we lose a partner, we get a new one.”

Desmond wondered how often this happened, but the way the bridgers suddenly looked down at their plates made him think better of asking.

Xavier shoved his empty plate to the center of the table. “So, what can we expect for tonight?”

“What time is it?” Infinity asked.

Xavier looked at his watch, which he hadn’t removed when he had stripped down. “Just after 6:30.”

Razor and Infinity both took one more bite and then stood up.

“Time to go,” Infinity said. “Put your clothes on. They want you there for the bio-probe results.”

* * *

The bridgers led them back into the SafeTrek building and through several long corridors to a small, empty room. One wall consisted of a thick plexiglass window into the next room, which was larger but also empty.

Soon after, they were joined by Armando Doyle, who was apparently the bridgers’ boss. He was also the man who had happily accepted their million and a half dollars. As he stepped into the room, he made a comical gesture of grabbing his bow tie with both hands and rocking it back and forth. He then maneuvered awkwardly around Infinity and Razor to get to the tourists to shake their hands vigorously.

“I trust your orientation day has been adequately productive.” He looked them up and down. “You certainly look less haggard than most of our clients at this stage of the game. Well done. Well done indeed. We’re all quite proud of Infinity and Razor. You’re fortunate to have them on your team.”

The two bridgers stared at Doyle as he spoke. They didn’t nod or smile.

“I think we all feel ready for our excursion,” Desmond said.

Doyle glanced at the smartwatch on his wrist. “Right, on to business. At precisely 3.6 seconds after 7:00 PM, we will learn the results of our first bio-probe. Often a first bio-probe will be successful, and I’m optimistic yours will be as well. But due to your rather unusual excursion specifications—specifically an eighty-million-year divergence—success is not guaranteed. If the bio-probe is unsuccessful, we will begin a second bio-probe tomorrow at 7:00 AM, with the results coming thirty-six hours after that, at 7:00 PM the following evening. And so on, until we have a successful probe.”

“Something I’ve been wondering about,” said Xavier. “Why are bio-probes and excursions always thirty-six hours? Why not make them twenty-four hours, or forty-eight?”

Doyle smiled and nodded. “Of course, all will be explained. But certain details of our operations will only be revealed after we have a successful bio-probe, indicating a safe destination world, upon which you will sign our non-disclosure agreement. Provided, of course, that you still plan to proceed with the excursion.”

Xavier huffed out a laugh. “Considering you only refund half the cost, I don’t think we’re going to change our minds.”

Doyle smiled broadly. “People never do.” He looked at his watch again. “Almost time. A bit of explanation is in order. Our bio-probe is quite simple. As I’m sure you know, nonliving objects and matter do not make it through a bridge. So we can’t send probes or other measuring devices. Our only choice is to send a diverse set of living mammals to the destination world. Thirty-six hours later, when they return, we analyze their condition. If they are intact and reasonably healthy, we then allow you, our clients, to make the final decision as to whether you want to bridge to the same location. This is why you are here in this room. We want you to see the returning test animals yourself, so that you may be confident and well-informed in your decision.”

Doyle pointed through the clear barrier. “The test animals will appear at the vertical and horizontal center of the chamber. They will be a few inches apart from each other, regardless of their spatial arrangement in the alternate world. They will fall to the padded floor, and then our techs—wearing protective suits—will immediately enter the chamber to evaluate their condition. Our standard set of test mammals includes two Dorset sheep, two Florida white rabbits, two domestic cats, two guinea pigs, two rats, and two mice.” He glanced at his watch yet again. “Less than a minute. Any questions?”

Desmond had a million questions but decided to wait and see what would happen.

They arranged themselves so that everyone had a clear view into the chamber and then waited. Desmond could feel his heart beating as the seconds passed.

“Watch carefully,” Doyle said.

The air in the larger room wavered visibly, and then the plexiglass window flexed outward toward the observers, as if the pressure had suddenly increased in the chamber. A group of shapes appeared and abruptly dropped to the floor. Some of them floundered for a moment and began running around the room, obviously terrified. Others didn’t move at all. A few of them, in fact, appeared to be nothing but piles of dark goo. All of them were totally devoid of hair.

Doyle clapped his hands together. “Astounding—the first bio-probe is a success!”

A hatch to the chamber opened, and white-suited technicians swarmed in and began rounding up the creatures. Working in pairs, one held an animal still while the other took readings with skin-surface thermometers and miscellaneous other probes. Two technicians moved directly to the center of the room to evaluate the animals that weren’t moving. This included one of the sheep, its pink-skinned body apparently having been partially eaten.

Doyle spoke excitedly. “Considering the extreme divergence time you requested, I am mildly surprised we were able to find a habitable world on the first try. The number of factors that could have acted upon the planet’s geology and biosphere is astronomical. For example, a new type of plant could have evolved more efficient food production that doesn’t create oxygen as a byproduct, outcompeting the flowering plants and rendering the atmosphere toxic to us. Random climatic events could have occurred, changing ocean temperatures so that the entire central United States is still submerged under a shallow sea. The possibilities are nearly endless.”

Infinity sighed loudly. “Half the animals are dead. One sheep is partially eaten. A predator large enough to—”

“Yes, yes, Infinity. That appears to be the case. I’m simply expressing my surprise at the bio-probe’s success.”

Doyle’s enthusiasm was contagious, and Desmond wasn’t keen on two more days of training with Infinity and Razor while waiting for the next bio-probe. He said, “The sheep didn’t have two bridgers there to protect them.”

“Yes, precisely,” Doyle said. “Let’s see what the techs have to tell us, shall we?”

They moved to a small conference room and sat around a glass-top table. They made mostly-awkward small talk for about ten minutes. Finally, a woman in her thirties wearing shorts and a long-sleeve denim shirt came in, took a seat at the table, and silently studied a tablet she had brought with her.

“This is Celia Pickett,” Doyle said. “She has a knack for comprehensively summarizing bio-probe results, allowing for prompt bridging decisions.”

The woman glanced up from her tablet for a split second. She wore dangly earrings and closely cropped black hair—no more than a centimeter in length. Perhaps she had bridged recently. Or maybe she was showing solidarity with the bridgers.

Everyone waited silently.

Finally, the woman looked up. “The bio-probe specimens returning alive showed no signs of extreme temperatures, elevated radiation levels, or low blood oxygen. Minimal dehydration.” She glanced at Desmond, Lenny, and Xavier. “Micro or macro parasites picked up on an excursion are not bridged back. But it is often possible to detect their recent presence on or in the body—surface scarring, telltale changes in blood chemistry, that sort of thing. The bio-probe animals showed signs of ecto-parasites, or perhaps biting insects, but probably no more than what the three of you experienced during your training exercises today.”

Lenny held up his hand like he was in a classroom. “What about stomach contents? If the animals eat while they’re there, can you see what they’ve eaten?”

She smiled and nodded, as if to say this was a good question. “Foreign matter doesn’t bridge back to our world, even if it’s inside the body, except for basic components that have already been broken down and have entered the body’s cells. Whatever bridged out, bridges back. No more, no less. Particularly if the test specimen is still alive.”

Lenny seemed to consider this. “So if one of the animals dies on the other world—what exactly happens?”

“It depends on the condition of the tissue. To put it simply, the more intact the tissue is, the more likely it will bridge back to our world. This is a result of the specific tagging process we use to prepare you for bridging.” She shot a glance at Doyle. “I can tell you more of the technicals after your official briefing.”

Xavier smirked. “You mean after we sign a non-disclosure agreement.”

She smiled but didn’t confirm it. “The biggest concern now is the mortality rate of the bio-probe animals. Of the twelve test animals, five returned dead or did not return at all. Which means not only are they dead, but their cells are no longer intact.”

Desmond leaned forward over the table. “What would cause their cells to no longer be intact after only thirty-six hours?”

“Incineration for one. But, much more likely, chemical breakdown—digestion.”

After a few seconds, Lenny said, “Daaamn….”

Celia switched off her tablet. “Unfortunately, that’s the extent of what we can learn from a bio-probe.”

“Thank you, Celia,” Doyle said. He then turned to Infinity and Razor. “Your thoughts for our clients?”

The bridgers had been silent throughout the discussion.

Infinity cleared her throat. “Five of twelve dead. I don’t like it.”

Doyle gazed at her. “And?”

“And that’s my input. The world’s predator-heavy. I don’t like it.”

Razor shrugged. “It’s not ideal. But I’ve bridged after worse than five of twelve. I could go either way—fifty-fifty.”

Doyle raised his brows at the bridgers, but apparently they had no intention of saying more. He turned to Desmond, Lenny, and Xavier at the opposite end of the table. “In situations like this, our clients make the final decision. If you accept this world, you’ll bridge at 7:00 AM tomorrow. If you decline, we’ll initiate another bio-probe.”

Desmond looked at his friends.

Lenny smiled broadly. “I’m here for the ride, Des,” he said, nodding to Infinity and Razor. “With these two bridgers, we’ll put some zippity-smackdown on this predator-heavy world. Let’s get it done.”

Xavier furrowed his brows and shook his head at Lenny’s response. “Since this is an important decision, I’ll give a more mature, measured opinion. Do I like the idea of a ‘predator-heavy’ world?” He made quotation marks in the air. “No. But I do like the idea of proceeding immediately. I was prepared to be here for as long as it takes, but, to be honest, the idea of completing this excursion and still having a few weeks of summer before the semester—well, that’s rather intoxicating. I vote we do it.”

Lenny huffed. “That’s pretty much what I just said, man.”

Desmond glanced at Infinity. She was staring at him with a face of stone. He then turned to Doyle. “I guess we’re bridging in the morning.”

3

Briefing

August 2 — 30 minutes later

Eyes half closed, Infinity forced from her mind the flood of visual scenarios and well-practiced techniques for killing things both human and nonhuman. Clearing her mind was no easy task—she would bridge in less than twelve hours. When practicing the silent meditative state known as Mokuso, it was essential to clear away images of violence. Which was why she wasn’t all that good at Mokuso.

She stared at the floor in front of her to minimize distractions. Inhaling through her nose, she visualized the air moving up through her forehead, across the crown of her skull, and down her spine, finally collecting in her lower abdomen, winding in ever-shrinking circles until it disappeared into a tiny point. She exhaled slowly and repeated the process until her mind was at peace.

Several minutes later the alarm next to her bed broke her trance. She sighed, got up from the floor, and turned it off.

Infinity considered every minute of life to be sacred. Driving back and forth from SafeTrek to an apartment elsewhere would mean wasted minutes. So she had insisted on her own permanent bunkroom in the SafeTrek building. Armando had agreed to this, although he had reminded her more than once that she might have more of a social life if she’d live off-site. Armando tended to treat her like a daughter sometimes. Considering Infinity hadn’t seen her real father since she was fourteen, she didn’t usually mind.

She stepped over to her sink, wiped her eyes with her palms, and looked in the mirror. She saw the face of a killer. The truth of this bothered her more every year. But it was the truth nevertheless. A few more years and she’d have enough money saved to quit bridging and do something normal—something that had nothing to do with fighting or killing.

“You afraid?” She asked aloud. The face in the mirror looked calm and relaxed, which wasn’t at all how she felt. “You’d better be,” she said, finally.

She ran her fingers over her scalp and its seventeen-day growth. She could still see the dark scar she’d gotten from a broken bottle when she was fifteen. Two more weeks and her hair would’ve been long enough to hide it. Only once in the last year had her hair grown out that long.

She looked at the clock and sighed. Turning back to the mirror, she said, “And you’d better be able to sleep tonight.”

She rubbed cold water on her face, dried it off, and left her room.

* * *

Infinity was the last to sit down at the briefing table. By now the tourists had likely spent the last ten minutes signing non-disclosure agreements and bitching about this clause or that clause. The forms were stupidly long and confusing. But Infinity could summarize them in one sentence: keep your damn mouth shut about everything except what you see and do between bridge-out and bridge-back.

Briefings were limited to just a few people. Armando and Celia were there to provide information, the tourists were supposed to listen and ask questions, and the two bridgers would answer questions they were allowed to answer. Infinity was always bored by the briefings—she had heard it all before. But she did like to watch the tourists’ reactions to what they learned. You could learn a lot about someone through those reactions. And the more she knew, the better she could get them to cooperate when excursions went south.

Once Infinity sat down, Armando nodded to Celia, and she didn’t waste time. Which was something Infinity always appreciated.

“This may seem like an unusual topic to begin the briefing with,” Celia said to the tourists, “but it is important to provide you with some background. Again, I’ll remind you of your non-disclosure obligations. Leaking this information will not only result in federal charges against you, but it will also automatically triple your financial obligation to SafeTrek.” She paused and waited until the tourists nodded.

“As I’m sure you know, five years ago, humans experienced a significant turning point for science, as well as theology, anthropology, and sociology.” She touched her tablet, which activated a projector, displaying on the wall a photo of the now-famous ATA—the Allen Telescope Array—in the Cascade Mountains of California.

The three tourists exchanged confused glances. They had no idea what was coming.

Celia went on. “The Allen Telescope Array detected a repeating set of non-natural radio waves transmitted simultaneously at numerous frequencies between 1,420 and 1,720 megahertz, proving beyond any doubt that at least one intelligent civilization exists besides our own. The extraterrestrials were dubbed in popular culture as the Outlanders, as the signal originated farther from the center of the galactic plane than Earth.”

The motormouth tourist—Xavier—started to say something but then stopped and waited.

“The transmitted signals had finally been decoded several months after their discovery. The general public knows that the signals included information about the aliens and their civilization, like a more robust version of the golden records we sent out of our solar system on the Voyagers 1 and 2, or the crude plaques sent onboard Pioneers 10 and 11.”

Finally the motormouth couldn’t help himself. “May I ask what this has to do with our excursion?”

Celia nodded. “There are other segments of the Outlanders’ signal the general public does not know about.”

The tourists exchanged another look, this time with a touch of holy-shit on their faces. The next few minutes would be the most amusing part of Infinity’s day.

“An international committee representing the governments of twenty-one countries decided some segments of the information were to be withheld and used judiciously. Primarily, detailed instructions for creating a bridging device.”

All three tourists sat up straight and stared, apparently too shocked to speak.

Now the briefing was getting real. Infinity watched the tourists carefully.

Celia continued. “Contrary to what you’ve heard in the media, bridging technology is far beyond human science. Before we built the bridging centers, many physicists didn’t even believe that there were infinite parallel universes. We only had a basic theoretical notion of the concept, and were hundreds of years—maybe thousands—from developing a way to transport living things between realities. To put it bluntly, we have no idea how the bridging devices work.”

Still the tourists stared silently, trying to process what they’d heard. When they finally regained the ability to speak, they displayed the same sequence of reactions Infinity had seen so many times before: denial, outrage, and then numerous questions. The motormouth Xavier was considering pulling out of the deal. But now that the final agreement forms had been signed, there would be no refund. So now he was pouting like a kid. The agreeable Lenny, on the other hand, had already decided this knowledge would only enhance the adventure. And the leader, Desmond—he was the one who’d make or break the whole excursion. Now he was silently considering things. Infinity wasn’t sure what to think of Desmond. He typically kept his mouth shut unless he had something worthwhile to say. Infinity could identify with that trait. But when Desmond did speak, his buddies listened. If things got rough on the excursion, she’d have to focus on getting Desmond in line first. She found herself wondering what he’d look like after bridging took his hair, but she quickly pushed the thought from her mind.

For the next half-hour, Celia went through the rest of the most critical information, occasionally projecting photos and graphics on the screen. The bridging device allowed you to dial back accurately to whatever divergence point you wanted, but no one understood how. For each possible divergence point, there were seemingly infinite worlds available, but one world was selected randomly by the device. Once you initially accessed a specific world, the window to that particular universe remained available for only about 108 hours, after which the connection was severed and you could never find that world again. No one knew why bridging stripped away hair, clothing, dead skin cells, and other nonliving matter. Nor did anyone know where these things disappeared to. Bridging back was made possible by a scanning and tagging procedure performed before bridging out. Each excursion lasted slightly over thirty-six hours. This was due to the half-life of the tagging radioisotope, but no one knew why that particular isotope was the only one that worked.

Finally, Celia tapped her tablet, and the projector went dark. She was finished.

Armando Doyle groaned softly as he stood up. “And that, gentlemen, is why you signed a non-disclosure agreement. If it were up to me, I’d make this information available to everyone. But the powers that be, in their infinite wisdom, have decided that the general public does not need to know that bridging technology came from the Outlanders. I suppose I can see their point. Folks would argue that any information from a distant civilization should be freely available to all citizens of Earth. And it’s conceivable they would win that argument in court.” He raised his hands like a preacher. “But can you imagine if everyone with the resources had the ability to create bridging devices?”

“Bridging would be less expensive,” Xavier said.

Armando smiled. “Perhaps. But there must be order. Would you want bridging centers catering to people who desire to bridge to parallel worlds so that they could commit murder or rape? Or to people who fantasize about wiping out an entire city? Or worse? Oh yes, there are people who have requested such excursions from us. But we strive to keep a measure of order.”

He started pacing around the table. “And the truth of the matter is that bridging is dangerous. That’s why we have highly-qualified bridgers like Infinity and Razor. As the three of you obviously know, bridging to alternate worlds could be one of the richest sources of scientific data imaginable. Scientists, not to mention experts in a thousand other fields, should be lining up at our doors, booking their data-collecting excursions years in advance. But they’re not. Do you know why?”

Desmond spoke up. “Because none of that data can be brought back. It’s limited to what researchers can fit into their own minds and recall when they return.”

“Precisely,” Armando said. “And beyond that—”

“And that’s why I’m here,” Desmond said, cutting him off. “I have an advantage over most other researchers.”

Armando raised his brows.

“I have an elevated capacity to remember certain things,” Desmond said. “Some people call it a photographic memory, but that’s an oversimplification.”

Infinity leaned forward in her chair. There might be more to this Desmond than she had thought.

“Given the right kind of observations,” he said, “I can recall thousands of chunks of information. You said you will be providing us with recording devices as soon as we return, and I plan to do a serious info-dump. All of which I can then analyze later for my dissertation. That’s why I requested that no other researchers be present at the post-bridge interview—intellectual property and all that.”

“That is quite fascinating,” Armando said. “If only there were more minds like yours. I’m afraid bridging by researchers has declined in the four years since our facility opened. We have compensated for this by offering excursions as a form of recreation. But the, um, physical hardships of the bridging process are a deterrent to all but the most determined adventure-seekers, some of whom we must refuse due to their interest in non-allowable activities. We’ve been forced to increase our prices significantly to remain viable.”

“I have a question,” the motormouth said. “Why do you think the Outlanders included instructions for constructing bridging devices in their radio signals?”

Armando put a finger to his chin like he was thinking about this for the first time. But Infinity knew he had been puzzling over it for years.

“Perhaps it was their greatest achievement, and they were simply proud,” he said. “I like to think it was because there is something much more useful about bridging, something that was so intuitive to them that they didn’t bother to mention it. Perhaps it’s something we will eventually discover on our own.”

Infinity was getting bored and decided it was time to speak up. “Are we on for the morning or off? I’ve got prepping to do.”

“As do I,” Razor added.

Desmond looked at his two buddies.

Lenny nodded, as Infinity had expected.

Motormouth said, “We’re using alien technology no one understands to jump to a predator-heavy world. For the freakin’ life of me, you guys, I can’t imagine what could go wrong.”

Desmond turned to Infinity and nodded. “It’s on.”

Razor stood up. “Drink at least a quart of water before you turn in. At least another quart in the morning, no later than 6:00 AM. Once the water is in your cells and bloodstream, it’s yours. Bridging won’t take it from you. It’s possible we won’t drink water for the entire thirty-six hours. If you’re still hungry, eat now. By morning, most of the food will be absorbed. Don’t bother eating breakfast. If bridging didn’t take it from you, you’d probably purge it.”

To Infinity’s surprise, he took the time to shake each tourist’s hand. This was her first time partnering with Razor on an excursion, so she wasn’t familiar with his habits. As he shook their hands, he looked each of them in the eye and said, “Godspeed, tourist. The bridgers have your back.” He then left the room, no doubt headed for his own private pre-bridge rituals.

Infinity was suddenly aware that she had never spoken much to tourists during briefings. No reason to change now. She simply nodded at them and walked out.

* * *

Infinity stared at the most beautiful night sky she’d ever seen. Streaks of purple and green faded and brightened, wavering about like glowing shocks of hair blowing in the breeze. She blinked away a drop of sweat that had run into her eye. Every one of her muscles strained to keep her body rigid. Her arms were between her legs, holding her body elevated above the picnic table. Her legs extended horizontally in the air in front of her. It was called the firefly pose, and it was good for maintaining core strength. But it was also an effective tool for clearing the mind, although the amazing sky before her was distracting.

Her muscles were starting to burn. She took a deep breath and stared at the wavering lights. And then she heard footsteps approaching on the grass, breaking her focus. She relented and lowered herself to the tabletop. She hadn’t expected company this late, so she had removed her clothes. After years of bridging, she was more relaxed without them.

“That’s impressive.” It was the tourist, Desmond. “I’m sorry if I interrupted.”

“You did,” she said.

“Well, I’m sorry. Did you know it’s midnight? Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

He sat on the tabletop next to her and put his feet on the bench. “I couldn’t sleep either. Too nervous, I guess.”

She ignored him and started winding down her workout with some stretches.

He looked up to the northern sky. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” He paused. “But it scares the crap out of me.”

She looked at him, surprised. “Why’s that?”

“This is the first time I’ve been to Missouri, but I’m pretty sure auroras are rare here, if not unheard of.”

She looked at the shimmering colors. “Until now.”

“Auroras happen when solar wind interacts with the Earth’s magnetosphere. In order for them to start happening in places this far from the north polar region, something would have to disrupt the planet’s magnetic field. It’s like the world is just falling apart.”

Infinity didn’t often waste time thinking about weather, or earthquakes, or anything else in the news for that matter. She had a job she was good at, and it paid well. The world’s concerns were not hers.

She finished the extension stretches of her right leg and switched to the left. “Well, like you said, it’s beautiful.”

He let out a half-hearted laugh, and then she sensed that he was staring at her. It pissed her off, but it was probably a good thing that he was. On the job, when clothes weren’t an option, there was no place for gawking. But in a situation like this, there was something dishonest about a guy who pretended not to notice when she was naked. “Watch your gaze, tourist.”

He turned away. “Sorry. I was just looking at your tattoo. It’s nice. I recognize the bird, a painted bunting. I just… well, you don’t strike me as a bird-tattoo kind of person. A scorpion or rattlesnake, maybe.”

She turned and glared at him.

“Well,” he said, “I do like it, just so you know. It must be fresh. In the daylight earlier I saw redness around it.”

She paused her stretching and put one hand to the tattoo on her chest. “It’s fresh and it’s not. This is the fourth time it’s been re-inked. I lose some of the ink each time I bridge.” Desmond didn’t have any tattoos that Infinity had seen, so that was one thing he wouldn’t have to worry about.

“I imagine that must get expensive.”

Infinity didn’t have much else to spend her money on. If she survived bridging for another year or two, she planned to quit and do something normal. But this was none of the tourist’s business, so she didn’t answer.

He sighed and stepped down from the picnic table. Maybe he was finally getting the message that she was busy.

“Obviously I’ve never bridged before,” he said. “Does the process hurt?”

“It can.”

“I’ve been excited about it for weeks. But I haven’t let myself be afraid yet. Should I?”

She went back to stretching, working on her left arm. “Not tonight. You need sleep. Remember, you’ll have two bridgers with you.”

He stood there gazing at her, the green and red glow from the sky reflecting off his face, making it hard not to stare back at him. Finally, he turned and headed back the way he’d come.

“I hope you sleep well, Infinity,” he said over his shoulder.

She released her arm and watched him walk away. He paused for a moment to gaze at the colors in the sky. Then he shook his head and entered the SafeTrek compound.

She started on her right arm. “Yeah, you too,” she said softly.

4

Countdown

August 3

Desmond had been awake for some time when his alarm went off at 5:50 AM, ten minutes before one of the techs was supposed to escort him to the bridging chamber. He hadn't planned on needing more than ten minutes to get ready.  There was no point in showering—supposedly the dirt on his skin would be removed during the bridge. And no point shaving—he’d lose all his hair too.

No sooner had he turned the alarm off, than he heard a gentle knocking on the door. The tech was early. Desmond sighed and got up from the bed, still wearing the clothes he'd worn the day before. “One second,” he said. He looked in the mirror and tightened the disheveled band on his ponytail. Might as well have it looking halfway neat one more time before losing it altogether. He stepped to the door and opened it.

The tech was there, but so were Lenny and Xavier, as well as Armando Doyle’s assistant, Celia Pickett.

Lenny tilted his head toward Celia. “She wants to tell us all something before we head for Dimension X.”

Desmond moved aside, and they all entered his room. The tech, a thin guy in his forties maybe and wearing cotton scrubs, stood to the side with his arms crossed. Lenny and Xavier looked like they hadn't gotten any more sleep than Desmond had. They each held a half-finished one-liter water bottle, which reminded Desmond that he was supposed to hydrate. He grabbed his bottle from beside his bed.

As usual, Celia got right to the point. “Mr. Doyle asked me to deliver some breaking news he thought you three would find interesting.” She hesitated briefly like she wanted to make sure they were listening. “As I'm sure you know, since the discovery of the Outlander’s radio signal five years ago, scientists’ efforts to survey more segments of the sky have multiplied. Well, last night SETI announced that a second source of non-natural radio signals has been discovered.”

Desmond was suddenly alert.

Xavier spoke first. “A second source? You mean from the Outlanders?”

Celia shook her head. “Not from the Outlanders. From a source almost forty-two degrees distant from the Outlanders.”

“Hot damn.” Lenny said.

“Another civilization, then?” Xavier asked.

“Possibly, but also possibly not. The second signal uses the same formatting protocols used by the Outlanders. Either the Outlanders have colonized another world at a staggering distance from the source of the first signal, or another civilization has used the same signal formatting.”

“Perhaps another civilization also discovered the first signal and decided to rebroadcast it.” Desmond said.

She nodded. “That’s possible as well, but preliminary checks indicate the signals contain different information. At least this time they can decode the signal in hours, rather than months.”

Xavier glanced at his watch. “And we’re bridging in less than an hour.  I guess we’ll have to wait until we get back tomorrow night to find out what it says.” He blew out a long breath and shook his head.

Lenny slapped Xavier and Desmond on their backs. “Never been a better time to be alive, brothers. Biggest mind-screwing period in human history.”

Celia turned toward the door. “We almost decided to forego burdening you with such momentous news just before your excursion. But Mr. Doyle is quite excited about it. He wanted you to know. He is hopeful that the new signal will provide additional information on bridging technology.” She half-smiled, the first time Desmond had seen anything but seriousness on her face. “I think he would like to believe that this second civilization received the first signal before we did, and they have discovered the missing hows and whys and are attempting to share the knowledge with others.” She rolled her eyes, smiling, giving Desmond the impression she had playfully teased Doyle about this. “I'll see you in a few minutes.” She left the room.

The tech placed a black rectangular case on the desk next to Desmond’s bed and popped it open, revealing three filled syringes and three small bottles. “Gentlemen, if you’re ready, we must administer the tagging radioisotope as close to 6:00 AM as possible. And then I'll take you to the bridging chamber.” He held up one of the syringes. “Who’s first?”

Desmond stepped forward.

As the tech swabbed alcohol on Desmond’s arm, he explained, “This is a special cocktail of carriers and the radioisotope, technetium-99m. We administer it both orally and by injection an hour before bridging to give it ample time to distribute itself throughout your body. Due to a unique prepping process, the radioisotope will not begin to decay until the bridging device scans your body, which happens at almost the exact instant of bridging.” He jabbed the needle in without warning and quickly emptied the syringe. “Technetium-99m has a half-life of slightly more than six hours. When it decays to the exact point where there is 1.56% remaining, the bridging device pulls you back to our world. That gives you precisely thirty-six hours and 3.6 seconds to enjoy your excursion.” He smiled broadly and handed Desmond one of the small bottles. “Please drink this.”

Lenny stepped forward for his dose. “What if we’re five miles away from where we entered the other world?”

“Doesn't seem to matter. It'll pull you back from wherever you are.”

Lenny grunted as the needle entered his arm. “Let me guess, you have no idea how it does that.”

The guy smiled again. “Perhaps we’ll get all the answers soon.” He then laughed and shook his head. Apparently he was as skeptical as Celia regarding Doyle’s theory.

A few minutes later the radioisotope dosing was complete, and the tech led them to the bridging chamber. They passed through an airlock that had both hatches hanging open, and then they walked through a well-equipped lab area.

“This is where you’ll spend three enjoyable days when you return, going through patho- and chemo-cleansing.” The tech turned and gave them a wry smile. “It's also where we evaluate bio-probe animals and treat client and bridger injuries.”

Xavier said, “Should I ask how often people return with injuries, or do I even want to know?”

The tech turned and glanced at them. “Some excursions are worse than others. There’s a direct correlation between frequency of injuries and how far back you choose your point of divergence.”

“That’s terrific,” Xavier said.

“That's what makes this whole zip-banging excursion exciting,” Lenny said. “Man-up, Xavier.”

They passed through a second airlock—also with open hatches—into the bridging chamber itself. Celia and four other techs were already in the chamber, but the bridgers weren't there yet. Desmond’s eyes were drawn to the plastic-covered, cushioned floor. The techs had done a good job of cleaning the stains from the bio-probe animals returning dead or injured the previous evening, but the center area of the floor was permanently stained dark, probably from countless returning bio-probes—maybe even people.

While the techs took readings of blood pressure, body temperature, and various other parameters, Desmond, Lenny, and Xavier made small talk until Infinity and Razor entered the chamber at 6:45. Razor shook their hands again and said things like, “You're about to see things no human has seen,” and “Ready for the ultimate adventure?” Infinity, on the other hand, stood against a wall of the chamber stretching her arms and legs with her eyes closed. Desmond wondered if that was part of her ritual.

Celia had her tablet, and she looked at it before speaking. “Mr. Doyle couldn’t be here to see you off. He’s flying to California to forcefully insert himself into the efforts to decode the new extraterrestrial signals. So I'll be providing your last-minute instructions. Infinity and Razor, please clarify anything I may miss.” She looked at her tablet again. “Since you haven’t bridged before, it is likely the process will be disorienting. It’s possible you’ll feel some nausea immediately following the bridge.”

“What she means is you’re gonna throw up,” Razor said. “Nine out of ten tourists do. Don’t let it dampen your spirits or break your focus.”

Celia went on. “We have found that when bridging to worlds with more distant divergence points, you may arrive there above the ground, similar to what you saw when the bio-probe animals returned. We assume this is some kind of built-in safety feature of the bridging device, to compensate for increased uncertainty of the other world’s terrain.”

“So just before we bridge,” Razor added, “make sure you’re standing upright with your feet firmly under you but with your knees slightly bent. The idea is to land on your feet and absorb the shock of the fall.”

Celia said, “Your bridgers are experts at this. Keep in mind that the first few minutes are crucial. They’ll follow a standard protocol in those first few minutes in order to minimize any possible risks to the three of you.”

Razor clarified. “What she’s saying is that you need to follow our orders, both promptly and without question. Once we’ve determined there’s no immediate danger, you can begin to explore. But not until then. Agreed?”

Desmond, Lenny, and Xavier all nodded.

“Thank you, Razor,” Celia said. She then turned to the tourists. “That’s it. We like to keep our pre-bridging instructions simple. Your bridgers will provide additional information on an as-needed basis.” She looked at one of the techs. “Any physiological issues?”

He shook his head. “Everything is within normal ranges.”

She thanked him, and then he and the other techs left the chamber.

Celia pointed to five empty, plastic, zippered bags that had been left on the floor. “Your clothing.”

Infinity and Razor had come to the chamber barefoot, but they immediately began pulling off their shorts and t-shirts.

Celia seemed to recognize that Desmond, Lenny, and Xavier were hesitant, and she turned her back to them. “Just place the bags beside me when you’re done.”

Desmond and Lenny began removing their clothes, but Xavier removed only his watch. He placed it into his bag and put it next to Celia’s feet.

“You do know the clothes aren’t going with you,” Infinity said.

“I don’t mind losing them,” he replied, “for a few more minutes of dignity.”

Razor put a hand on Xavier’s shoulder. “Here’s the real deal. You can lose your clothes if you want to, but bridging with clothes on causes a burning sensation on your skin as the clothes are stripped away. No idea why.”

Xavier looked at him and then glanced at Celia. He sighed, removed his clothes, and added them to his bag.

Celia gathered up the five bags and stepped to the hatch. She turned around and gazed at Xavier for several seconds with a slightly mischievous smile. Finally, she said. “Good luck. I can scarcely imagine the wondrous things you’ll see. Thirty-six hours can pass quickly. Enjoy every minute of it.” She stepped through the hatch and closed it behind her.

Razor actually chuckled out loud, and Desmond realized he and Celia were having fun at Xavier’s expense.

“Very funny,” Xavier said. “Do you guys do that to everyone, or only when your boss is out of town?”

This made Razor laugh even harder.

Desmond looked at Infinity. She shook her head without cracking a smile.

“Stand in the middle of the room,” she said. “Two feet of space between everyone.”

They all gathered there as instructed. Desmond realized his heart was pounding. He tried breathing slowly, but it didn’t help.

Celia’s voice came through a speaker somewhere. “Two minutes.”

Desmond turned to the largest of the plexiglass windows. Celia and two of the techs were seated on the other side, watching them.

“Just relax,” Razor said in a calm voice. “It helps to think about something you like. For me, it’s skydiving.”

Really, Desmond thought, that’s what calms him down? He tried to focus on one of his favorite hiking trails near his home in Kentucky.

“One minute,” Celia announced.

Infinity tapped Desmond’s shoulder. “Move your feet apart. Now bend your knees. Lenny, get those knees bent, like you’re about to land after jumping.”

“Hold your arms out at an angle,” Razor said. “It helps your balance, and it facilitates the body scan.”

“Thirty seconds.”

“Remember,” Infinity said, “we’re here to protect and assist. The first minutes are critical. Do what we say, when we say it.”

Several more seconds passed.

“Here we go, baby!” Lenny said.

“Ten seconds.”

Desmond thought of fresh forest air and a breeze whispering through the trees.

“Five, four, three, two, one.”

5

Bridge

August 3 — 7:00 AM

For just an instant, Desmond felt wet and prickly, like he’d been wrapped in a slimy cactus. And then he was falling. He hit the ground hard. His legs buckled and one of his knees slammed into his face. His nose exploded with pain. He rolled on the ground, clutching his face.

Someone shouted, “Aw goddammit, my leg!”

“Severe placement error! Assess and give me a plan, Razor. I’ll check injuries.”

Razor responded immediately. “Open rocky hillside. Forest down-slope at two hundred yards. No other cover near.”

Someone pulled Desmond’s hands from his face. Infinity stared down at him. “Anything broken besides your nose, tourist? Try to stand up.” She turned and was gone.

Desmond looked at his hands, covered in blood.

“No large animals visible,” Razor said. “Flocks of birds in the distance. Best option: move to the forest now.”

“Be careful!” Xavier’s voice was desperate. “Oh Jesus, look at it.”

“Fractured tibia,” Infinity said. “Possibly more.”

Desmond turned to look. Infinity was squatting beside Xavier, but she quickly got up and moved to Lenny.

“I’m okay,” he said. He got to his knees and stood up.

She turned back to Desmond. “I said can you get up? Move!”

He grunted and sat up. Blood flowed freely from his face onto his legs and groin. Suddenly, Razor’s outstretched hand was in his face. Desmond grabbed it, and the bridger pulled him up.

“I think my legs are okay,” he said.

“Good,” Infinity said. “We’re moving to the forest. Don’t get ahead of us or fall behind. We all stay in a tight group.” She and Razor pulled Xavier up onto one foot.

Xavier cried out. His broken foot swung loosely from a point halfway up the calf. The sight made Desmond’s chest tighten. He forced himself to look away. He realized suddenly that this would change everything about the excursion.

“I know it hurts,” Razor said as he and Infinity got on each side and put Xavier’s arms over their shoulders. “But we’re taking you down the slope. I want you to muster everything you’ve got to stop yourself from yelling. We need to be discreet.”

Xavier made an almost inhuman groan, possibly trying to convey that he would try.

“You guys,” Lenny said, gazing up the slope behind them. “I know you may be preoccupied right now, but there’s a wicked-awesome example of the local wildlife right up there.”

Desmond turned and followed his gaze. The creature was silhouetted against the blue sky, so he couldn’t see color or fine details. But it was bird-like, standing on two legs. It appeared to be as tall as an ostrich, but with a thicker neck and legs, and a much larger head. A thin, wispy fringe outlined its body against the sky—feathers or perhaps fur.

The creature crouched lower, as if it had suddenly realized it’d been spotted. It leaned forward and began walking, skirting to the side of the humans. Its movements were smooth and restrained, indicating it could move much faster if it wanted to. As it moved down the slope, coming closer, Desmond saw that it was brown, about the color of a deer or coyote.

“That’s a predator,” Infinity said, her voice lower than it had been moments before. “Let’s move. Stay tight—try to look like one large animal.”

She and Razor started down the hill, Xavier stifling pained grunts.

Desmond couldn’t take his eyes off the creature—it was unlike anything he’d ever seen. Another movement caught his eye. A second creature of the same type coming over the hilltop. And then another to the side of that one. Seconds later, two more appeared. As they appeared, each one, mimicking the first, stared for a moment and then crouched and began skirting the humans. Two of them moved toward the first one, but the remaining two went in the other direction.

Desmond’s neck tingled, although it no longer had hair that could stand up. He rushed to join the others. “There are at least five of them now, and it looks to me like they’re stalking us.”

Infinity and Razor looked over their shoulders and then at each other.

“Okay,” Infinity said. “Desmond and Lenny, watch them as we move. Tell us if their behavior changes in any way. When we get to the trees, first grab anything you can wield as a weapon. Long spears are better, remember, but there’s no time to grind tips. Second, climb a tree. The higher the better. Take your weapons up with you.”

The bird-like creatures were now alongside them, about fifty yards out on each side. The animals were definitely stalking them. The forest was still a hundred yards away.

Razor pointed at the ground with his free hand. “Lenny, give me that rock.”

Without slowing down, Lenny leaned over, snagged it, and handed it to Razor.

“Now grab one for yourself. Desmond, do the same. If they get close, throw. Pick up another rock as soon as you throw.”

Infinity said, “If they keep coming, make a lot of noise and hold your hands up to look bigger. Give me one of those rocks.”

Desmond spotted two small enough to pick up, grabbed them one after the other, stumbling a bit after the second, and put one into her free hand. Xavier was now grunting and moaning uncontrollably. Lenny looked at Desmond with wide eyes and gestured toward the bird creatures, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. The predators were still alongside them but hadn’t come within throwing distance. The creatures were moving low to the ground, and every few seconds they turned their heads and looked directly at the five humans.

Fifty yards to the forest. Desmond realized the trees weren’t like any he’d ever seen. They had green structures at the branch tips, but they looked nothing like leaves. Instead, they were round, semi-translucent orbs about the size of a baseball. The twigs they were attached to were only a few inches long. And those were attached to thicker branches no more than two feet long. These in turn were attached to two-foot branches connecting to the main trunk, which resembled a green, upside-down carrot. These branches would be totally useless as spears.

When they finally arrived at the forest edge, the bird creatures were still maintaining their distance. The forest was bordered by smaller, brushy plants, all of them with green orbs for leaves. They pushed their way through the brush and into the forest.

The sunlight beneath the trees had a strange, green hue from passing through the bubble leaves. Desmond looked to one side to see what the creatures would do. They moved silently and gracefully among the trees, now coming directly toward the humans. He looked in the other direction—the others were doing the same, as if they’d been waiting for the humans to enter the forest.

Infinity was watching the predators, too. “Pick a tree and climb, now!”

Desmond didn’t need to be told twice. Fortunately, the trees were easy to climb, with thick branches growing near the ground. The green trunk was surprisingly soft to the touch, but this didn’t impede their climbing. He and Lenny were ten feet up before Desmond turned to look down.

Infinity and Razor had taken Xavier to the base of another tree, but it was too late to help him up. The creatures were less than ten yards away and steadily creeping closer.

Infinity and Razor stood shoulder to shoulder with their backs to him, each of them armed only with a jagged rock. “Climb with your arms and good leg,” Infinity instructed Xavier.

Xavier grunted and sobbed, trying to pull himself up.

One of the creatures broke away from the others and darted over to Desmond and Lenny’s tree. It stood beneath them, looking up with large, round eyes and circular pupils. Its head was the size and general shape of a large dog’s but with a thick beak almost ten inches long instead of a muzzle. And Desmond now noticed that the creatures had forelimbs. They were small, like those of a velociraptor, with long, clawed fingers.

Lenny threw his rock, striking the creature’s neck and sending it scampering back.

Four of the creatures were still circling Xavier and the bridgers. They crept confidently, like they might attack any second. “Higher!” Infinity shouted at Xavier, although he was obviously doing the best he could.

“Shock and awe, on my lead,” Infinity said.

“Damn right,” Razor replied. “You take the head, I got the feet.”

Were they really going to try to fight the creatures with their bare hands?

“Climb, Xavier!” Desmond shouted.

The creatures stopped circling and crouched, preparing to lunge at the two naked, seemingly helpless humans.

Infinity screamed savagely and thrust her arms out, hurling her rock at the nearest creature’s face. In a blur of motion she kicked the thing in the side of its head as it was trying to avoid the rock. Then she was all over it, knocking it to the ground, her legs encircling its chest until her feet locked together. She clamped her arms around its head, trying to hold its beak shut, and attacked one of its eyes with her teeth.

Razor circled to the back of the animal, threw himself over the body, and grabbed the hind legs. He wrestled with the flailing limbs, keeping the claws away from Infinity.

The other creatures seemed startled by this vicious, coordinated attack, and they nearly stumbled over their own feet trying to back off. They stopped at ten yards out and watched, ready to run if necessary. The restrained creature began screeching, and the others backed off even more.

This was a crucial moment, and Desmond saw a chance to help. Still holding his own rock, he descended to the ground. “I’ll kill you!” he screamed, and he rushed at the nearest creature and threw the rock.

This was apparently the tipping point, because two of them turned and ran back out of the forest.

“Get back up in the tree, tourist!” Infinity ordered, her strained voice barely audible above the shrieks of the creature beneath her.

The two remaining predators began creeping toward Desmond, their bodies held low to the ground.

He rushed back to the tree and climbed until he was next to Lenny again.

The predators came to the tree’s base and looked up.

“Break its damn neck,” Razor snarled.

With her legs still locked around its body, Infinity pulled back harder on the creature’s head. “I’m trying!”

Suddenly the two creatures below Desmond and Lenny began climbing. They gripped the branches with their beaks and hind feet, quickly maneuvering themselves upward like parrots.

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” Lenny said.

A rush of panic overtook Desmond. The creatures had evolved to climbing these trees. No wonder they had been in no rush to attack earlier.

“Climb, you guys!” Xavier called out from his own tree.

They climbed, but the predators didn’t stop. At twenty yards up, Desmond and Lenny ran out of tree. Seconds later the two creatures were within reach. Rather than rapidly snapping at Desmond and Lenny’s feet, the beaked creatures carefully and deliberately opened their jaws and reached upward, following the movement of the humans’ feet with their round eyes.

“Jesus, this can’t be real,” Lenny said as he kicked at the gaping beaks with his bare foot.

Desmond kicked too, knocking one of the beaks to the side but not deterring the creature’s efforts.

Suddenly one of the creatures caught Lenny’s foot. It then began backing down the tree. Lenny cried out as he started sliding down with it. Desmond grabbed his arm and desperately held on.

Lenny’s terror-filled eyes caught Desmond’s. “Don’t let go, Des!”

The other creature latched onto Lenny’s leg just below the knee. The weight of both predators tore Lenny from Desmond’s grip. They dragged him down, his arms and head violently striking branches all the way to the ground. The two creatures immediately began dragging away his now-limp body.

“Lenny!” Desmond began climbing down. From the corner of his vision he saw Infinity and Razor get up and rush to Lenny’s aide. The creature they’d been holding kept kicking, but it didn’t get up.

Desmond jumped past the last few branches. One of Lenny’s attackers was running away. The other was in a life-and-death struggle with the two bridgers. Infinity had a solid grip on its head, but Razor was struggling to contain its thrashing feet. Razor was red with blood, but there was no telling if it was his or the creature’s.

“I’m letting go,” Infinity cried. “Get back!”

Razor scrambled back, and Infinity released the head and rolled away. The creature got to its feet and took off for the open hillside.

Razor collapsed onto his butt, holding his blood-soaked abdomen.

Infinity was already at Lenny’s side. Desmond rushed over to them. He stared down in horror at the condition of Lenny’s leg. It was completely shredded, much worse than Xavier’s fracture. His foot hardly resembled a foot at all. The creatures’ beaks must have been unimaginably powerful to do such damage.

Infinity slapped Lenny’s face. “Wake up, tourist. I need you to focus.”

Lenny moaned, barely conscious.

Infinity swiveled her head to look at Razor, who was still sitting, clutching his belly. Then she glanced up at Xavier, still in his tree. She stood up and faced Desmond. “Listen to me, tourist. Priorities have changed. Forget whatever purpose you came here for. We have a new purpose—survival. We’re here until 7:00 PM tomorrow night. At that point we can bridge back alive or as heaps of half-digested goo. I prefer alive. All of us. Understood?”

Desmond was shaking and didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded.

“We have severe injuries, but right now priority one is defense. We have to make safety our number one priority.”

He wiped the blood from his throbbing nose and flicked it to the ground. “Okay, what can I do?”

“We need concealment. And weapons.”

6

Shelter

Infinity’s strength was starting to fade. The tourist, Lenny, was fading in and out of consciousness, so she had resorted to a fireman’s carry. She was slick with sweat, and so was the tourist, which made it even harder to hold on to his naked body. They had trekked perhaps a half-mile without seeing anything that would provide a place to hide or any debris that could be fashioned into weapons. And the forest of bubble-trees was only getting thicker. At least two of the predators were still following them, hanging back a hundred yards, perhaps hoping for them to leave behind one of the wounded.

Ahead and to the left she saw a brighter area, possibly a clearing. Any change in the terrain was worth checking out, so she veered left. Razor and the other tourists were lagging behind, so she paused. It was critical for everyone to stay together.

Razor and Desmond supported Xavier, at this point just dragging him along. Xavier was conscious but was exhausted from hopping on one foot. Razor’s face showed no signs of pain, but his labored grunts and staggering stride told a different story. He was in bad shape. If the predator’s claws had penetrated an inch deeper, they would have spilled his guts. As it was, he was losing blood fast.

“Keep going,” Razor grunted as the three of them caught up.

Lenny moaned as Infinity hefted his body higher on her shoulders for the hundredth time. They all trudged on.

Soon they emerged into the clearing. It seemed to have been created when several large trees had fallen, knocking over additional smaller trees. The trees had fallen into two main piles. Their fleshy green parts had rotted away, revealing woody structural trunks, like skeletons. Chest-high green stalks were growing nearby in several clusters, and they looked rigid. Possibly rigid enough to be useful.

“I’m putting you down,” Infinity said as she took a knee and rolled Lenny off to one side.

Lenny moaned again, still barely conscious.

Infinity stood up and faced the others. “We’re stopping here. It’s the best place for shelter we’ve seen.” She pointed to the larger of the two piles of tree skeletons. “That’s our starting point. I think we can all fit beneath it. We’ll use the trees from the other pile to reinforce it. Razor, can you work?”

He nodded. “Damn right.”

“You and Desmond get the wounded inside there. Then start reinforcing the structure. I’ll go search for something we can use to make weapons.”

She scanned the forest, pausing her gaze in the direction they’d just come. She had seen movement—brown shapes slinking smoothly among the trees. But she couldn’t tell how many. She scanned the ground. Rocks were plentiful but mostly buried, probably difficult to remove. She shoved one with her bare foot, confirming this. She shoved another. The second one moved, so she worked it free with her hands and tossed it near the jumble of tree trunks. She gathered three more and placed them beside the first.

Razor and Desmond had already moved Lenny’s limp body into the interior of the pile of logs and branches, and now they were helping Xavier crawl through the jumbled branches. He whimpered and huffed but didn’t cry out. He was proving to be tougher than he looked. Assuming Lenny didn’t have a severe concussion or other damage they couldn’t see, and assuming they weren’t killed by predators in the next thirty-four hours, the two injured tourists would survive until bridge-back. It was surprising what the body could endure for a day and a half, especially if antibiotics, medical equipment, and good surgeons were available upon returning.

Infinity moved to the center of the clearing to inspect the stalks growing there. The first thing she noticed was that swarms of insects were buzzing around the three or four greenish balls at the top of each stalk. Like the weird leaves on the trees, each of the balls was bigger than her fist, and she could see right through them. She squeezed one between her fingers until it burst. The air around it immediately smelled sweet, and dozens of insects swooped in from the other stalks, hovering there as if sucking in the aroma. Interesting, but not useful.

She gripped one of the stalks and wrenched it from the ground. It had a fleshy surface like the larger trees, but there had to be something hard inside for the stalks to stand erect. She took the stalk to the rocks she’d dug up. It didn’t take long to grind the end of it down between two of them. She had been right—the center was dense, and it held a good point.

She smiled to herself for the first time since bridging to this world.

* * *

Infinity found what she had been looking for, a low area with a small stream. Luckily it was within eyesight of Razor and the tourists.

Unfortunately, the stalking predators were also within eyesight. The damn things had gradually moved closer to the crude shelter. And now more had arrived. She had counted at least eight, but she couldn’t be sure because they kept moving, weaving back and forth between the trees in a way that made her nerves raw. If this behavior was a strategy to drive their prey to panic, then it was effective. The tourist Xavier had become fixated on it. Razor had finally put Xavier to work grinding points on the plant stalks, which seemed to be shutting him up.

Infinity didn’t want the stream for its water. She and the others would drink only if necessary. Hornet had told her once about a tourist getting violently sick within minutes of drinking water on a world with a divergence far more recent than this one. Different plants and animals meant different soil. Different soil meant different groundwater. No, what she needed was mud.

She stepped into the water, and her bare foot sank several inches into the streambed. Perfect. She scanned the area to make sure the predators weren’t approaching, and then she scooped up mud and began smearing it over her skin, quickly covering every inch of her body. It immediately soothed the insect bites she’d sustained. Like the water, the insects here could be different. So different, in fact, that their bites could be highly toxic. A layer of mud on the skin would keep most of them from biting. She gathered as much as she could carry and went back to the others.

Razor and Desmond had done a decent job of carrying logs from the smaller pile and using them to reinforce the shelter. With the supporting logs wedged into place, there were only a few holes, which were big enough for a human to fit through but too small for the predators that were stalking them. The shelter’s biggest weakness was the top. They didn’t have enough logs to close it off completely.

Lenny was now out of his semiconscious stupor and was sitting up with the others within the shelter. “That’s a good look for you, Infinity,” he said as she approached. This idiotic comment was a good sign that he hadn’t suffered a serious head injury.

Ignoring him, she leaned into one of the shelter’s openings and dumped her load of mud at their feet. “Spread this on yourselves. Leave nothing exposed, not even your open wounds.”

Xavier looked up at her, his face pale from blood loss or shock. “Are you crazy? I can’t put mud on this.” He nodded down at his fractured leg, which was tinted deep shades of black and blue.

“Yes you can. You’ll be patho-cleansed when we bridge back. The mud will hide your scent, and it’s decent camouflage. Plus, it’ll stop the biting insects. If that’s not reason enough, think of it as putting on clothing.” She turned to go get another armload. But then she froze.

Their situation had reached whatever tipping point the predators had been waiting for. They were coming—and fast. Infinity crawled through an opening to the interior of the shelter and jammed two short branches in place to close it off.

“Good God,” Lenny said. “It’s a killer bird convention.”

Infinity peeked through the maze of limbs. There were now at least fifteen predators—no wonder they’d decided to attack. She grabbed the sharpened stalks and handed them out to the others. “Position yourself so you can use both hands. Thrust hard—into the eyes or mouth. Push like you’re trying to break through the back of the skull. If they try to claw you through the openings, grab their feet and pull. Then I’ll—”

The predators suddenly jumped onto the pile of dead trees, shaking the entire shelter. The tourists began shouting and jabbing wildly.

The creatures covered the shelter, scrabbling over each other and tearing at the logs with their beaks, tossing aside the smaller sticks and ripping pieces off the larger branches.

Infinity thrust her weapon into an open beak, feeling a satisfying impact with soft tissue and then bone. The creature screeched and retreated but came right back.

A long leg came in through one of the gaps, its claws nearly impaling Infinity’s face. Desmond shot his hand out and grabbed one of its toes. He quickly pulled back on it, bracing his feet against the logs.

“I’ve got it!” He cried.

Infinity rammed her weapon into the predator’s abdomen with all her strength. It went deep. She tried yanking it out, but the creature twisted and squirmed, pulling its leg from Desmond’s grip and breaking the sharpened stalk. The predator fell back, writhing on the ground.

“Hit the abdomen, between the legs!” Infinity shouted.

At that moment a predator’s head and neck came through a gap above Xavier, beak open and darting straight for his head. Razor flipped his stalk around and jabbed it sideways with one hand, piercing the creature’s eye. Razor pushed harder and the stalk made a sickening crunch as it broke through the back of the eye socket, and the creature went limp. Razor pulled the stalk out and the head hung loosely above Xavier’s.

“And hit the eyes!” Infinity cried as she stabbed again and again.

Another head came through and was stabbed by three sharpened stalks at once.

But the creatures kept coming. With a series of loud cracks, another hole appeared above Infinity, and the entire ceiling sagged under the creatures’ weight.

“Don’t wear your arms out,” Razor said, his voice much calmer than Infinity’s. “Aim and thrust, aim and thrust.” He shoved his weapon in rhythm with the words, each thrust wounding another predator.

The tourists followed his lead and slowed their pace. But Infinity could see it was a losing battle. The predators weren’t easy to kill, and they didn’t give up when injured. She looked around frantically, her mind racing to come up with a new plan. But besides defending their quickly-failing shelter, the only other option was to climb the trees. That’d already proven to be imperfect, but they had to do something. The creatures were still concentrating their attack on one side of the shelter, leaving the backside clear. She could see no other option but to lure the predators away long enough to give the tourists a chance to get up into the trees. She couldn’t outrun the creatures, so it was probably a suicide move. With any luck, the flesh of her own body would keep them busy long enough. All she had to do was get all of them to chase her at once.

“They’re coming in!” Xavier cried. He and Lenny were desperately stabbing at a predator that was halfway through an opening it had created. It caught Lenny’s stalk in its beak and ripped it from his hands. Razor pushed his way between the tourists and skewered the predator’s neck while Lenny grabbed one of the last remaining weapons.

They were out of time. Infinity pushed her way into a gap in the shelter’s backside and started crawling out. A hand clamped onto her ankle and dragged her back in.

“The hell you will,” Razor snarled. “I’m already weak. You’ll be more useful to them.” He moved to the gap and started through it.

She grabbed his arm. “I’m not letting you—”

He turned on her viciously. “No, fuck that! You know I’m right. It’s my move. Make it count.”

She gritted her teeth but then nodded and handed him the last sharpened stalk. “Kill as many as you can.”

“Damn right.” He took the extra weapon and crawled through the gap.

Suddenly the predators stopped attacking.

Lenny said, “Are you guys seeing this?”

Infinity turned. The predators were all frozen in place, staring at three approaching creatures. These animals were larger—much larger, each of them the size of two or three adult grizzly bears. Like the smaller predators, they walked upright on two bird legs, and they were covered in brown fur or perhaps feathers. Their diminutive forelimbs were the size of Infinity’s arms, and their heads were larger than a horse’s, with massive serrated beaks. All three of the beasts stopped and gazed down at the frozen predators with huge, round, unblinking eyes.

“Everyone freeze,” Infinity whispered. She then realized Razor was still pushing himself out through the logs behind her, unaware of what was happening. “Razor,” she hissed. “Get back in here.”

He turned to look.

One of the giants walked around the shelter. It stood above Razor, staring down at him, its head shifting back and forth as if trying to see better.

Suddenly all hell broke loose. The shelter’s roof crashed inward. The dead predator with its head hanging down was mashed into the ground between Xavier and Lenny. It was then yanked upward and pulled completely out of the destroyed shelter. Infinity saw movement from the side as another of the giants lunged forward and grabbed one of the smaller predators by the neck. It shook the creature, instantly killing it. The remaining predators scattered.

Infinity turned to Razor. He was holding perfectly still as the third giant, still above him, watched the chaos, swiveling its head like it was trying to decide which retreating predator to chase. But then it turned its attention back to Razor. It leaned forward, extending its massive beak toward him.

Infinity lunged into the tangled branches, trying to get close enough to stab at the giant with her weapon. Several branches cracked, drawing the giant’s attention, but she couldn’t get through.

Razor took advantage of this distraction and started pushing himself back toward the shelter’s interior. This movement caught the giant’s eye.

Infinity screamed at it, struggling to get through the tangle with her weapon.

The creature crashed its beak through the branches and grabbed Razor’s head. It started walking backwards, pulling his struggling body out of the shelter.

“No!” Infinity screamed.

The giant’s beak clamped shut, crushing Razor’s skull. His arms and legs stopped flailing.

“God almighty,” Xavier said, and then he started retching.

Infinity stared in disbelief at her dead partner, his body now lying ten feet from the shelter. The giant put one foot on Razor’s body and began feeding. She turned away. No time to grieve now. The other two giants were busy feeding on their own prey. And the smaller predators were gone.

She turned to Desmond. “We’re moving—now. I got Xavier.” She pulled Xavier to his knees. Without bothering to check if the giants were coming for them, she fought her way out of the shelter. She reached back in. “Your hand!” Xavier took her hand and she pulled him out, cracking some of the smaller branches in the process. He grunted in pain but didn’t scream—definitely tougher than he looked.

Seconds later Desmond was at her side and they pulled Lenny out.

Infinity glanced at the giants. They were still focused on their meals. She made the mistake of looking at Razor’s body, which was now half-consumed. She sucked in a lungful of air and bent over to lift Xavier in a fireman’s carry.

“Just hold me up,” he whispered. “I’ll hop.”

She put his arm over her shoulder, and they took off as fast as Xavier could move, followed by Desmond and Lenny, hopping along in the same way.

* * *

The terrain was still forested but had become rockier in the last few hundred yards, with more ups and downs. But still they hadn’t found any natural structures offering safety from predators. They were now resting while Infinity inspected a tree she thought would support the weight of all four humans.

“I don’t want to go up in a tree again,” Xavier said between wheezes. He had been hopping along on one foot for at least half an hour. He and Lenny were showing signs of exhaustion. Soon they’d have to be carried.

“Doesn’t matter what you want,” she said. But silently she agreed with him. A tree would be a last resort. Besides, she had glimpsed a tall bluff ahead. Maybe they’d find refuge there.

Infinity appraised Lenny, who was standing on one foot, supported by Desmond. If not for Lenny’s mangled leg, Infinity wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart. A quarter of a mile back they had crossed another small stream, and they’d taken a few minutes to cover themselves in thick mud. With the mud and their bald heads, the three tourists now looked pretty much the same.

“I’ve been watching,” Desmond said, still panting from assisting his friend. “Haven’t seen predators. Flushed some birds. A few smaller ground animals.”

Lenny sagged against Desmond’s side. His shredded and mud-coated foot was still dripping blood. “Gotta sit down, Des. For a few minutes.”

“No,” Infinity said. “Stay on your feet. There’s a cliff of some kind ahead of us. You gotta make it to that. If there’s nothing better there, we’ll get you into a tree. Then you can rest.”

Lenny raised his head and tried to focus, looking through the trees for the cliff. “Okay, I can do it,” he said, although Infinity doubted he could even see it. Lenny turned to look at Desmond. “Sorry man, but I gotta say, this vacation sucks.”

Desmond started walking, dragging his friend with him. Infinity walked behind them, dragging Xavier.

“And why does Xavier get the girl?” Lenny said. “I love you, man, but I’d rather—”

“Less talking, more walking,” Infinity snapped.

As they approached the rocky bluff, Infinity spotted something that gave her a sliver of hope. Several dark, gaping holes were visible on the cliff face, one of them easily large enough that they could fit inside. The good news—it was on a vertical cliff, safe from predators, at least from those they’d seen so far. The bad news—it was on a vertical cliff. The cavity was about ten feet from the top of a solid-stone bluff that was at least fifty feet high.

She stopped and pointed with her free hand. “That’s it. That cave is where we’re going.”

“Whoa, Nelly,” Lenny said.

“Impossible,” Xavier said. “Not only impossible—insane.”

She ignored them and stared at Desmond until he met her gaze. He frowned, cracking some of the mud drying on his face. But then he nodded slightly.

“She’s the bridger,” he said. “We gotta trust her.”

“Suck it up and let’s get moving,” Infinity said. They all started walking again.

“Impossible and insane,” Xavier muttered.

“Less talking, more walking.”

They emerged from the trees. Before them, flowing along the base of the cliff, was a river. The water on their side was clear and shallow with a rocky bed, but it dropped off to a deep channel below the cliff.

Infinity glanced at Desmond. He was watching her, and so were the other two.

She looked up and down the river. Downriver the cliff gradually sloped until it was not much higher than the water, a couple hundred yards away. They could cross the river there, walk up the slope, and figure out a way to drop down to the cave. It would be dangerous, but less dangerous than staying on the ground or in a tree.

“The river changes nothing,” she said. She nodded toward the cave. “We’re still going up there.”

7

Rope

Crossing the river would be less of a problem than Desmond had thought. He was standing in the deepest part, and it was barely to his waist. The most difficult part was slogging through the mud beneath the slower-moving water of the channel. That, and walking barefoot on the rocks of the shallower water. He made his way back to the shore.

“It’s not that deep,” he called back to Lenny and Xavier, trying to sound positive. “We can do this. Infinity and I will take you across one at a time.” He moved to Lenny’s side and then waited for Infinity to help. But she was staring upstream.

“Don’t move,” she said.

Everyone froze. Her low tone could mean only one thing. Ever so slowly, Desmond turned his head to follow her gaze. Less than a hundred yards upstream, four creatures were silently walking from the forest toward the edge of the river. More followed behind them, appearing one at a time in single file. Their coats were brown with diagonal streaks of black, no doubt to facilitate blending into the shadows and shafts of sunlight in the forest. Like most of the other animals Desmond had seen in this world, these walked on two legs, with tiny forearms protruding from their shoulders. Their legs and necks were thinner, and their heads proportionally smaller, than those of the predators. On their faces were blunt, sparrow-like beaks.

Desmond relaxed. Everything about these creatures suggested that they were timid herbivores, not predators. And the way they paused every few steps to survey their surroundings indicated they preferred to avoid conflict rather than seeking it out. As the creatures arrived at the river’s edge, they lowered their heads and began drinking. Soon nearly fifteen of them were lined up by the water, taking turns drinking and watching for danger.

“Those aren’t predators,” Infinity said, and she moved to Lenny’s other side.

One of the creatures spotted the movement. It let out a shrill whistle and stamped one foot on the rocky ground. The other heads shot up to look. And then they all ran, disappearing into the forest.

“Infinity,” Lenny said as they guided him into the water, “you need to figure out how tourists can bring cameras through the bridge. Those things were wicked-cool, like this world’s version of deer.”

As they moved into the deeper water, Lenny looked down. “Man, still bleeding.” The water had washed the layer of mud off his leg and mangled foot, and spirals of dark red were swirling away in the current.

“Don’t focus on it,” Infinity said. “You’re not losing enough to die before 7:00 PM tomorrow.”

Another movement in the water caught Desmond’s eye. A mass of flashing silver moved toward them, apparently following the trail of blood—a school of small fish. They shot forward the last few feet, swarming Lenny’s foot.

“What is that?” Lenny said. “Ow. They’re biting!”

“Move, tourists!” Infinity picked up the pace, practically dragging them both.

Lenny began jerking his leg back and forth. “Ow! Ouch. Hurry!”

As they pulled him up the far bank, Lenny actually snorted out a laugh. “The little shits are wicked-vicious.”

They set him on his butt, and Infinity inspected his leg. She plucked off a three-inch fish that had refused to let go and held it up between her fingers for them to see. It was similar in structure to the fish of their own world. It obviously had feeding habits similar to a piranha’s, but it was longer and thinner, like a minnow with teeth.

“I’m not getting in that water,” Xavier called out from the other shore.

Infinity tossed the fish aside. “Yes you are.” She started back across.

Desmond followed her. “Don’t worry Xavier, you won’t be in long enough for them to hurt you. Just be glad your crotch isn’t bleeding.”

Xavier complained a bit more, but they hauled him across, but this time the fish didn’t show up. When they were all together on the shore, they re-applied mud to their bodies.

As Infinity finished covering her scalp and face, she said, “Listen up. We need to make a length of rope. We need long plant fibers: grass, reeds, long leaves, stems. Or animal skin, tendons, or guts. Anything long. We’ll collect what we can as we make our way up the slope to the cliff ridge.” She eyed them for a minute. “Everyone understand?”

Sitting on their butts in the mud, Xavier and Lenny nodded.

Desmond said, “How are you doing, Infinity? Razor is dead and you haven’t said a word about it.”

She gazed at him, but her expression was hard to read beneath the layer of mud. “He’s not the first partner I’ve lost. Doesn’t help to talk about it. What matters is that you three are alive. Because of his sacrifice. That’s what bridgers do.”

They were all silent for several seconds.

“Here’s to Razor, then,” Lenny said, and he held up an imaginary glass.

“To Razor,” Desmond and Xavier said. They leaned in and touched Lenny’s hand with their fists. The three tourists turned to Infinity to see if she would join them.

She nodded without holding her hand out. “Damn right.”

* * *

As they approached the crest of the hill, they found several varieties of grass-like plants that Infinity said would suffice for making rope. They pulled some but couldn’t carry much while supporting Xavier and Lenny. By the time they arrived at the spot directly above the cave, they had dropped half of what they’d gathered.

As Desmond lowered Lenny to the ground, he noticed there were no trees or protruding rocks to anchor a rope—one more factor casting doubt on Infinity’s plan. But he decided not to dampen the mood by bringing it up. He and Infinity gathered the grass they had dropped and the rest of what was growing in the area, but it wasn’t much. They carried it back to Xavier and Lenny.

“Move back from the edge,” Infinity said. “You’re visible to predators coming to the river to drink.” They scooted back, and she sat on the ground between them, the pile of plant fibers in front of her. She picked up a few of the stems and pulled on them, testing their strength. “Watch carefully. I don’t want to have to show you twice.” She laid a bundle of the grass on a flat stone and pounded it gently with another stone, starting at one end of the bundle and pounding her way to the other end. “This makes it flexible. Don’t hit so hard it cuts through the fibers.”

She then extracted about twenty stems from the bundle, tied them all in a knot at one end, and separated the loose end into two bundles of about ten stems each. “Watch what I do with my fingers.” She twisted one of the bundles of ten several times and then passed it over the second bundle. She did the same to the second bundle, twisting it and then passing it back over the first. “Twist the bundle one direction, then wrap the twisted bundle around the other bundle in the opposite direction. This way it’ll bind tighter under a load.” Her fingers sped up, twisting and wrapping, twisting and wrapping.

Seconds later only a few inches of the fibers remained unwrapped. “When you get to the end, splice another bundle into each strand.” She picked up another bundle of ten and demonstrated the splicing. “Keep doing this until your cord is about twenty feet long. How long, Xavier?”

“I heard you. Twenty feet.”

“Good. When you’ve made at least twenty of those twenty-foot cords, we’ll braid them together in the same way but on a larger scale. That’ll shorten the whole thing to about fifteen feet. Desmond, why do we need fifteen feet?”

“Because that’ll be long enough to reach the cave below us.”

“Lenny, why not make it longer than that?”

“Uh, because we can’t waste any time?”

“Good.” She got to her feet. “You make cords. I’ll go look for more fibers. If I don’t come back, get it done anyway. Your best chance to survive until bridge-back is to get in that cave.” She turned to leave.

Desmond got up. “Wait. I should go instead of you.” He nodded toward Lenny and Xavier. “If something attacks, you can protect them better than I can.”

She frowned at him. “You’re right. You should go. But listen. Predators will either hear you, smell you, or see you. Be aware of that. Move silently. Keep your eyes open, especially downwind. Anything smells you, that’s where it’ll come from. You can’t avoid a predator unless you see it before it sees you. Understood?”

He nodded.

“Go upstream. Stay in sight of the river. You can’t get lost that way.”

He nodded again. “I don’t plan to go far.”

He left them on the cliff and headed upstream alone.

* * *

Desmond didn’t find a substantial stand of suitable grasses until he had descended the hill and made his way to the top of the next ridge. The grasses apparently grew only on the hilltops where there were no trees. He pulled all he could find and placed them in a pile. It didn’t look like enough. He saw another hilltop another quarter-mile upstream. He turned and looked back the way he’d come. He could see the first ridge but couldn’t make out the three humans sitting there. That was good. The less visible they were, the better.

Being this far from the others was already starting to make him uncomfortable. Not only that, but his feet were also bleeding from the rocky terrain. But he couldn’t go back without what he’d come for. He left the pile of grass to pick up on his way back and headed down the slope toward the next hill.

A small stream ran through the valley between the two hills, emptying into the river. Desmond stopped long enough to apply a fresh layer of mud to his skin. The mud had become a comfort to him, making him feel less exposed.

As he was climbing the next hill, two creatures exploded from a low clump of brush. Desmond staggered back in panic. But instead of attacking, the creatures fled. They were the same type of timid animals the humans had seen drinking from the river. One was half the size of the other, perhaps a mother and its offspring.

Watching them disappear amidst the trees on the hillside, Desmond felt a wave of self-centered remorse. His purpose for coming here was to find and observe creatures like these, as well as every other living thing he encountered. It had been a last-ditch attempt to produce a doctoral dissertation that might gain him some notoriety. Sure, bridging excursions had been the focus of research before, but none of the attempts had amounted to much, due to the limitations of bridging. The researchers simply couldn’t remember enough detail to create more than a superficial, descriptive account of their destination worlds. But with Desmond it was different, which was why his supervising professors hadn’t rejected his dissertation proposal.

His entire research mission had gone out the window within seconds of bridging to this world. Months of careful planning and a million and a half of Xavier’s family money, all wasted. And a good bridger had died trying to protect them. The whole thing was a disaster. Even if they managed to survive until bridge-back, Desmond had little to look forward to upon returning except guilt, shame at his arrogance, and an uncertain future.

The next hill was taller than the first two, and he emerged from the trees onto the summit breathing hard. He turned his back to the river to gaze down at a wide, mostly-treeless valley that spread out into the distance. The sight nearly took his breath away. A herd of hundreds—maybe thousands—of animals grazed near the center. Smaller groups of creatures of another type dotted the valley here and there. At this distance, he couldn’t make out details, but he could see that all of them walked on two legs.

The view was truly mesmerizing, but he had been gone too long. He gathered an armload of grass stems and headed back. As he descended the hill, he spotted a patch of the same rigid plants they had used to make sharpened weapons. They had abandoned the last of the weapons when they’d escaped from the shelter, so he took a detour away from the river to get some. For several minutes, he watched a bewildering variety of flies and butterfly-like insects swarming around the green bubble structures at the tip of each stalk. Finally he sighed and pulled up four of the stalks.

He angled back toward the river. He was applying yet another layer of mud after re-crossing the small stream, when he heard something approaching. The rustling of dead bubble leaves, a splash in the stream, and then the crack of a fairly large branch—unmistakable sounds of a heavy creature. It was close, but he couldn’t see it yet. Which meant it couldn’t see him. He carefully stepped to a cluster of small trees and stood behind them, watching.

There was movement at about fifty yards up the stream, glimpses of dark brown. Seconds later it came into full view—the same type of monstrous predator that had killed and eaten Razor. The creature was walking along the stream. It was already too close for Desmond to creep away without being seen. It was coming directly toward him—he would have to run. The thing was massive, but there was no doubt it could outrun him. With paralyzing clarity, Desmond realized he was screwed.

He willed himself to run, but he was frozen in place. If he ran, his life would probably end within seconds. If he stayed there, maybe there was a chance the creature would change direction.

It kept coming.

Abruptly, the thing stopped. It raised its beak as if sniffing the air. It looked to one side and then the other, still sniffing. Desmond’s heart was racing, and his hands were starting to shake. He closed his eyes, trying to relax, to control his movements the way Infinity had instructed.

When he opened his eyes, the creature was looking directly at him. Desmond didn’t dare blink. Instead, he slowly closed his eyelids until he was looking through narrow slits, hoping to keep his eyes moist enough to avoid the need to blink. The predator stared, not moving a muscle. Excruciating seconds passed. Desmond knew the thing was unlikely to simply turn around and go away. If he wanted to live, he would have to run—maybe get up into a tree before the creature caught him. But still, his legs refused.

Finally, the creature took a step. It then crouched low to the ground.

Desmond turned and ran. Immediately he heard the predator take off in pursuit, crashing through everything in its path. Several trees with low branches whisked by Desmond, but the predator was too close behind for him to try to climb. The only thing he could think of was to run straight for the river, jump in, and try to make it across. But he still couldn’t see the water, and the creature was gaining on him.

He ran past something that caught his eye—something that seemed out of place. Confused, he snapped his head back to look. It was a dead, mangled animal, skewered against a huge tree by two sharpened poles at the chest height.

The predator stopped pursuing him. Desmond’s momentum took him a few more steps, but he came to a stop and stared back, trying to comprehend what was happening. The predator sniffed the air. It then stepped up to the dead animal and stared at it.

Desmond was only thirty yards ahead. He should have been running, but something about the situation kept him in place. Before he could ask himself what it was, the huge predator lunged forward, clamped its beak onto the dead animal, and shook it. At the same moment, something exploded from the branches above, scattering bubble-leaves and slamming down onto the predator. It was so sudden and violent that Desmond stumbled back and fell on his butt.

He got to his feet and stepped closer. The predator was dead, pinned to the ground by rows of sharpened poles that had pushed all the way through its body. The poles were attached to a rectangular frame by tightly-wrapped cord. Tied atop the frame were several large stones, obviously there to provide additional momentum.

Desmond realized he wasn’t breathing and sucked in a lungful of air. He suddenly felt helpless and exposed. Something—or someone—had set a trap.

* * *

As stealthily as he could, Desmond returned to where he’d first seen the predator and retrieved the bundle of grass and the rigid stalks. These materials were more important now than he had previously realized. He made his way to the top of the first hill and grabbed the other bundle of grass. He descended that hill and made his way up to the summit of the cliff face. He found the others hunkered down in a low area where they were less visible. Panting from the climb, he dumped the materials beside them and joined them on the ground.

“We’re not alone,” he said.

Lenny and Xavier stared at him.

“Clarify,” Infinity said.

“There’s an intelligent species here. At least intelligent enough to construct a highly effective kill trap for large animals.”

Infinity sat up straight and swiveled her head, looking in every direction. “Describe the kill trap. Did it have any parts that indicate an industrial or technological society, like metal or plastic?”

He shook his head. “Nothing like that. Wood mostly, tied together with cord. Rocks tied on for weight.”

She mouthed a silent curse. “Just what we need.” She then seemed to realize they were waiting for her to explain. “Primitive non-human tribes are bad news. At least in my experience.”

“Maybe they’d be willing to help us,” Lenny said. “It’d be freaking mind-blowing to meet them.”

Infinity shook her head. “Not an option.”

Lenny persisted. “How can you know that? Don’t be so pessimistic about people. It’s all in how you present yourself to them. I think they might help us.”

“We don’t even know what they are,” Desmond said. “They can’t possibly be human. Not even close to human. It’s been eighty million years since this universe diverged from ours. We haven’t seen a single mammal. I’m willing to bet there are no mammals. Think about it—this world was the same as ours until eighty million years ago. So the dinosaurs, pterosaurs, insects, therapsids, mammals, and everything else were identical to ours at that point. And they probably continued to be somewhat similar after the divergence point, at least for another fourteen million years until the Chicxulub asteroid caused the KT extinction. I suppose it’s possible the asteroid didn’t even strike in this universe, but most likely it did.”

“It almost certainly did,” Xavier said. “The damn thing was six miles across. There aren’t a lot of random things that could happen in only fourteen million years that could change its course.”

Desmond said, “So we’ll assume the asteroid struck this world. In which case the KT extinction took place here. But what’s interesting—and it’s the reason I wanted a world with divergence at eighty million years—is that, as we all know, the KT extinction caused an evolutionary bottleneck. As many as 75% of the existing species were wiped out. On our world, the small mammals that existed at that time thrived and diversified. And although the non-avian dinosaurs became extinct, the avian dinosaurs thrived and diversified into thousands of species of birds. The—”

A disturbing shriek erupted from somewhere in the forest near the river below. It sounded like one animal being killed by another. After a few seconds it stopped abruptly.

Infinity shoved the pile of grasses and several rocks at Desmond, Xavier, and Lenny. “We need rope. If you have to talk, do it while making cords.”

Desmond, Xavier, and Lenny began twisting and wrapping while Infinity sharpened the ends of the four stalks Desmond had brought.

Vocalizing his thoughts was helping Desmond keep his mind off the fact that they could be attacked at any moment, so he continued. “The diversification of life after the KT extinction could just as easily have gone any number of other ways. There was no guarantee that mammals would thrive. That’s the thing about evolutionary bottlenecks—small random events can make a huge difference. We see it over and over again in our own world, when a small population of living things becomes isolated. The Galapagos islands, for example. Anyway, after the KT extinction, almost anything could have happened.”

“And based on what we’ve seen here,” Xavier said, “the avian dinosaurs that survived the extinction event got the upper hand. They diversified and filled all the niches the mammals otherwise would have.”

“Exactly,” Desmond said.

Lenny grunted. “So they’re not human. Doesn’t flipping matter. If they’re intelligent, they’re probably basically compassionate.”

Xavier said, “You’re absurdly naive, Lenny. And in case you haven’t noticed, you and I are crippled. If you happen to be wrong, we can’t even run away.”

“Which is why we need the rope,” Infinity said. “Less talking, more twisting.”

* * *

The finished rope was surprisingly strong, as Infinity had promised. It was only an inch in diameter, but their tests had proven it would hold Lenny’s weight, and Lenny was the heaviest.

Still, the thought of hanging from it over a 50-foot cliff made Desmond feel ill. Apparently Xavier and Lenny were feeling the same way, because they had become somber once they realized it was time to actually use the rope.

Infinity, of course, was not interested in wasting time. She stepped to the edge of the bluff and dangled the rope. “Lenny, you’re first. There isn’t enough to tie around you. Just grip it above the knot.” She pulled the rope back up and held the end of it out to him. “Are you strong enough for this?”

He took the rope. “My foot’s mangled, not my hands.”

Desmond felt the need to address the obvious problem. “The rope’s barely long enough, and there’s nothing to tie it to anyway. How’s the last person going to get down?”

Infinity said, “I’m the last. Once the three of you are safe, I’ll make more rope.”

Desmond looked around. “There’s nothing here to tie it to.”

Her mud-crusted eyes narrowed. “I’ll figure it out. We’re wasting time, tourist.” She took the rope, sat on the edge of the cliff, and braced her feet against a crack in the rock surface. “Sit behind me,” she said to Desmond.

He sighed and sat down.

“Closer,” she said. “We don’t have any rope to spare.”

He inched forward until he was pressed against her back, his legs on either side of her thighs.

“Xavier, you’re behind Desmond.”

Xavier grunted in pain as he scooted into place. Infinity passed the rope back and they all gripped it on their right.

Infinity spoke to Lenny. “Lay on your belly and go over the edge feet-first. Then just hold on, and we’ll do the rest.”

Lenny moved into place, and they began lowering him down a few inches at a time, which was surprisingly easy. Desmond felt the rope stretch and tighten down on itself, just as Infinity had said it would. Lenny remained silent as he descended.

“I’ve got the knot in my hand,” Xavier said, his voice strained. “There’s no more.”

“Don’t let go,” Infinity instructed, “but extend your arm past Desmond.”

Xavier slid forward until he was pressed against Desmond’s back. Desmond half-expected him to make a joke about it, but Xavier only grunted in his ear.

Suddenly the weight on the rope was gone.

“I’m in!” Lenny called out from below. “It’s big enough for all of us.”

Infinity leaned over the edge and spoke in a low tone. “Do not shout. Understand?”

“Sorry. Uh, there’s a lot of bird shit in here. A lot.”

She ignored him and got back into position. “You’re up, Xavier. Are you strong enough to hold your own weight?”

“I’m exhausted and probably in shock. Do I have a choice?”

“If you’re too weak, you’ll wait up here with me until we can create a harness. My priority is to get you safely into the cave.”

He sighed and gingerly touched his lower leg. Desmond was glad the leg was covered in mud. When they had crossed the river, the mud had been washed away, revealing stomach-churning bruising from the knee down.

Xavier said, “I guess I’d rather die from falling than from being eaten.”

She frowned at him. “Again, can you hold your weight?”

He nodded. “I can do it, don’t worry.”

Desmond and Infinity lowered him over the edge. About a minute later Xavier cried out in pain, and the rope went slack.

“He’s okay,” Lenny called up in a hushed voice.

Infinity repositioned her feet for better leverage. “Let’s get this done,” she said.

Desmond considered her plan for a moment, and then he stood up. “I’m staying up here.”

She looked up at him. “No you’re not.”

“I’ll help you make more rope. Then we’ll figure out how to tie it off, and we’ll both go down.”

She got to her feet and faced him. “Like I said, my priority is getting you into the cave where it’s safe.”

“Well, if I help you, then it will take less time before you’re there in the cave to protect us. Besides, once I’m in that hole in the rock, my observations will be limited. I came here to collect information.”

Her gaze was intense, and the mud caked on her face made it seem even more intimidating. “The moment we bridged and your friend broke his leg, this excursion was no longer about you collecting information.” She took a step toward him.

He held his hands up as if surrendering, although he had no intention of changing his mind. “I understand that. But you and Razor saved our lives. I’m not leaving you alone up here while all three of us sit in that hole.”

She glared at him for several more seconds. “Suit yourself, tourist.”

“I’m not trying to make your job harder, I just—”

He was interrupted by a shrill whistle. They both turned and looked down the hillside to the tree line.

A group of creatures had emerged from the trees. Several of them had stopped and were staring up at the humans. The one in the lead made another whistling sound, and they all stopped, at least a dozen of them.

Desmond stared, his throat tightening. The bird-like creatures had the same basic body plan as the other large animals they’d seen—two legs, small arms, a coat of fine hair or feathers, and a beak. But there was one glaring difference. Each of these creatures was laden with tools or weapons. They gripped short spears in their hands. Thick coils of rope hung from the necks of some of them, while others bore strange devices that could have been some kind of crossbow.

“Our plans just changed again,” Infinity muttered.

8

Contact

Infinity cursed silently. She should have forced the tourist to get into to the cave. She should have put him out with a chokehold, tied the rope to his feet, and pushed him over the side. The creatures now watching them from farther down the slope were bad news. She had known that after taking one look at them.

“Stay calm,” she said softly to Desmond. “Do nothing that appears aggressive. We have to lead them away from the cave and hope they don’t already know your friends are there.”

The tourist suddenly shouted. “Lenny and Xavier, do not acknowledge that you hear me. We have company, and we don’t want them to know where you are. Stay quiet.”

A barely-audible “Oh shit!” came from below.

Infinity glared at Desmond, although she realized he’d done the right thing.

The creatures on the hillside looked at each other and began talking. Or at least it seemed like talking. They went back and forth with rapid whistles, squawks, chuckles, and clicks. Most likely, they were surprised and confused. This confusion was good, but only if she and Desmond acted immediately.

“We’re going to start by slowly leading them away,” she said to Desmond. “They’re going to follow us, whether they’re aggressive or just curious. We’ll walk straight away from the river to divert them from the cave.” She picked up the four sharpened stalks. This act might have appeared aggressive, but she wasn’t going anywhere without them.

They began walking. The creatures followed, as expected, angling toward them and still chittering at each other like a flock of 100-pound parrots. They descended the hill as it gently sloped away from the river. The rocky hillside offered no cover, and the tree line was several hundred yards away.

She cursed herself again for not making the tourist get in the cave.

He was starting to get ahead of her, glancing over his shoulder like he might run at any second.

“Slower! Show confidence.”

He slowed his pace. “Easier said than done. Besides, they can’t know what human confidence looks like.”

Still talking to each other, the creatures began spreading out. Infinity gauged the distance to the trees again. The bird men were walking faster now, and she could see that they would surround her and Desmond before they could reach the tree line. This was bad. The creatures needed to be lured farther from Lenny and Xavier. Even if she couldn’t save Desmond, at least the other two would be safe until bridge-back.

“We’re going to run,” she said.

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

She looked at Desmond’s feet. They were bleeding, which made his running ability unpredictable. “Follow me. Keep up and do not get separated.” She took one more look at the approaching bird men. They were continuing to spread out. The time was now.

“Now!” She took off for the tree line with the tourist right behind her.

The creatures’ chattering erupted into ear-splitting squawks. Infinity glanced over her shoulder. As expected, the bird men were now running. She glanced again and saw that they were quickly catching up. She and Desmond would make it into the trees before being overtaken, but not much beyond that. Several plans ran through her mind, none of them pleasant. The plan she chose would depend on the creatures’ behavior and the terrain once they reached the forest.

They broke through the brushy tree line. The forest floor was uneven and cluttered. Fallen trees and low vegetation would make all-out running impossible. Infinity looked back at their pursuers. The creatures were no longer spreading out. Instead, they were funneling into the forest at the spot where the humans had entered. Only one of her plans would work in this situation. But first they would need more of a lead.

“Faster!” she said. She jumped over logs and plowed through thick vegetation.

“I’m trying!”

Ahead was a particularly thick jumble of brush growing in and around a fallen tree. It would have to do. She headed straight for it. Ten yards out she turned to the tourist and said, “In a moment you’re going to do what I say. No questions.”

He was panting and starting to limp. “Okay.”

They rounded the side of the brushy tangle, and she put on the brakes, sliding to a stop on her side. “Get down!”

The tourist skidded awkwardly to the ground beside her.

She pushed him toward the pile. “Get inside. I’m right behind you.”

He crawled into the brush. “I’m in. Come on—there’s room for both of us.”

She tossed three of the sharpened stalks in after him and kept the other. “If you move one muscle, you die. Stay here!” She got up and ran before he had a chance to protest. She angled away from the pursuing creatures. As she ran, she began talking loudly between gasps for air. “If you’d gone… to the goddamn cave… like I told you to… I wouldn’t be trying… this stupid plan… to draw these… butt-ugly birds… away from you.”

She paused and turned to the creatures. It looked like the entire flock had angled toward her, following her voice, which was what she had hoped for. She started running again and poured on the speed, ducking, dodging, and jumping. All she had to do now was lose them and then return for the obstinate tourist and take him to the cave. And this time he was getting in, even if she had to render him unconscious.

But the creatures were gaining on her. She couldn’t run any faster over this terrain. She weighed possible plans again. They were still too close to the tourist for her to stop and hide, fight, or surrender. If the creatures had any brains at all, they’d search the area and find him. This left few choices—her first priority was to lure them farther from the tourist.

She stumbled and nearly fell as she pounded through a low muddy spot, but she quickly recovered and headed up the next hill. She ducked behind a large tree at the top of the hill and looked back. The creatures converged on the low area and came to a stop. They were looking at the ground rather than up at her, which meant they had lost her. One of them pointed at the mud with its tiny hand. The others looked at the spot. It was exactly where she had passed—they had found her tracks. At once they all looked up the hill, directly at her.

She cursed and took off again. She ran to the crest of the hill and across the open grassy summit. Suddenly she was out of space. Before her was a dizzying drop to the river. She had thought the river was far to her left, but apparently a large bend brought it around into a U shape.

She heard the creatures running up the hill. They were seconds from coming into view. On the ground to her left was a jagged notch in the crest of the cliff. She darted over to it. It turned out to be more than a notch—it was a deep crevice, disappearing into darkness. She threw herself onto the rock surface and slid into the crevice, thrusting out her hands and knees to keep from slipping too far down and getting wedged in. The jagged edge of the rock cut into her skin, and her sharpened weapon fell from her hand, tumbling out of sight.

A whistle came from above, followed by cackling and clicking. The creatures had arrived. If they came near the crevice, they would definitely see her. She slid down the rock a few more inches, scraping her palms and knees. She barely stopped herself from grunting aloud from the pain. She couldn’t stay in this tortuous position for long. She looked around. Her eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness, and now she noticed an even darker area a few yards to her left, near where the crevice opened to the space above the river. It was a cavity where a large chunk of rock had fallen out—a possible hiding spot.

The bird-like chattering above got louder as more of the creatures arrived. As silently as possible, she inched her way toward the cavity, scraping skin from her knees and back. She reached the edge of the cavity and pushed herself into it. It was shallow, but it might work as a hiding spot as long as the creatures didn’t stare down into the crevice for too long.

The chattering seemed to draw nearer. Something above cast a shadow over the crevice and hovered there. Infinity glanced up and saw that one of the creatures was peeking over the edge, looking down. She held her breath, shrinking back into the cavity as much as possible. A few seconds later the shadow pulled back and was gone.

Unable to do anything else, she listened to the creatures cackling. It was so frantic and complex she couldn’t imagine how they understood each other. Gradually, some of the voices drifted away. More shadows passed by as several of the creatures leapt over the crevice. If they were to look down from the other side, the angle might give them a better view into the cavity. But they continued on their way. A minute or so later only a few voices remained, and then it was silent.

Their scattering suggested they had split up and were still looking for her. The area wouldn’t be safe until they had given up. Since they weren’t even close to being human, it was impossible to guess how long that would take. She tried to maneuver into a more comfortable position and eventually gave up. There was nothing to do but wait. As long as the tourist had stayed where she’d left him, there was still a good chance of getting him to the safety of the cave with the other two. Assuming the bird creatures hadn’t already found the cave.

Minutes passed. She tried counting seconds but grew weary of it after three hundred.

A shadow moved over the crevice. She glanced up. One of the creatures stood on the opposite side of the crevice’s mouth, staring down. She could see its eyes, which probably meant it could see her. Suddenly she realized how helpless she was in this hiding spot. Climbing out would make her vulnerable, and she wouldn’t be able to fight until she climbed out.

The creature turned its head, looking from one end of the crevice to the other. Abruptly, it lowered its head to look closer. It was staring right at her. For several seconds it didn’t move. Then it threw its head back and let out a high whistle, no doubt alerting the others.

In a distinctly non-human motion, it used its forearms to pull something hanging from its neck up and over its head. The object looked like some kind of slingshot or crossbow, and Infinity realized she needed to act quickly.

She held her hands out and spoke softly. “I’m not here to hurt you. Please don’t hurt me.”

It paused and gazed at her. It then held the device out with both hands as if offering it to her. But Infinity knew better. She could see that the device had a fletched arrow resting in the flight groove of a center shaft pointed directly at her. The creature grabbed the fletched end of the arrow with its beak and pulled back, bending the tension limbs that protruded from each side.

Infinity shrank back into the cavity as far as she could. “Don’t do it, shit-bird!”

She heard a snap and felt a burning in her hip. She threw her hand over the spot. The arrow had passed almost all the way through the flesh of her right hip. She moved her hand to the exit wound, where the arrow was protruding. The arrow jiggled easily, which meant it wasn’t lodged in her hip bone.

She looked up at the creature, furious. It removed another arrow from beneath the weapon’s center shaft and began putting it into place. She screamed with rage, pulled the arrow the rest of the way out, and launched herself upward, lodging her body against both rock surfaces above the cavity. She ignored the pain and began frantically working her way up, focusing all of her thoughts on killing the creature with her bare hands.

But it was taking her too long. The creature had gotten the arrow in place and was holding the weapon out with both hands, clamping its beak onto the bowstring.

Infinity, still several feet below the crevice opening, realized she was going to take another hit, and this one would be much worse.

The bird pulled back, aiming at her, ready to release the arrow.

“No!” she cried, tucking her head below her arms to avoid being shot in the face.

She heard a dull thud, and then a heavy weight crashed onto her head and shoulders, knocking her several excruciating feet back down into the crevice. The heavy object rolled off her and became wedged into the tighter space below. It began grunting and struggling, but it had little room to move. It was the bird creature.

“Grab hold!”

She looked up. Desmond was kneeling above her, extending one of the crude spears down for her to grab.

9

Mud

Desmond waited, holding his sharpened stalk out for Infinity to grab. She didn’t look so good. Her eyes were wide, the first time he had seen her display any hint of fear. Her blood was smeared on the rock faces on either side of her, and more blood was dripping from her thigh onto the creature wedged into the crevice below. The thing was barely struggling to free itself, obviously dazed. Desmond had hit it upside the head as hard as he could with his stalk.

“You should hurry,” he said.

She grunted and grabbed the stalk while using her legs to keep herself from falling deeper. Desmond leaned back, straining to pull her up. She scaled the edge and sprawled on her face on the rock surface beside him. Blood was still dripping from her hip, already forming a puddle.

“That looks bad,” he said, pressing his hand against the hole on the back of her hip to stop the flow. He then realized blood was also flowing from the front of her hip. “Jesus, it went all the way though.”

She got to her feet, grimacing in pain. “We have to go. The others are coming.” She took a step and stumbled.

Desmond put her left arm over his shoulder, and she didn’t protest the help. They headed for the nearest tree line. At ten yards from the forest, one of the bird people emerged from the brush directly in front of them. The thing saw them and stopped, apparently surprised.

“Maybe this one will be friendly,” Desmond whispered.

The creature whistled loudly and reached for the crossbow hanging from its neck.

In a flash, Infinity grabbed Desmond’s spear from his hand, hefted herself from his shoulder, and closed the distance to the creature with startling speed. At the last second, she used her good leg to launch herself into the air, spun completely around, and kicked the startled creature in the neck. The creature crumpled to the ground. Infinity landed on one foot, still spinning, and raised the sharpened stalk above her head as she completed the second circle. She grunted and drove it through the creature where its neck joined its body. The thing started flailing around, so she pulled the spear out and stabbed again and again until it was still.

She stood above the bird man with her eyes closed, taking slow, deep breaths to cope with the pain she had inflicted upon herself. A few seconds later, she opened her eyes and held her arm out toward Desmond. “Let’s go.”

Desmond stared at her for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. He snapped out of it and rushed to her side. She put her arm over his shoulder again, and together they pushed their way through the brush and into the forest.

A whistle came from somewhere to their left. It was answered by another straight ahead. Infinity pointed to the right, and they headed that direction. As they moved through the forest, Desmond noticed out of the corner of his vision that Infinity kept glancing at the trees above.

“Wait,” she whispered. When they had come to a stop, she nodded upward. “There.”

He looked. “More climbing?”

“We have no choice.”

He helped her to the base of the tree, which she’d apparently chosen for its immense height and accessible branches. He waited for Infinity to start climbing first and then followed her up. He heard her whimpering softly each time she pulled herself higher.

Desmond said, “They’ll be pissed when they see what we’ve done to two of their companions.”

She paused and looked down at him with a finger pressed to her lips.

They continued climbing until they came upon two thick limbs growing side-by-side from the main trunk, one slightly higher than the other. Infinity straddled one of the limbs with her back to the trunk, and Desmond sat on the other limb. They were a good fifty feet above the ground, with enough branches and bubble leaves below to provide at least some concealment.

Infinity pulled her legs up and rested them in front of her on her limb. She tapped Desmond and nodded at her legs. He lifted his own legs onto his limb, although he had to cross them to prevent them from sliding back off. The strangely-soft covering of the trunk and limb almost felt like skin against his body.

They waited.

Over the next several minutes a few whistles came from different directions. Desmond glimpsed one of the creatures walking below, making its way back to the rocky summit of the hill. It would likely find the bird man Infinity had killed at the edge of the forest, as well as the injured one in the crevice at the summit.

Things were quiet for several more minutes. But then they heard a cacophony of squawks and whistles in the distance as the bird creatures gathered. No doubt they would intensify their search.

He turned to Infinity. To stop her blood from dripping, she was pressing one hand to the wound on the front of her hip while pressing her other hand to the wound in the back.

She noticed he was staring at her. “I told you to stay where I left you,” she hissed.

He raised his brows, cracking the last of the mud still coating his forehead. “You’re welcome.”

She exhaled and pressed her head against the trunk behind her, trying to ignore the pain. But she managed a nod. “Thank you.”

“We have to stop the bleeding,” he said.

She nodded again. “I need to climb to the ground. To get what I need.”

“I’ll go get what you need.”

She gazed at him, thinking. “Sunset is close. An hour, maybe. Our best option is to stay here. But I won’t last if I can’t plug this up.” She quietly listened for a moment. “They’re still talking. I agree—you should go.” She glanced at her hip and sighed. “I’m a liability now.”

“Just tell me what you need.”

“A handful of pliable mud. And several fresh, flat leaves, each at least three inches across. From a tree, not from the ground.”

Desmond looked at the bubble leaves around them. Several were within reach, so he plucked one off. Like all the others, it was green-tinted and full of air. He popped it with his fingers and then tore it in half. He held up the two halves.

She nodded. “Should work.”

He looked down, surveying the area below. “Okay, I’ll be back as quickly as possible.” He slid his legs off the limb and started climbing down.

She grabbed his arm. “Follow the slope. There’s a stream at the bottom. Don’t move fast—move smart. The only sure defense is to not be seen.”

He nodded. “I won’t be long.” He descended from the tree, thinking about Infinity’s condition. He was worried—she wouldn’t have allowed him to do this if it weren’t absolutely necessary.

Once on the ground, Desmond realized he could no longer hear the bird creatures talking, either due to his lower position or because they had separated to renew their search. He crept down the slope to the stream, watching and listening for any movement. After quickly refreshing the layer of mud on his body, he used both hands to gather what he could carry. Several minutes later he arrived back at the tree, apparently undetected. He pressed the lump of mud to his belly and tried climbing with his other hand. This wasn’t working, so he had to take what mud he could in one fist, looping that arm over limbs when needed. Several drops of Infinity’s blood hit his face as he climbed.

When he was halfway up, a noisy chittering sound erupted from above and to his left, startling him. At first he didn’t see it, but then it moved—a small black animal with a pale gray belly. It could only be described as a squirrel with a beak and feathers. And it was angry.

Desmond looked down uncomfortably, aware that the noise the squirrel was making could alert the bird men. He waved his arm at it and spoke in a whisper. “Get!”

The squirrel stopped. A few seconds later it started again. Desmond tried shaking a limb, having no effect. Finally, he resorted to throwing a chunk of the mud he’d collected. This sent the creature scampering away, and it jumped to another tree and disappeared. Again he checked the area below for signs of their pursuers and then continued climbing.

Finally, he positioned himself beside Infinity. “This is all I’ve got.”

“It’s enough. Hold it out right there.” She pressed one of the halves of the bubble leaf over the hole in her hip. Holding it in place with one hand, she grabbed half the mud with her other hand and placed it on the leaf. “Hold my arm. Don’t let me fall.”

Desmond didn’t like the sound of this, but he turned and gripped her arm below the shoulder with his free hand.

“Watch what I do,” she said. She pushed her finger two inches into the wound, forcing mud into it, the leaf folding up around the mud as a sheath. Her head slammed back against the soft bark of the tree as she stifled a cry. Desmond held her steady. She looked back down at her hip, pulled her finger out, and stuffed more of the mud into the hole until it was full. She then closed her eyes, taking deep breaths.

“You okay?”

She handed him the other half of the leaf. “You need to do the exit wound.” She then leaned to the side, turning her right butt cheek toward him, and gripped a limb that was above her head.

“You’re not serious. I can’t do that.”

“Don’t be a pussy, Decay.”

He looked at the wound. Blood was still dripping out, and the layer of mud on the skin around it was stained red and smeared into messy patterns. “Why do you need the mud? Can’t I just push the leaf in there?”

“The mud makes a good plug. Shove it in so it expands below the wound opening. When it’s wider than the opening, it won’t fall out. Please, Desmond, just get it done.”

“Well, if you’re resorting to using my real name… hold on.” He put some mud on the leaf and jammed it into the hole.

She bucked and stifled another cry.

He then packed in more mud until he was sure it was wider than the hole. “Finished.”

She eased back to her sitting position and rested there with her eyes closed. Finally, she said, “Thirty-six hours can be a long time.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh and then stared out at what was now obviously the western sky. “Well, at least we have good seats for the sunset.” The clouds above the horizon glowed with a shade of red not quite like any sunset he had ever seen on his own world. Or maybe that was just his imagination.

She opened her eyes and stared at the sky. “No humans have ever seen the sun set on this world.”

“I imagine you’ve had a lot of opportunities to say that.”

“Not really. Most tourists aren’t crazy enough to bridge to a world with an eighty-million-year divergence.”

For several minutes they watched in silence as the sun dropped behind the other treetops. Desmond suddenly realized the temperature had dropped at least ten degrees. When the sun was no longer visible, the relatively silent forest seemed to wake up. Countless insects, and probably other creatures Desmond couldn’t even imagine, began calling. It was a living symphony of sounds completely alien to human ears.

By the time Desmond spoke again, he had to raise his voice above a whisper in order to be heard. “It’s going to be a long night. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep without falling.”

She didn’t answer.

“I keep seeing the way you killed that bird man in my head,” he said. “Where did you learn to kick like that?”

“I learned it before I was ten. It’s a 540 kick. Because you spin 540 degrees. I figured it was a move a stupid bird wouldn’t expect.”

“So you’ve always been a fighter?”

She waited a few seconds before answering. “Before I was seventeen, I fought because I had to. After that I fought for money.”

“Your online profile said you were a mixed martial arts fighter.”

“Mostly. After high school I tried making a living at it. Six years. Something I don’t recommend. Then a rep from SafeTrek came to my training club and gave a spiel. They were looking for good hand-to-hand fighters. Because weapons don’t bridge. Adventure and good pay for the right person. So I applied.”

“Doyle told us you’re the best bridger he’s ever seen.”

She blew out a brief laugh. “Only because I haven’t died yet.”

Desmond wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he stared at the sky. The first stars were showing up. He knew the stars would be pretty much identical to those he’d see if he were back in his own universe. Not much could happen to stars in only eighty million years.

“Your turn,” she said, just loud enough to be heard over the night creatures. “Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Nothing really. I just figured it was your turn.”

He turned and stared at her in the fading light. She may have been smiling slightly, but he couldn’t tell for sure. “I can tell you this,” he said. “I don’t want to die here, but I’m not excited about going back.”

She shifted her head slightly to gaze at him. “Not what I expected.”

“Well, I’m going to have almost nothing to show for this excursion. I had carefully planned an entire sequence of observations, focusing on the types of data I’m good at recalling. That all went out the window seconds after we arrived. Other than random things I’ve encountered, I won’t have much of anything for my dissertation. They’ve already given me too many extensions and free passes. Three years in my PhD program, and now I’ll never finish. I think I was in over my head from the beginning anyway.”

“I thought you had a photographic memory.”

“Recalling information isn’t everything.”

“Why did you leave your hiding spot and follow me?” she asked, changing the subject.

“The bird men were chasing you. I waited until they had all passed by. I thought you might need help. Turns out I was right.” He watched her, but she didn’t respond. He noticed she was shivering. He said, “The temperature has dropped more than I thought it would. I’m afraid it’s going to get pretty cold by morning.”

“The air here is dry, that’s why.”

“You’re cold already.”

She nodded. “It’s the blood loss.”

He looked down at the two limbs supporting them. Hers was wider than his. “Um, I’m not trying to be a creep, but maybe we should—”

“Yes, we can save heat by reducing surface area. And you’re not being a creep—you’re being smart. My body needs rest or I’ll be worthless to you tomorrow.” She inched forward on her limb, leaving a gap between her back and the trunk. “Sit behind me.”

At this moment it seemed anything he could say would be awkward, so he silently got up and maneuvered into place behind her. After a bit of fumbling, he was able to place his feet on the limb with his knees bent outward and her legs resting on top of his feet. It was reasonably comfortable. He put one arm around her waist. With his other hand he gripped the same limb she’d clung to when he had plugged her wound.

They sat this way for several minutes without talking. It felt surprisingly comforting having her warm body against his.

Suddenly she gripped his leg so hard it hurt.

He was about to protest when he heard it, too—a creature moving on the forest floor below. He glanced down, but the space below was an ocean of blackness. Each step the creature took produced a low thud on the soil. It was large, much larger than the bird men. It stopped every few steps, and he could hear it sniffing the air. It must have tracked their scent to this tree. It began walking back the way it had come but then doubled back and stopped beneath them again. Could a creature that large climb the tree? It walked back and forth several more times, and then it wandered off, its footsteps slowly growing fainter and fading away.

Desmond let out a long breath. “I can’t imagine putting myself in situations like this for a living. But I bet you’ve seen some amazing things.”

She leaned her bald head back to rest on his chest. “You don’t see things the way I do. You see things that amaze you. I see only threats.”

He considered this. He suddenly had a new understanding of the vast differences between her life and his. She had grown up fighting, probably for her very life. Then she had continued fighting to survive, but in a different way—to make money. And now she was fighting to save the lives of tourists.

“Do you enjoy what you do? Being a bridger, I mean.”

“Not today.”

He decided to change the subject. “Infinity is a good bridger name. But I wouldn’t mind knowing your real name.”

“We don’t tell tourists our real names.”

“Well, this tourist saved your life today. Don’t I deserve a little more?”

Her shoulders shook once, perhaps a brief chuckle. “Maybe you do. My name’s Passerina.”

He had heard that name before. Suddenly he made the connection. “The painted bunting!” He moved his hand from her belly and put his finger on the tattoo on her chest. “That explains the tattoo.”

She didn’t respond to this, so he moved his hand back to her waist. He would have to hold on to her all night to keep her from falling if she fell asleep.

After a few minutes of silence, he said. “It’s cool that your parents named you after a bird.”

She didn’t respond to this.

“It’s also cool that you keep having the tattoo re-inked.”

Still she didn’t respond.

He sighed. Maybe she just didn’t feel like talking. Then he noticed her breathing had become rhythmic. She was already asleep.

Desmond looked up at the stars. He tightened his grip on the limb he’d been using for stability and tightened his other arm around Infinity.

10

Pets

August 4

Infinity’s eyes flicked open. Her surroundings had changed. Instead of darkness and stars she saw blue sky and bubble leaves. She wasn’t sure it was real. She had awakened so many times, each time struggling to differentiate between reality and disturbing dreams about Razor being attacked again and again by beaked predators. Something tightened around her waist. A warm arm.

“You really awake this time?” The voice was inches from her ear.

“I think so. Yes. Shit. I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

“You needed rest.”

“I suppose you stayed awake all night. Otherwise I would’ve fallen, and I’d be busted up on the ground.”

“Yeah. It’s a good thing I’m dehydrated. Taking a pee would have been awkward.” Desmond shifted his weight to the side, and hazy memories came back to Infinity of him doing that over and over during the night.

She pulled his arm from her waist and sat up straight. Her hip burned as she shifted, and she sensed that it would have been much worse if she hadn’t slept. “You’ve saved my life twice now,” she said.

“A couple more times and we’ll be even.”

She inspected her hip wound. It looked infected as hell, but it wasn’t bleeding. The plugs were doing their job. If she made it to bridge-back, they’d bombard her with antibiotics, give her a few weeks off, and then assign her to another excursion. She leaned back against the warmth of Desmond’s body. “It’s August. Why is it so cold?” She pulled his arm around her waist again, which helped.

He shifted again. “Like you said last night, the air here is dry, maybe because these trees don’t transpire like ours do. And there are countless other changes that could have occurred in the last eighty million years.”

She began weighing the merits of several courses of action. Based on the sun’s height above the eastern horizon, bridge-back was probably twelve hours away. Maybe the safest option was to stay where they were.

“We need to get back to Lenny and Xavier,” the tourist said, as if he had sensed what she was thinking. “They may need our help.”

“They’ll be safe until bridge-back. If the damn bird men are still crawling all over this area, the last thing we want to do is reveal your friends’ location by attempting to go there.” She was glad they were contained where they couldn’t get out. It gave her one less thing to worry about. But she decided not to share this with Desmond.

“Maybe you’re right. But I wish we could at least check on them—see if they made it through the night okay.”

She decided she’d better get his mind off that idea before he started dwelling on it. “Tell me about how you managed to arrange this excursion. Most tourists either pay for it with some kind of research grant or they’re filthy-rich adrenaline junkies. The three of you seem different.”

“I share an apartment with Lenny and Xavier back in Columbia—South Carolina, not the country. We’re all in biology degree programs at USC, so we have that in common. We were drinking one night, and Lenny suggested this idea for my dissertation. I knew it was crazy, but later I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And things gradually fell into place. Xavier liked the idea and wanted to come, which was fortunate because his family owns a chain of New York bookstores called Middle Earth Books. Have you heard of them?”

She shook her head. She was already losing interest in his story, but at least he was thinking of other things now.

“So Xavier approached his dad about—”

Infinity grabbed his leg to shut him up. She had seen movement below.

“What?” he whispered.

She pointed, slowly. Something was coming. As it drew nearer, she saw that it was one of the bird men. A smaller two-legged creature walked just ahead of it, straining against a rope leash. It was leading the bird man directly to their tree.

The tourist whispered in her ear. “You’ve got to be kidding. They have pets?”

The pair stopped directly below, and the smaller one sniffed at the base of the tree. The bird man gazed up, trying to spot them.

A chittering rattle suddenly erupted above the humans’ heads. Infinity glanced up. The same damn feathered squirrel from the previous day clung to a limb a few yards above, scolding them with an alarmingly loud call. Perfect.

Desmond waved his arm at the creature, trying to shoo it away.

A shrill whistle came from below. The bird man had spotted them and was calling to the others. It whistled again, even louder.

“What do we do now?” the tourist hissed.

There was only one clear choice. “Climb down!” she said, rolling to the side and clutching another limb. “I’ll take this one out. We’ll run before the others get here.” She twisted sideways, and the fire in her hip nearly caused her to fall. She gritted her teeth and tried to ignore the pain. She started climbing down.

The bird man whistled again and again, aware of what they were trying to do. Infinity assumed it was also preparing its weapon, but she was too busy negotiating the tree limbs to keep an eye on it.

“Infinity, it’s too late!”

She paused and looked. Another had arrived, and she glimpsed several more running through the forest. By the time she got to the ground, there would be too many. “Go back up!” she urged as she started climbing. They needed to get out of range of the crossbows.

They climbed until they were at least sixty feet from the ground and could go no higher. At least ten bird men were now standing below, each with its own tracking animal. They stood in a cluster, looking up and chattering to each other. Infinity was pretty sure she and Desmond had climbed beyond the effective range of the primitive crossbows, but the creatures might still try to climb partway up and shoot them. She and the tourist could possibly fight them off if they tried climbing all the way up to drag them down. But not indefinitely. Again, she realized she had chosen a terrible hiding place. Their only hope was to sit tight and try to hold them off until they gave up or until bridge-back. At this point it seemed unlikely they would give up any time soon.

The bird men continued talking for several minutes. Infinity was constantly adjusting her weight, trying to find relief for her hip. Abruptly, the squawks and whistles stopped. The creatures gathered around the base of the tree. Their heads began moving, and Infinity could hear sounds of scratching and crunching.

“What the hell!” the tourist said. “They’re chewing on the tree.”

He was right. The bird men were biting the tree and tossing aside chunks of the soft, green bark. Infinity watched, not wanting to believe what she was seeing. Within a few minutes, they were through the soft outer layer, and the sounds of their gnawing beaks became louder and more frantic. Based on the size of the chunks they were now tossing aside, progress was slower. But they were still making progress.

She cursed silently and looked around for any possible escape. Other trees were growing near this one, but not near enough to climb from one to the next.

The tourist said, “If we’re this high when the tree falls, we’ll be killed. Or we’ll be knocked to the ground when it hits one of the other trees. We have to move lower. Or we can just surrender.”

“Not much of a choice,” she said.

“I honestly don’t think they’re planning to eat us. There are plenty of game animals around, and these guys make excellent traps for them. Why would they go to this much trouble?”

“Doesn’t mean they won’t kill us.”

“Well, we’re about to find out.”

She sighed and shook her head. After thinking for a few seconds, she said, “Okay, I’m going down. Stay here. Maybe I’ll be enough to satisfy them. If so, stay in this tree until bridge-back.” She lowered herself painfully to the limb below and began her descent.

The creatures stopped chewing on the tree when they realized what she was doing. With their tracking animals beside them, they stood in a circle, waiting.

Infinity was still considering the possibility of fighting when she stepped to the ground. But when she turned to face the bird men, she realized it would be useless at best and suicide at worst. There were too many of them. And their leashed animals, although smaller than their masters, looked just as formidable.

Despite being fully aware it had done her no good the day before, she spoke softly. “I’m not here to hurt you. Please don’t hurt me.”

Several of them held their crossbows in front of them with both hands, ready to pull back the strings with their beaks. Three of them stepped forward, holding out loops of rope, obviously intending to lasso her.

She almost dropped to her knees to allow them to rope her more easily. But then it occurred to her that if she made them work for it, they might decide the tourist wasn’t worth the effort.

They stepped closer, readying their ropes. Their round, unblinking eyes darted up and down her body, as if they weren’t sure which part of her would prove to be most dangerous.

Infinity looked at the creature approaching on her left and spoke directly to it. “I killed your buddy. I’m going to kill you, too.” Then she took a step to the side and threw a roundhouse kick to the bird directly in front of her, catching it off guard. Her foot connected, but the pain in her hip made her double over. Before she could straighten up, the creatures were all over her, and she collapsed under their weight.

Beaks clamped onto her wrists and ankles, but only hard enough to prevent her from flailing. Meaty, prehensile tongues explored her skin, tasting or perhaps feeling her.

“Infinity!”

“Shut up!” she shouted, her face being pressed into the dead leaves and soil. “Stay where you are!”

The creatures deftly tied lengths of rope around her arms and legs, immobilizing her. The bird men then dragged her face down until she was several yards away from the tree. She managed to turn her head to see what they’d do next. They squawked for a few moments, looking up at the tourist. And then, except for two of them that stayed at her side, they went right back to work tearing the trunk apart one bite at a time.

At the edge of her field of vision, Infinity saw the tourist making his way to the ground. The bird men again stopped their assault on the tree and waited. As soon as his feet hit the ground they were on him, holding him down and binding his feet and hands. They dragged him over and roughly dropped him next to her.

Infinity grunted and rolled onto her back. The creatures and their tracking animals stood over them, taking in every detail. One of the bird men let out a long sequence of squawks and chitters.

Suddenly, the tourist opened his mouth and mimicked the series of shrill sounds. The sounds were created by a human mouth, so they certainly weren’t exact, but they definitely were similar, and in the same sequence. The bird men went completely still. Infinity turned and stared at Desmond. He had managed to surprise her again.

After several long seconds of silence, the creature the tourist had mimicked took a step closer. It spoke again, a different sequence of bird squawks.

The tourist repeated the sequence, doing a decent job of mimicking every sound except the highest screeches.

11

Curiosity

Twelve tracking animals and twelve bird men stared down at Desmond, the latter obviously startled by his attempt to mimic their language. This was good. He had hoped it would make them curious rather than murderous.

The individual that had talked directly to him spoke again, and Desmond again did his best to repeat the sounds. His ability to recall long sequences of information, which was normally of little practical value, was serving him well at this moment. The creatures gathered around closer, and some of them leaned down to gaze at Desmond’s face. For the first time, he took note of the finer details of their appearance. Their overall structure was somewhere between a large flightless bird, like an emu, and a theropod dinosaur, like a velociraptor. The bird men stood about five feet tall, although their necks made up at least twelve inches of that height. Their heads were approximately the size of a human head. Round, two-inch eyes capable of gazing straight forward for 3D vision sat near the top of the skull. They had almost no forehead, so their brains, which were obviously well developed, must have been arranged directly behind their faces, near the back of the skull. Their tan-colored beaks, although smaller than those of the predators Desmond had seen yesterday, were about five inches in both height and length, and had already proven to be formidable. A brown coat of fine feathers covered their entire bodies except for their three-fingered hands and three-toed feet. Their hands, half the size of Desmond’s, included two fingers and an opposable thumb, with no visible claws or fingernails. They wore no ornamentation or decorative markings other than lengths of rope and various tools and weapons looped around their necks.

The tracking animals were no more than three feet tall, appearing to be smaller versions of the predators that had attacked Desmond’s group minutes after they’d bridged. The trackers’ predator-like beaks were proportionally larger than those of their masters. But their overall anatomy was similar: brown coat of feathers, round eyes, three toes, and three fingers, although their toes and fingers ended in black, inch-long claws, obviously better suited to tearing flesh than using tools.

Desmond glanced over at Infinity. She had several new cuts on her arms and legs but otherwise seemed okay. She was staring at him, perhaps trying to decide if he’d gone mad.

Before he could say anything to her, one of the bird men grabbed the ropes on Desmond’s ankles and dragged him a few yards. Two others took the ends of ropes that were draped around their necks and tied them to his ankle ropes. They did the same to Infinity’s. All of the creatures then turned and walked down the hillside, roughly dragging Desmond and Infinity behind them.

Desmond was able to twist his body several times to avoid being dragged over jagged rocks, but the friction of the bare ground against his skin was already taking a toll. He heard Infinity grunting in pain as she tried to maneuver herself to avoid the worst of the rocks.

When they arrived at the narrow stream at the bottom of the ravine, the creatures dragged Desmond and Infinity into the water and stopped. Several of them stooped over and used their hands to scoop water onto the humans’ skin and wipe off the layers of mud. When they revealed the bird tattoo on Infinity’s chest, the creatures began another round of staring and talking, as if they were trying to decide exactly what to make of it. The bird men then took turns leaning in to poke and caress the humans’ skin, ears, and toes, as well as most of their other parts.

“Be cooperative,” Infinity said. “Don’t do anything to make them think it’s not worth the trouble to keep you alive. Your only goal now is to live until bridge-back. If they plan to kill us, we have to find ways to stall them.”

“I think they’re curious about us,” Desmond said. “They have no idea what we are.”

“Then continue to be interesting. Mimicking their speech was good.”

Desmond realized the creatures were listening to them talk. Every minute the bird men continued to be curious was one minute closer to bridge-back. “That sounded almost like a compliment,” he said, and then he forced himself to laugh out loud. He started with a deep guffaw and ended with a high twitter, sounding completely ridiculous the entire time.

Infinity stared at him. “Are you losing it, tourist?”

“I’m trying to be interesting. They seem fascinated by our voices.”

Infinity remained silent for a moment. Suddenly she began chanting, “Hey ho, let’s go. Hey ho, let’s go. They’re forming in a straight line. They’re going through a tight wind.”

Desmond blinked at her. And then he realized she was singing—or at least trying to “Blitzkrieg Bop” by the Ramones. The bird men watched silently as she continued through the song. Finally she ended with one last, “Hey ho, let’s go.”

The entire group of creatures continued staring for several seconds. The individual who had spoken to them first—perhaps the leader—emitted a complex series of birdcalls. Several of the others came forward, removed the ropes they’d used to drag the humans down the hill, and tied them around Desmond’s and Infinity’s necks. Then they removed the restraints from the humans’ ankles and handed them to a bird man whose purpose seemed to be carrying heavy coils of rope.

They forced Desmond and Infinity to get to their feet. And then the bird men began making their way up the next hill, pulling the prisoners behind them.

* * *

After what must have been at least an hour of walking, Desmond began to worry about Infinity. Every step was causing her to grunt, and he could scarcely imagine the pain she was enduring. If she lost consciousness, would the bird men kill her on the spot?

“Wherever we’re going, it can’t be much farther,” he said. “If you need me to, I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”

She glanced over at him and shook her head but didn’t reply.

“They must intend to keep us alive,” he said, although he had already decided this was a false hope. If they were being taken somewhere to be butchered and eaten, the bird men would probably rather make them walk than carry their bodies. Also, the longer they were kept alive, the fresher their flesh would be.

Desmond studied the beak of the nearest bird man. It didn’t have the look of a predator’s beak. It was obviously powerful, but the biting edges lacked serrations. These creatures were either herbivores or omnivores. This was only mildly comforting, considering humans were omnivores and ate plenty of meat.

Desmond noticed they were now walking on a well-worn path, and soon the path was running parallel to a river. It could have been the same river that ran beneath the cave where Lenny and Xavier were hiding miles away, but if so then here it was wider and deeper. They were still walking through dense forest, but the area across the river opened into a wide, treeless meadow. Several bird men were scattered around the meadow, and Desmond realized it was an agricultural field, planted with waist-high stalks with green bulges at their tips. The bird men were farmers.

One of the bird men leading the humans screeched. This was answered by a similar call from somewhere ahead. Apparently they were approaching their destination. This perhaps meant that rest was within sight for Infinity, but more likely their situation was about to worsen.

Desmond saw an open area ahead, and as they approached it several small creatures in the trees began screeching at them. The bird men ignored this clatter as if they had expected it. Finally, the path opened into a wide, flat riverbank of copper-colored gravel. The river ran along one edge of the gravel, and fifty yards from the water was a vertical cliff face, even taller than the one where they’d left Lenny and Xavier. The cliff extended upstream along the river for at least a quarter mile.

Most striking about the entire scene was that it proved the bird men were far more sophisticated than Desmond had previously guessed. Numerous circular openings to dwellings had been carved into the vertical cliff face, accessible by ladders made of wood and rope, and with rope loops spaced regularly from bottom to top. Dozens of bird people were scattered about on the gravel riverbank working on various tasks. When they noticed the humans, they stopped what they were doing and approached to take a closer look. Several smaller carnivorous pets—the same type as the tracking animals—were milling about. The small, noisy creatures that had fussed at them from the trees came scampering across the gravel, emitting their shrill calls. At the far end of the gravel bar, a massive creature—almost the size of an elephant but on two legs—was dragging a boulder from the cliff face. The creature wore an elaborate rope harness, and two bird men were leading it with leashes.

Bird men surrounded the humans as their captors stopped. Numerous conversations took place at once, sounding like a bird house at a zoo. Desmond and Infinity were prodded and touched all over again, and the creatures pointed at Infinity’s bird tattoo as they cackled. Some of the creatures even grabbed them gently with their beaks, tasting their skin with finger-like tongues. This went on for several long minutes.

Two bird men pushed through the onlookers. They each carried a bowl that appeared to have been carved or chewed from solid wood. They both placed the bowls on the ground. One contained water, the other a pile of some kind of seeds or fruit, looking like golf balls covered in green velvet. The bird men used their toes to push the bowls closer to Desmond and Infinity, making it clear they were offering the contents.

“Don’t eat the food,” Infinity said. “If it’s toxic, it could kill you in minutes. But we should drink the water. To keep them happy.”

Desmond’s arms were tightly bound above the wrists, but he could grasp the bowl and raise it to his mouth. Although speckled with sediment, the water was cool, and he drank it desperately, realizing suddenly how much he needed it. He forced himself to quit when half of it was gone and handed it to Infinity. She finished it off.

One of the bird men nudged the food bowl closer with its toe. Desmond and Infinity ignored it, prompting a round of squawks, whistles, and clicks.

Having apparently come to a consensus, the entire group of bird men and their pets began walking, leaving the bowls behind and pulling Desmond and Infinity with them. They walked upstream along the gravel bar, passing numerous dark openings carved into the cliff, each with a ladder of rope loops and wooden rungs hanging from it. The lower openings were fifteen feet above the gravel bar, probably due to occasional river flooding. Or perhaps as protection from predators.

About halfway between the downstream and upstream ends of the cliff face, Desmond saw a group of five openings that were rectangular instead of circular. Beyond these five were more of the circular openings. The group approached the cluster of rectangular openings and came to a rest directly below them. Everyone grew quiet, as if waiting.

They didn’t have to wait long. Dark shapes emerged from three of the rectangular holes almost immediately.

Desmond glanced over at Infinity.

“Remember, be interesting,” she said.

The emerging creatures were clearly of a different species. Black feathers, rather than brown, covered their bodies. And they had black beaks, unlike the tan beaks of the brown bird men.

The black birds began descending the ladders, and Desmond realized the rope loops were there to provide a grip for their beaks. Again, he thought of parrots climbing about their cages.

Once they were on the ground, Desmond could see that the black birds were at least as tall as he was, about a foot taller than the brown bird men. But the most remarkable aspect of their appearance was that they were each adorned with dozens of elaborately-beaded cords. They wore them around their necks, chests, arms, and legs. Each cord was strung with objects of alternating colors and shapes: rocks, mollusk shells, insect parts, and other things that were difficult to identify. Against the birds’ black feathers, these cords were striking, even beautiful.

The brown bird men and their pets moved aside as the black birds approached and stopped before Desmond and Infinity. Like the others, they had three fingers and three toes. Unlike the brown irises of the smaller birds’ eyes, these creatures’ irises were black, making it difficult to tell exactly what they were looking at.

One of them spoke. Its squawks and chirps were deeper than those of the smaller bird people. But apparently the language was the same, because several of the brown birds replied at once. The brown birds went on for minutes, perhaps explaining the circumstances of encountering and catching the humans. As the black birds listened, they stepped forward and began feeling, tasting, and probing.

Finally, one of the black birds interrupted the extensive explanation with a series of cackles and whistles. Seconds later, a brown bird came forward with a weapon. It was a four-foot stick two inches in diameter, with a sharpened stone spearhead attached at each end—a short, double-tipped spear.

This was it, Desmond realized. He and Infinity were about to be killed. He had to recapture their interest. He looked directly at the black bird who had given the order and repeated its last sequence, doing his best to approximate each of the unique sounds.

The three black birds gazed at him. The one he had mimicked gave another order. Several brown birds stepped in and removed all the ropes from the humans’ necks and arms. Another brown bird came forward with a second double-tipped spear and handed it to Desmond. The crowd backed up except for the brown bird holding the other weapon, forming a wide circle with Desmond, Infinity, and the armed bird in the center.

“This doesn’t look good,” Infinity said. “Give me that weapon.”

As she spoke, the bird man thrust his spear at Desmond just hard enough to put a small puncture in his thigh.

Desmond slapped his hand over the wound. “That hurt!”

The bird creature held its spear up menacingly.

“They want us to fight,” Infinity said. “Give me the damn weapon.”

“You’re already hurt. You’re in no—”

She snatched the spear from him. Without hesitating, she rushed at the armed bird man. At the last moment she crouched down, and with her left hand on the ground she swung her right leg in an arc from the side, knocking the bird’s feet from under it. Infinity was already fully erect again by the time the creature thumped onto the ground, and she drove one of the stone tips into its body. In the next three seconds she drove the tip in another five times.

She backed off from the dying creature and turned in a full circle, holding the weapon ready for an almost-certain attack from the other bird men.

12

Students

Infinity felt like she might pass out. Her drop-sweep had taken the creature down, but it had hurt like hell. Chances were, though, she’d be killed soon and wouldn’t have to endure much more. It’s obvious the bird men had wanted to watch a fight. Infinity saw only two possible consequences of her quick disposal of their companion: they would become angry and kill her, or they would pit her against another opponent. And another after that. Until she lost. Based on the fact that the bird people were now standing around chattering, the second possibility seemed more likely.

At this point, her goal was to keep the creatures’ anger aimed at her rather than at the tourist.

She held her double-tipped weapon ready while the creatures talked, turning frequently in case they tried attacking from behind. Finally, one of the brown birds approached her, unarmed. It extended one hand, all three fingers outstretched, and waited.

She glared at it. “What do you want?”

“He wants you to give him the spear,” the tourist said.

The creature curled and straightened its fingers twice, apparently a universal gesture telling her to hand it over.

She sighed and gave the weapon to the bird man, remaining alert in case the creature turned it on her. A second brown bird picked up the weapon next to the creature she’d killed. The two birds brandished the spears at her and Desmond. But instead of attacking, they simply stepped forward and prodded them with the weapons until they started walking.

The crowd parted, allowing Infinity and the tourist to be herded toward the cliff face. The entire pack of creatures followed, forming a semicircle to keep the prisoners from running away. The crowd stopped in front of a fifteen-foot ladder, hanging to the ground from the lowest of the five rectangular cave openings. It was clear the humans were expected to climb the ladder.

“Go on,” she said to the tourist. She wasn’t going to leave him undefended while she climbed.

The ladder, which had rope loops beside each wooden rung, was made for bird men, not for humans. But the tourist quickly figured it out and climbed to the cave. She followed him up, trying to ignore the grinding agony in her hip.

Once they were at the mouth of the cave, there was nowhere to go but inside. It opened into a single oval chamber about thirty feet deep, with surprisingly smooth walls. The chamber was empty except for a pile of ashes in the center. Apparently these creatures knew how to use fire.

Four of the smaller brown birds had followed them up the ladder, including the two with weapons. The creatures herded them to the back wall of the chamber and then stood squawking to each other.

The tourist sat on the floor and leaned against the rounded wall. “So, what now?”

She groaned and carefully lowered herself beside him. A decent amount of light was coming from the cave’s opening, so she inspected the arrow wound on the front of her hip. The mud plug was still in place, but the entire area was swollen. “No idea. But every delay gets us closer to bridge-back.”

The four bird men had stopped squawking to watch them talk.

Desmond sighed and leaned his head back against the rock wall. “I guess there’s not much chance we can escape.”

“Not much.”

“I wish we could get back to Lenny and Xavier.”

“Not going to happen.”

He turned to look at her. “You’re a real glass-half-empty person, aren’t you?”

“I’m here to keep you alive, not to be an optimist.”

“Well, you have accomplished that. So far.” He was silent for a few seconds. “They didn’t seem too upset when you killed one of their kind. I can’t figure these guys out. And what’s up with all the biodiversity? If you count the yappy little squirrels and the big draft animal, at least five different species are coexisting here.”

“That’s your department.”

“Aren’t you curious about it? You bridge to all these amazing worlds, and you’ve seen things most people couldn’t imagine. Have you really become jaded to it all?”

She gazed at him, and for a moment she imagined how nice it would be if she were with him again at the picnic table on the SafeTrek grounds. Or in a quiet restaurant. Or any other place where they weren’t about to be slaughtered by bird men. She was actually starting to like it when he talked to her, which was worlds away from how she felt about most tourists. Suddenly she realized these were useless thoughts, a waste of the few minutes that might remain of her life. Besides, this tourist’s existence to this point had been so different from hers that, beyond their current shared interest in staying alive, they would never have much in common worth talking about.

“It’s a job,” she said. “Each excursion is a good paycheck, especially if the tourists bridge back in one piece.”

“Well, you deserve a bonus for this one.”

She decided not to tell him about getting paid double, or about the waiver on penalties for the previous tourist’s injuries. Too bad she probably wouldn’t live to collect. Her parents would get her salary for five years. Infinity hadn’t seen them since she was fourteen, and now she didn’t know if they were even alive. If they couldn’t be found, the money would go to The Scrapyard, her old training club. The place helped kids who were living on the streets to direct their anger into something productive. It had saved her life—for all that was worth now.

A black bird’s head appeared at the ladder. Seconds later it came on up and stood upright in the cave opening. Soon another creature ascended and then stood beside the first. This one, however, was only half the other bird’s height. At first Infinity thought it was one of the tracking animals, but it had the same decorative bands, black feathers, and black beak as the larger bird.

“It’s a juvenile,” the tourist said. “A kid.”

Another small one appeared, and then another. They kept coming until about twenty were standing in a semicircle around the two humans. Only a third of them were black. The rest were brown with tan beaks.

The adult black bird began squawking and clicking. It continued for several minutes. When it stopped, the kids stepped closer to Infinity and Desmond. The brown adults with spears raised their weapons, threatening to use them if the humans tried anything. The kids leaned in and touched the humans’ skin, rubbing their tiny fingers over them and chittering to each other.

And then the kids were ordered back to the ladder, and they all climbed down, followed by the black adult. The lesson—or whatever it had been—was over.

“This just keeps getting weirder,” the tourist said.

“Every minute helps.”

A screech came from the ground below. Abruptly, the four brown guards forced Infinity and Desmond to their feet and over to the ladder. They all descended to the gravel bar, and the guards led them to the spot where Infinity had killed the bird man. The creature’s body was gone, and a heavy boulder had been dragged to the spot where it had died. A thick-legged, elephant-sized beast like the one they’d seen earlier stood nearby, adorned with a rope harness, which explained how the massive rock had been moved.

The bird people quickly gathered around again, as if something important were about to happen. This time the young brown and black birds were part of the crowd. Infinity had a sickening feeling the kids had been brought here to witness something unpleasant.

A pair of brown birds emerged from the crowd, each of them wielding one of the two-tipped weapons, apparently ready to fight.

“Here we go again,” the tourist said.

“You stay to the side. I’ll handle this.” She watched the armed creatures, trying to come up with a strategy to surprise them both.

The armed bird men didn’t advance. Instead, they waited while a black bird came forward, went to the boulder, and pushed aside some of the gravel beneath it. This exposed the stone tip of another spear. The bird men had buried it beneath several inches of gravel and then dragged the boulder over it, pinning it beneath the ground. Another black bird appeared, dragging a short, thick log with one hand and carrying a long wooden pole in the other. It dropped both of these items, and then both black birds backed away.

The armed brown birds immediately lunged at Infinity, thrusting their weapons but pulling them back before touching her.

“It’s a test.” The tourist said. “They’re trying to figure out how smart we are.”

One of the brown birds circled to Infinity’s side, brandishing its spear.

“No shit,” she said. She considered simply grabbing the long pole and taking out the two armed birds with it, forgoing the damn puzzle. But she had a gut feeling that wouldn’t help the tourist survive until bridge-back. “I’ll keep these two busy,” she said. “You get me that weapon.” From the corner of her eye, she saw the tourist kick the log closer to the boulder and then grab the wooden pole. The two brown birds still hadn’t attacked, and Infinity wondered if they were there only to force her and the tourist to solve the idiotic puzzle.

“I need help!” The tourist had wedged the end of the pole under the boulder and over the log. He was now practically hanging from the other end of the pole, but this was barely moving the boulder.

Keeping her eye on the two birds, she went to the pole and helped pull it down, prying the edge of the boulder off the ground. It took both of them to hold the boulder up, so neither of them could release the pole to retrieve the weapon.

“Let it down,” Desmond said. “We pushed it back a little. We’ll just keep doing it until it’s off the spear.”

The two birds could easily have attacked at this moment, but they remained in place—more evidence that their purpose was simply to provide incentive.

The humans pried the boulder up again, moving it a few more inches. The armed birds moved in closer and hovered behind them menacingly. Infinity and the tourist pried the boulder a third time, and then a fourth. The spear was now exposed, so they lowered the rock and Infinity rushed to the weapon and pulled it from the gravel.

She stepped away from the boulder and raised the spear over her head. “Is this what you wanted to see, dumbasses?”

The two armed birds charged. She swiped at one of their spears, knocking it off course, but the other caught her shoulder, tearing open the flesh. Why were they attacking now? This whole scenario made no sense. “Call them off!” she cried. “We figured out your stupid puzzle.”

“Look out!” Desmond shouted.

The two birds were coming at her again, but this time one was behind the other. She blocked the leading bird’s weapon and buried the tip of her own in the creature’s side. The bird went down immediately and began writhing. Her weapon was firmly embedded, so she grabbed the fallen bird’s spear to face the second attacker.

An ear-splitting screech stopped the oncoming bird. A black bird emerged from the crowd, pulled the weapon from the injured brown bird, rolled the bird over with one foot, and then ran the weapon through its back. It immediately stopped moving. The other brown bird lowered its weapon and backed away.

The black bird took a few steps toward Infinity. She readied her weapon, preparing for a more serious attack. But the black bird stopped, extended a hand, and curled its fingers twice.

Infinity didn’t offer her weapon. “I’ve had enough of this game. Why don’t you take it from me?”

“Infinity, every minute counts. Don’t fight until you have to.”

She glanced at him. The damn tourist was right. Slowly, she stood up straight and handed over the weapon.

* * *

Several minutes later they were back in the chamber carved into the cliff face. A group of brown birds appeared and offered another bowl of water, and the humans both drank. The creatures also offered a bowl of food, this time containing what looked like raw meat. Again, Infinity told the tourist to refuse it.

The tourist stared at the bowl of glistening flesh. “Why do I get the impression this meat is from one of the two bird men you’ve killed since we arrived?”

“I killed one. They killed the other one themselves.” This fact was disturbing to Infinity. Not because it was necessarily bad news, but because it had been unexpected. She hated unpredictable adversaries. Most humans—except for the truly psychotic—were predictable and therefore could be defeated. But these bird creatures didn’t think anything like humans.

The tourist said, “The larger black birds don’t seem to care about the lives of the brown ones. Maybe the brown ones are slaves and are considered disposable.”

“Slaves aren’t disposable. I’d think they’d usually be in short supply, and they require feeding and training.”

“Valid point. Also, most of the young ones they brought to observe us were brown. It doesn’t seem likely that slave children would be educated alongside the children of the masters.”

Infinity glanced up at the four brown birds assigned as guards. “Listen, tourist. Before, I said we needed to keep them interested in us. Well, they are, and maybe that’s why we’re still alive. But I doubt they’re finished testing us. If whatever comes next involves fighting or killing more of them, that’s my job. I don’t know what they want from us, but I do know that if they’re going to hate one of us for killing their fighters, it should be me.”

He sighed. “I know, to maximize my chances of living to bridge-back. I get it. But also consider that they might gain respect for you with every bird man you kill. And if I just sit on the sidelines, where does that leave me?” He looked at her in a way that almost made her break her gaze. “But here’s the deal,” he said. “We’ve been through a lot together, and I’m getting kind of attached to you. Maybe you’re a bridger, but you’re also a human being. It’s bad enough that Razor is dead. I don’t care to live the rest of my life knowing you also died trying to save my sorry ass. Why should your life be worth less than mine?”

She looked away for a moment and then turned back to face him. “You need to let me do my job, tourist,” she said firmly.

“I’d rather you call me Desmond. You bridgers use tourist like it’s derogatory.”

A screech came from outside the chamber. The four guards prodded them to get up and move to the opening.

“Okay, Desmond,” she said. “Let me do my job, and maybe we’ll both live to bridge-back.”

* * *

Infinity had been right, the birds intended to test them again. And the young birds—the students—were front and center in the audience. High above, a rope had been suspended from the top of the cliff. Two of the short, double-tipped spears had been tied to the end of the rope about twenty feet above the gravel bar. The crowd formed a circle around the humans, and several black birds came forward and dropped some materials on the ground: three poles, each about ten feet long, a coiled length of thin rope, a pile of short sticks, and a jagged-edged rock.

“It’s another ridiculously-simple puzzle,” Desmond said. “Maybe they think we got lucky before. They can’t quite believe we’re actually intelligent.”

Infinity gazed up at the hanging spears. “Or maybe this is the most complicated puzzle their little bird brains can come up with.”

The crowd became quiet, watching and waiting. Infinity gazed around at them until she saw what she was expecting—the spear-wielding birds who would force them to solve the puzzle. But this time there were three of them. They came forward, ready to attack.

So far these creatures hadn’t shown any great level of skill with their weapons, and there was a decent chance she could disarm one of them and kill all three. But what good would that do? The birds could be replaced by more, and still she and the tourist would be forced to solve the damn puzzle.

She glanced at the tourist while also trying to keep an eye on the armed bird men. Desmond had already picked up the coiled rope and was staring at the other materials.

Desmond said, “We can’t make a ladder with what we have here, but we can tie the three poles end-to-end to make one long pole. Then we can lean it against the cliff, and I can shinny up it and untie the spears.”

Infinity grabbed one of the ten-foot poles and placed it next to another with two feet of overlap. “This is a chance to gain time. Don’t rush it.”

He nodded. “Got it.” He then began slowly wrapping the rope around the overlapping poles.

After about ten loops, they worked together to pull the rope tight and knot it. Then they overlapped the third pole with the second. The coil of rope was one long strand, so they had to trail it about seven feet from the first knot to the juncture of the second and third poles. But this didn’t leave enough rope to wrap the poles adequately.

Infinity got off her knees and stood straight up to relieve the pain in her hip. She glared at the three armed birds. She was getting sick of being forced to perform tricks. The birds, sensing she was becoming defiant, stepped forward and held the stone tips of their weapons in her face.

“Take this,” the tourist said. He held out the jagged rock the birds had provided. She took it from him, and he grabbed the rope and held it against the gravel. “Cut right there.”

Aware that three spears were inches from the back of her head, she struck the rope repeatedly with the rock’s edge until it was severed. The tourist took the loose end, moved to the third pole, and began wrapping.

But then he paused. “This may not work.” He unwrapped the third pole, got up, and hoisted the first two attached poles until they were vertical. He leaned the entire thing against the rock face. It was still six feet shy of the two hanging weapons, but he spit on his hands, rubbed them together, and started climbing. Infinity stepped up and held the pole steady, to prevent it from falling to the left or right. When he had ascended past the joint between the two poles, the top pole started slipping through the knotted loops. The rope wasn’t tight enough. He dropped to the ground and stared at the poles. “Well, that didn’t work. This is going to take longer than I thought. Fortunately for us, I guess.”

A wave of chatter worked its way around the onlooking crowd. Suddenly, the exit wound on Infinity’s hip exploded with fiery pain, so intense that she cried out and fell to her knees. She knew she was in danger, but for several seconds she couldn’t even focus her eyes.

“Get away from her!” The tourist was standing over her but throbbing static in her ears made his voice sound distant.

She shook her head and bit her lip, trying to get through the worst of it.

“Infinity, are you okay?”

As the seconds passed, the pain began to recede. She reached back and touched the arrow’s exit wound. Her hand came away red with blood. One of the birds had snuck up on her and shoved its spear directly into the wound. At the very least, the mud plug had been dislodged. She looked up at the armed birds. They stood there, weapons ready. Blood covered the spear tip of the one nearest her. Even if she did nothing else, she would kill that bastard.

“Infinity?”

“I’m still here,” she said. “I don’t think we’re solving the puzzle fast enough for them. I’m going to stay down—make them believe I’m too hurt to get up. Get me those goddamn spears! Retie the ropes around the poles loosely, and then use a stick to cinch it so tight it won’t slip.”

“I’m on it.” He rushed to the poles and got to work.

Infinity’s pain was subsiding, but it was replaced by waves of nausea. She groaned and focused on getting it under control.

The bird with the bloody spearhead began moving toward her again. She tracked its movements from the corner of her eye without raising her head. When the creature was only a few feet away, it let out several soft murmurs, sounding almost like a lamb. It slowly raised its spear tip and moved it toward Infinity’s throbbing wound, like it was taunting her—threatening her with more pain.

As she watched the roughly-carved stone spearhead inch its way closer, she briefly considered the consequences of giving in to her anger. The tourist—Desmond—had to survive until bridge-back. It was becoming increasingly likely that she wouldn’t make it, but he had to. She’d never lost a tourist before, and she wasn’t going to now. Not this tourist.

The spear tip was inches from her wound, and she saw the bird’s arm muscles tense up to thrust it in.

She swung her arm, knocking the weapon’s tip upward, and dove for the bird’s feet. She then tucked herself into a somersault, her legs knocking the bird onto its back. She continued her roll until she was sitting on the creature’s abdomen. It flailed its hands, still holding the spear, but the weapon was too long for close-quarters fighting. Infinity ignored the spear and pinned the bird’s neck to the gravel with her left hand. She immediately started throwing jabs at the bird’s head with her right fist, aiming for the closest of its two eyes and twisting her chest to put as much power into each blow as she could.

She had always had a habit of silently counting off the blows whenever she used this attack. This time she reached sixteen before realizing the bird was no longer struggling. She grabbed the bird’s weapon and leapt to her feet, grunting from the pain.

The other two armed birds hadn’t attacked. Without any attempt to interfere, they had watched their companion get beaten to a pulp. Infinity was alive because of their indifference, but she didn’t understand it. Their behavior made no sense.

Desmond stood up. He had finished tying the poles together and cinching the ropes tight. He seemed to notice for the first time that Infinity was now holding a weapon. “Um, I was going to say this is ready, but I guess we don’t need the spears now?”

“I have no idea what we’re supposed to do.”

The two remaining armed birds moved toward Desmond.

Infinity stepped into their path, cutting them off. The birds stopped advancing and stood there holding their spears out menacingly. “Apparently they’re not going to quit until we get those weapons.” Keeping an eye on the two birds, she used her free hand to help him lift the three-section pole and lean it against the rock. The end of it was now several feet higher than the dangling spears.

Desmond tried swinging the pole back and forth to knock the spears loose, but the pole was heavy and unwieldy, and the spears were apparently tied securely.

“You’re going to have to climb,” Infinity said. She held the pole steady with her free hand, still watching the armed birds.

He shinnied up the pole surprisingly fast for a man with no clothing over his groin. When he got to the top, he wrapped his legs around the pole to hold himself in place and untied the spears, letting them fall. Infinity snatched them up, and he slid down most of the way and then dropped to the ground beside her.

Another flurry of conversation ran through the onlooking birds. A black bird came forward and held a hand out to Infinity for her to give up the weapons.

She shook her head and handed them over. “What, you’re not going to make us kill another of your buddies?”

The moment the bird took the spears, three unarmed brown birds rushed Infinity. Before she could react, they had grabbed her arms and ankles with their hands and beaks, knocking her to the ground. She tried to struggle, but the birds’ beaks were clamped down so hard they threatened to snap her bones. She looked over at Desmond. He had been forced back against the rock wall by the two armed brown birds.

“Don’t do anything aggressive unless they actually try to kill you!” she shouted. “When that happens, scream at them like a maniac and then break through the crowd and run. Run like hell!”

He stared at the spear tips held inches from his chest. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can and you will!”

The black bird walked to Desmond, handed him one of the spears, and moved back into the crowd of onlookers.

Desmond’s eyes were wide. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Infinity realized what was happening. “Let me up!” She kicked and spat and growled at the birds holding her down, but they only tightened their grip. “Desmond, they’re making you fight!”

“I have no idea how to fight.”

“You’ve got no choice! Listen to my voice but don’t look at me. I’ll tell you what to do and when to do it.”

The two armed birds crouched and held their weapons ready.

13

Plans

Until recently, Desmond hadn’t had many encounters with violence in his life. Before this excursion, he had only hit one person with real intent to do harm. That had been in 6th grade, and it hadn’t ended well for Desmond. He was currently in good physical shape, but he had never taken martial arts or boxing lessons, and he hadn’t served in the military. Now he was being forced to fight for his life.

Instinctively he stepped back from the two armed bird men, but his back hit solid rock.

“Tell me you hear my voice, tourist!”

“I hear you. But I don’t see how—”

“Listen! You have two things going for you. These bastards don’t know what we’re saying, and they don’t understand how we think. You have to surprise them.”

The two birds were close, but they were waiting for him to make the first move. What would happen if he simply refused to fight? He straightened up and lowered his weapon.

The birds thrust their spears simultaneously, puncturing his left shoulder and his chest.

“Goddammit!” he cried, raising his spear again. He felt warm blood flowing over his skin, but he didn’t dare look down at his wounds.

“They could have killed you just then, but they didn’t,” Infinity said. “They want to see what you can do.”

“I can’t do anything!”

“The bird man on your right was careless. He came at you with his weapon in front of him instead of to the side. Listen up. Get him to thrust again. Then do this in one motion: release your weapon, grab his with both hands, and run at him with everything you’ve got. Keep his weapon tip to your side, not in front of you. And scream when you do it.”

Desmond realized his hands were shaking. “Oh, God. I’ll try.” He lowered his spear again.

The birds responded the same way they had the first time—they jabbed and punctured his skin. This time, he dropped his spear, grabbed the weapon that had just gouged his chest, and rushed forward, screaming uncontrollably.

He shoved the bird back several steps until it fell onto its back. Desmond raised his end of the spear and drove the other end into the creature, actually lifting his own feet off the ground as he put all his weight on the shaft.

“Don’t stop moving! Throw the weapon at the other bird, grab your own weapon, and swing it instead of thrusting. Kill the son of a bitch!”

Desmond’s adrenaline had taken over. It seemed his body was beyond his control, blindly following Infinity’s commands. He yanked the spear from the fallen bird and heaved it at the one that was still standing. Without waiting to see the result of his throw, he rushed back and snapped up his dropped spear. He ran at the standing bird, swinging the spear wildly. The bird had just finished deflecting the thrown spear and was recovering its balance when the side of Desmond’s weapon struck it’s neck. The creature lost its balance again, and Desmond swung the spear straight down on the top of its head with a solid hit.

The next few seconds were a frantic blur. Desmond swung the weapon over and over, pummeling the creature. He heard himself grunting and cursing, but it felt like someone else was using his voice to make these sounds.

Suddenly he was on his back. Tiny hands and crushing beaks held him in place. He struggled furiously to escape.

“Desmond! Stop fighting!”

Infinity’s voice pierced his feral rage. He relaxed his arms and legs. He blinked at the shapes holding him down. Brown bird men, at least four of them. And two of the larger black birds were standing over them.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “You can let go.”

Of course they couldn’t understand him. But one at a time they released him and stepped back. He sat up.

“I’m impressed, tourist.” Infinity had been released and was also sitting up.

He looked over at the second bird he’d attacked. It was dead, beyond any doubt. The first bird was still sprawled on the gravel. It was holding its wound with both hands and staring at Desmond.

One of the black birds picked up the spear Desmond had used as a deadly club. It walked over to the injured brown bird, kicked it until it rolled onto its belly, and then drove the spear through its back.

* * *

“This isn’t going to end until we’re dead, is it?” Desmond said. Once again they were back in the chamber carved out of the cliff face, with the same four guards watching them. Desmond was still trembling from the recent fight. His entire body was covered in scratches and bruises. His nose was still tender to the touch from having slammed into his knee the previous day. And now he had four new puncture wounds to add to his collection. Fortunately they weren’t terribly deep, and the bleeding had nearly stopped.

“Or until bridge-back,” Infinity said. She was pressing her hand on her newly-opened hip wound. Blood was trickling through her fingers.

“Lean over. Let me look at that.”

She leaned onto her side, and Desmond shifted his body so he wasn’t blocking the light from the cave opening. The blood flowing from the wound was speckled with bits of mud. Apparently the bird’s spear tip had shredded the leaf casing that was supposed to keep the mud contained, mashing the mud into the wound. It looked horrific.

“I think the bleeding is slowing down,” he said. “You’ll be okay.”

She rolled back to a sitting position and nodded like she was trying to convince herself he wasn’t lying. “My sense of time is starting to blur, but I think we’re well into the afternoon. If we’re lucky, bridge-back will be in three or four hours.”

Desmond stared at his fingers and tried to stop trembling. “Why did you tell me to swing the spear instead of stabbing?”

She glanced at him, frowning. “Because they wouldn’t expect it. It worked, didn’t it?”

He huffed out a nervous laugh and nodded. “I can’t believe I lived through that fight.”

“They weren’t trying to kill you.”

“Then what are they trying to do? This whole sick game is costing them lives.”

“It’s only costing the lives of the brown birds.”

He looked at her, considering this. “You think this is all for the black birds’ amusement?”

“Maybe. Or maybe for some other purpose, but the black birds are definitely running the show.”

A now-familiar screech came from the gravel bar below. As expected, the four guards prodded them to their feet.

* * *

The crowd was still gathered, including the children. Six black adults stood chattering to each other apart from the brown birds, but they joined the crowd when Desmond and Infinity arrived at the site of the recent fights. Desmond saw blood stains on the gravel, but the bodies of the dead brown birds had been removed.

A black bird approached and placed four items on the ground at the humans’ feet: a coiled length of rope, one of the short, double-tipped spears, a knife with a stone blade, and one of the weird crossbow-like weapons that had injured Infinity.

Desmond gazed at the objects. “Well, at least we don’t have to retrieve a spear this time.”

“Don’t celebrate just yet, tourist. They might make us fight each other. I had a feeling this was coming.”

His chest tightened, and he felt a wave of nausea. “I’m not going to do that.”

“No, you’re not.”

He frowned at her. What did she mean by that?

Before he could ask, the crowd abruptly parted. Two black birds stood there gazing at Desmond and Infinity, each with a double-tipped spear in one hand and three other items looped around its neck: a rope, a knife, and a crossbow. The same set of items given to the humans. And in front of each black bird a smaller tracking animal strained at its leash, shaking with excitement.

One of the black birds cackled and whistled. The crowd formed another opening on the side opposite the two armed black birds. The two bird men and their pets began moving toward the humans.

Suddenly the pieces fell together in Desmond’s mind. This was why the brown birds hadn’t killed them. It was why the black birds were so interested in what he and Infinity were capable of. The black birds wanted to pursue them—to hunt them. For entertainment, perhaps. Or for training. Or it could have even been some kind of twisted religious ritual.

Infinity gathered up the four items and handed Desmond the rope and crossbow. “This is a good thing.”

“In what way is this good?” he said as they began backing away from the approaching creatures.

“Now you don’t have to kill me.”

He shot a glance at her.

“And,” she continued, “they don’t know we’re disappearing in several hours. If they really let us run, we have a chance.”

It certainly looked like the bird people were letting them leave the village. The creatures made no attempt to interfere as they backed through the gap in the crowd. The downstream end of the vertical cliff was several hundred yards beyond the crowd, and no bird men blocked their way.

The two black birds and their pets began walking faster. They were no more than thirty yards from the humans.

Desmond looked at Infinity. Her rigid expression showed that walking was painful. “Can you run?” he asked.

“I can outrun you. But they expect us to run. So we’re swimming instead. You can swim, right?”

“What? Yes, I can—”

“Follow me and stay close.”

She took off abruptly, veering away from the cliff. Desmond followed. By the time they reached the river’s edge, the crowd had begun screeching and whistling. Desmond looped the coiled rope over his shoulder as they waded into the river. He forced himself to ignore the agony of walking on the large rocks of the river bed. When the water was waist deep, he followed Infinity’s lead and leaned forward to let the current carry him.

When they were about halfway across, perhaps twenty yards out, Desmond turned to look back. The black birds and their pets were standing at the riverbank watching them. The current was slow enough that the birds could have kept up by walking the shore, but they stayed where they were. It was probably useless to try guessing their intentions, but he was pretty sure they weren’t going to let their captives get away this easily. Still, perhaps if he and Infinity let the river carry them a mile or two, the tracking animals would fail to find where they exited the water.

“Dammit!” Infinity’s head jerked around, her arms thrashing.

Desmond noticed prickly pain on his chest and arm, and suddenly he understood. “Get out!” he cried.

Infinity was already swimming furiously for the shore opposite the bird men, but she was still holding the spear and knife, which slowed her down. Desmond was behind her and trying to keep up. The rope hanging from his shoulder and the crossbow in one hand made swimming impossible, so he resorted to walking in the chest-deep water. Every few seconds he swiped his free hand at carnivorous fish feeding on his wounds. Soon the fish were biting other parts of his body, including his groin. He gave up trying to swipe them away, and he put every ounce of effort into reaching the shore.

By the time he crawled onto the rocks, Infinity was already sitting up inspecting red bite marks, which dotted most of her body. Desmond was no better off. He had countless tiny bites, a thin trickle of blood running from each one. Two of the fish were still clamped onto the raw tissue where the bird’s weapons had punctured his chest. He angrily crushed them between his fingers as he pulled them off.

“I’d kill for a pair of shoes and some clothes,” he said. He looked across the river. The black birds were still at the water’s edge, perhaps forty yards away. They chattered to each other while gazing across at the humans. They seemed calm, as if they found the situation only mildly interesting.

Infinity moaned as she got to her feet. “They want us to run, to get a head start. But my body’s almost done. There’s no way we can lose those tracking creatures. So I have a plan, and I don’t want any crap from you. We’ll cross this field and I’ll find a place where I can ambush them. I’ve got one fight left in me. I may be able to take them both out. Regardless, I want you to be two miles away by the time they find me. With that kind of lead, you might last until bridge-back.” She nodded toward the forest on the far side of the birds’ crop field. “When we get to those trees, you’re going to take off, and I’m going to hide and wait for the bastards. Let’s go.” She turned and started walking across the birds’ crop field.

Desmond got to his feet and stood there for a moment, considering Infinity’s plan. He shook his head and caught up to her. But he remained silent. He definitely wasn’t going to leave her alone, so there was no point in arguing about it.

* * *

All Desmond could see of Infinity was her eyes, and she was still glaring at him. She was twenty yards away, against the ground and well hidden in some low brush. Desmond was hidden in the same way. It was all part of Infinity’s plan, except that Desmond wasn’t two miles away running for his life.

Once Infinity had given up on convincing Desmond to leave her, she had picked a spot with brush on both sides. They had walked through the middle of it and continued on for about fifty yards before splitting up and circling back on either side. When the tracking animals led the black birds on the scent trail between the two hiding spots, Infinity and Desmond would let them pass and then surprise them by attacking from behind. Infinity had given him the spear, keeping the knife for herself.

After having defeated the two brown birds back at the cliff, Desmond was feeling confident. He planned to swing the spear as a club, as he had done before, and after the first hit he would thrust one of the stone tips into the bird until it was dead. He had no idea if the tracking animals were dangerous, but they would probably have to kill those, too.

Now all they had to do was wait. If the black birds didn’t show up—even better.

No such luck. Desmond heard them chattering to each other before they came into view. The damn things were awfully casual about this hunt, probably due to overconfidence. Desmond was looking forward to shutting them up for good.

Just as Infinity had predicted, a few minutes later the birds passed directly between them, the tracking animals bent low against their leashes, following the scent trail. Desmond’s heart began beating faster, and his hands started shaking, his self-assurance having quickly evaporated. He’d had one lucky win against creatures that weren’t even trying to kill him. How could he have thought he was now a real fighter?

The creatures walked past, and Desmond saw movement in the brush on the opposite side of the path. Infinity was nodding at him. It was time.

She struggled to her feet and charged the black bird nearest her.

Feeling again as if his mind were disconnected from his own body, Desmond charged the other bird man at full speed. Infinity had said to be silent until he had made the first cut, but he involuntarily screamed in raw fury.

He swung his weapon at the bird’s head but it swished through the air without making contact, and he lost his balance. The bird had ducked just in time. Before Desmond knew what was happening, he was on his back. The black bird was standing over him, pressing one of the points of its spear into his throat. The bird’s tracking animal was inches from Desmond’s face, sniffing his scent but remaining eerily silent.

“Don’t try to fight!” Infinity cried. “Don’t even move—we underestimated these assholes.”

Desmond turned his head to see her. She was on her back also, the other black bird pinning her to the ground in the same way.

The two birds squawked back and forth briefly. Hoping it might help, Desmond did his best to repeat the same squawks.

The bird above him leaned closer, its unblinking black eyes studying him. It pulled the spear tip back from his throat and slowly moved it down to the middle of his chest and then to the side, the point barely touching Desmond’s skin as it moved. The tip stopped, hovering just above one of the puncture wounds he’d received earlier. The tip entered the wound, gradually pushing its way into his already tender flesh.

He tried not to struggle. “No, please don’t.”

The bird savagely raked the spear tip up toward Desmond’s shoulder, ripping through skin and muscle on the right side of his chest.

He screamed and slammed his head on the ground. He grabbed the spear, which was already pressing against his throat again.

Just then, Infinity screamed also, her cry ending with garbled curses Desmond couldn’t understand.

He turned and saw that the black bird standing over her had run its spear entirely through the arrow wound in her hip, grinding the spear’s tip into the soil beneath her. Without warning, it yanked the spear back out, and she screamed again.

With incapacitating horror, Desmond realized the birds were not only going to kill them—they were going to make them suffer. The creatures seemed fascinated with their reactions to being tormented. Perhaps it was their way of studying creatures they didn’t understand.

Desmond grabbed the bird’s spear and pulled it closer to his own throat. “Just kill me!”

“No, Desmond!” Infinity said. “Don’t you dare.”

The bird yanked the spear from his hands. It stepped back, pulling its tracking animal with it. It then pointed its spear to the forest, in the direction Desmond and Infinity had been fleeing before their failed ambush.

Desmond grunted and got to his feet. Infinity rolled over to her hands and knees but was struggling to stand up. He went over and helped her.

“They’re letting us go,” he said. “Again.”

She nodded. “Then let’s go.”

One of the black birds squawked. Desmond turned, and the creature pointed its spear toward the stone knife Infinity had dropped and then to Desmond’s spear. Desmond picked them up. The bird then gripped the crossbow and coil of rope hanging from its neck and shook them. Desmond sighed, walked to his hiding spot, and retrieved his crossbow and rope. The two birds watched calmly as he turned back to Infinity.

He put her arm over his shoulder and together they walked through the forest until they could no longer see the black birds.

“Change of plans,” Infinity said. Her uneven words indicated that every step was a battle. “We can’t fight them. They’ll beat us again. And if we live, again after that.”

“That’s not much of a plan.”

She shot him a glance, sweat running down her face. “It’s simple. You endure whatever they do to you.”

14

Creed

Heart to blood, muscle to bone, tourist flesh above my own.

With self-sacrifice near, my fuel is fear.

By bridger means and might, tourists will not fight.

There were two more lines, but Infinity couldn’t remember them. She had repeated the five principles of the Bridger’s Creed hundreds of times—maybe thousands—but at this moment she couldn’t remember the last two.

“Are you okay?” the tourist asked. “You’re mumbling.” He had his arm around her waist, helping her walk.

She nodded. “I’m fine.” But why couldn’t she remember the last two principles? In fact, she felt as if the first three were about to slip away too. Heart to blood, muscle to bone, tourist flesh above my own. With self-sacrifice near, my fuel is fear. By bridger means and might… By bridger means and might…

“We need to get you some water,” said the tourist—the tourist who should never have had to fight.

That was it. By bridger means and might, tourists will not fight.

“Just hang on. The river’s this way. We’ll get you hydrated. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

He was walking faster than she could move her feet and she stumbled. “This isn’t right,” she said. “I’m a liability.”

He continued pulling her along. “It’s a bridging excursion. You take what you get.”

“That’s stupid.”

“You’re the one who said it, Infinity. Two days ago.”

Heart to blood, muscle to bone, tourist flesh above my own.

“I see the water now. You’ll drink, we’ll cross the river again, and then we’ll lose them.”

She stumbled again. “I’ve got a better plan.”

“Just save it. Your plans always involve getting yourself killed. I’m not letting that happen.”

The river was bordered here by tall mud banks, so they walked downstream until they found a washout they could easily descend. With his arm still around her waist, the tourist walked her into the current until they were thigh deep.

“Drink as much as you can.”

She put her entire head under for several seconds, allowing the cool water to rinse away the sweat and filth. Then she drank until she felt like she might throw up. Several carnivorous fish had already found her and were nibbling at her flesh, but at this point they were a minor annoyance.

The tourist looked back the way they’d come. “No sign of them yet. Let’s drift downstream a ways and then cross.”

Her head was clearer now. “That’s what you’re going to do, but I’m going ashore here. I’ll walk upstream, and they’ll follow my scent trail. Get as far as you can.”

He frowned, then grimaced and swiped at a fish biting his leg. “Listen, bridger. Five minutes ago you could barely walk. You won’t get far. They’ll find you in no time. Then they’ll realize what our plan was and come after me. I heard some of what you were mumbling. By bridger means and might, tourists will not fight. If you leave me alone, you’ll be forcing me to fight alone. So you need to do your goddamn job and come with me.”

She glared at him. He was right—she wouldn’t get far. But he wouldn’t get far either, dragging her with him. She looked down at the stone knife she was still gripping in her right hand. There was one way she could make him flee without her. With self-sacrifice near, my fuel is fear. She raised the knife to her throat.

“Don’t!” he gasped. “You’re the only thing keeping me going.”

She blinked. Slowly, she lowered the knife. Carnivorous fish were still picking at her wounds, but she didn’t care. As a bridger she had made difficult decisions before, but she had never felt this uncertain. Her gut instinct told her that self-sacrifice was the right thing for this situation, but Desmond was also right. Or did she just want him to be right?

“Okay,” she whispered.

He furrowed his brows, and his shoulders relaxed slightly.

“I said okay. Let’s move.”

They waded farther into the water and allowed the current to carry them downstream, but soon the biting fish became intolerable, forcing them to cross the river.

Infinity kept a good pace for a few minutes, but then she began stumbling again, and Desmond had to support her. Every step with her right leg sent spasms through her hip. She realized that if Desmond weren’t with her she would have already given up and stopped to make one last stand against the black bird men.

Step after burning step she pushed on. They followed the river so that Infinity could replenish her depleted fluids as needed. They hadn’t seen the bird men since before crossing the river, but Infinity knew it was only a matter of time. And the sun was still too high to allow for hope that bridge-back would occur first.

Desmond stopped abruptly, snapping Infinity out of a pain-ridden stupor.

“Stay still,” he whispered.

She followed his gaze. About sixty yards to their left, three beaked, wolf-sized animals were hungrily feeding on a large carcass. The mangled corpse was impaled beneath a wooden framework of spikes.

“I’ve been here before,” he said softly. “That’s the kill trap I told you about yesterday. I know where we are.”

The creatures continued tearing at the carcass, apparently unaware of the humans. Desmond guided Infinity down the sloping bank of the river until they were out of the creatures’ sight. They moved downstream a short distance and then started back up the bank toward the trees.

Infinity tripped and fell, bringing Desmond down with her. It felt good to lie still on the muddy slope. “I’m done, tourist. You gotta leave me here.”

Desmond put a hand on her shoulder. “Listen. Like I said, I know where we are. We’re going over this hill and up the next. That’s where the cave is.” He patted the length of rope coiled around his shoulder. “We’re going to drop down to the cave and hide there until bridge-back.”

“They’ll track us there, straight to your friends,” she said.

“But the cave is defensible, right?”

She considered this. The black bird men would have to lower themselves to the cave by rope. Even if they could do that with one hand and a beak, they would be vulnerable. If she could make it to the cave, she could lower Desmond and the weapons down, and all three tourists would have a reasonable chance. Particularly if she then lured the bird men away from the cave.

She nodded. “Okay.”

He got to his feet and then helped her up. They began making their way toward the cave.

But by the time they reached the first hill’s summit, Infinity knew she wasn’t going to make it. No amount of willpower could overcome her exhaustion and the paralyzing pain that came with every step.

She could tell that the tourist knew it, too. Every few seconds he would look over his shoulder to see if the bird men were catching up, and as they began descending the slope to the next valley, he stopped.

“Take these.” He handed her the two-tipped spear he’d been carrying in his free hand. He had also been carrying the knife since she’d dropped it near the river, and he handed it to her as well. “Yesterday, you carried Lenny over your shoulders. That’s what I’m going to do now.”

She studied him for a moment. Was he strong enough to pull it off? Would it get him into the cave faster? She wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t think clearly enough to argue.

“Okay.” She transferred the two weapons to her left hand and swung the crossbow around so it was hanging against her back. “Take my right hand in your left and put my arm over your shoulders.”

He had to bend over to do this.

“Now put your right arm between my legs and pick me up.”

He bent lower, grunted, and used his legs to lift her. Without needing to be told, he transferred her right wrist to his right hand and gripped it tightly. “Jesus, you’re heavier than you look.”

“Shut up and walk. Look before you place every step. With a heavy load, your balance will suck.”

He started down the hill, stumbling a few times at first but quickly finding a rhythm.

Heart to blood, muscle to bone, tourist flesh above my own. With self-sacrifice near, my fuel is fear. By bridger means and might, tourists will not fight. Infinity still couldn’t recall the last two. But it didn’t really matter—at this moment she was probably defying all of them.

Exhausted, she allowed her head to hang down and rest against Desmond’s arm. Briefly, she wondered if her name would be added to the Lost Bridger wall in the hallway of SafeTrek if she didn’t make it. Maybe they’d put hers beneath Hornet’s and Razor’s.

Desmond slogged through the stream at the bottom of the first hill and started up the second hill. The rhythm of his steps and his breathing lulled Infinity toward unconsciousness.

“We made it,” the tourist said after what seemed like a long time.

Infinity opened her eyes and blinked. He was right—they were at the top of the hill.

He kneeled and gently rolled her onto the ground. Again he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You still with me?”

She nodded and sat up. The knife and spear were still in her left hand. Sprawled on the ground beside her like a dead snake was the rope they had made the previous day.

She nodded at the longer rope still hanging from his shoulder. “Give me that. We’re getting you down to the cave.”

He lifted the rope from his shoulder. “We’ll figure out a way to fasten it to something, and we’ll both go.”

She looked around. There was nothing there but a few loose rocks, none of them large enough to support either of them. She looked at the four-foot spear. Could they drive it into the ground and tie off to it? Was it strong enough? She handed it to him. “This is all we’ve got.”

Desmond took the spear, stepped to the edge of the cliff, and called out softly. “Lenny? Xavier?”

There was no answer.

He tried again, a bit louder. Still no response. He frowned and shook his head. After a moment, he took the spear and positioned it vertically over a spot that was covered in soil rather than bare rock. “Hold it here.”

Infinity crawled to the spear and held it.

Desmond picked up a fist-sized rock and brought it down on top of the spear. The weapon pierced the soil several inches. He hit it again, but the spear stopped, having obviously hit rock. He pulled it out and tried a different spot. It hit rock again. He moved it five feet back from the cliff’s edge, but it still would go no more than a few inches before hitting the large sheet of rock beneath them.

They gazed at each other silently. One of them would have to lower the other down to the cave.

A shrill squawk broke the silence.

Infinity turned. A black bird man was coming up the hill straight for them, its tracking animal pulling frantically at its leash.

15

Surprise

Desmond was struggling to process the enormity of his mistake. Not only had his plan to reach the cave failed, but also he had led the black birds directly to Lenny and Xavier, if they were even still alive.

The creature and its tracking animal moved steadily up the hill.

“I don’t see the other one,” Desmond said. “The two may have separated to find our trail after crossing the river. Maybe we can kill it.”

Infinity grabbed his arm. “I can’t fight. You need to run.”

The bird man was just seconds away. Instead of arguing, Desmond ignored her instructions, grabbed the spear, and turned to face the creature. Infinity cursed and struggled to her feet. Unsteadily, she stood at Desmond’s side, the stone knife in her hand.

The black bird stopped when its tracking animal was just out of the reach of Desmond’s weapon. The six-foot bird man, still adorned with beaded cords around its body and limbs, gazed at them with black eyes and a face seemingly incapable of expression. Slowly, it removed the rope, crossbow, and knife hanging from its neck and tossed them on the ground, apparently wanting to fight with only its double-tipped spear. The bird man emitted a few soft whistles, and its tracking animal moved to the side, where it waited patiently.

“It’s far more skilled than the brown birds,” Infinity said. “Surprising it will be harder. But if you’re not going to run, surprise is your only chance. I’m going to make it think I’m out of the fight.” Suddenly she groaned and stumbled to the side. She dropped to her knees and collapsed onto her face, falling onto the crossbow the bird men had given them. She rolled to her side with her back to Desmond and the bird man.

“Infinity?”

She let out an exaggerated moan, followed by, “Keep him busy without getting yourself killed.” These words came out as a continuous groan, as if she were in pain.

The creature stared at Infinity for a moment. Then it turned its attention back to Desmond. It held its spear out and shook it, apparently telling him to prepare to use his own spear. Desmond had the distinct impression the bird was growing impatient in its pursuit of an interesting challenge.

Aware that he was about to be painfully tormented again or even killed if he didn’t get this right, he tried to think. Surprise. He had to surprise the bird man.

The black bird was now pacing, circling, waiting for him to make the first move.

What did Desmond know about these creatures? They had brought their young to watch forced combat, which had included the two-tipped spears each time. From the earliest age, these creatures learned the nuances of using these weapons. There was no way Desmond could beat this creature with a weapon it had probably been using all its life.

Abruptly, he stood up straight and shook his spear, mimicking the bird man’s gesture. He tossed his spear to the ground. He pointed at it and then pointed at the spear in the bird man’s hands. Then he crouched and held his bare hands out like a wrestler preparing to grapple.

The black bird stopped circling. It looked at the spear on the ground and back at Desmond.

“That’s right,” Desmond taunted. “You brave enough to fight without it?”

The bird man tossed its own spear aside. Without warning, it charged Desmond and tackled him, knocking him backward.

Desmond used the bird’s momentum to roll it to the side. He managed to get on top of it and began frantically throwing punches, trying to overwhelm the bird with raw fury. He landed a couple of solid hits, but then the bird caught his left hand in its beak. It yanked his hand instantly to the side, nearly breaking the bones. It was on top of him before he knew what was happening.

Desmond tried getting ahold of the bird man’s shoulder with his free hand, but only ended up coming away with a handful of feathers.

With Desmond’s hand still gripped in its beak, the bird had two arms to fight with. It grabbed Desmond’s free hand with one and shoved the other against Desmond’s neck, its diminutive fingers clamping down on his throat.

Desmond tried pulling his left hand free, but the bird bit down harder, forcing him to cry out. The grip on his throat tightened, reducing his cry to a garbled choke.

This was it. The bird man was obviously done playing games.

Desmond tried to breathe but could only suck in tiny gasps.

The bird man gazed down at him silently, as if it were content to watch him slowly die.

Suddenly, he heard a snap. The bird man’s head jerked to the side, it’s beak releasing Desmond’s hand as it groped at its own face. A foot-long arrow was protruding from the creature’s eye.

The bird’s grip on Desmond’s throat loosened slightly, and he took a deep breath of air and twisted his head far enough to see Infinity. She was on her back. Her feet were in the air holding onto both arms of the crossbow. She was trying to extract a second arrow from the bottom of the weapon.

Desmond turned back to the bird man.

The creature was trying to pull the arrow from its head.

Desmond stretched his arm out to the side and then swung it as hard as he could, slamming his palm into the arrow’s fletched end. This drove the arrow the rest of the way into the bird’s head, and the tip came out through its other eye.

The creature squawked frantically, splattering Desmond’s face with spittle, and it clamped its fingers harder on Desmond’s throat. Blinded and enraged, it moved its other hand to Desmond’s throat and began choking him with all its might.

“Goddammit!” he heard Infinity cry.

Desmond was busy trying to tear the bird’s fingers from his throat, but he managed to crank his head to the side again. The tracking animal was attacking Infinity, going for her face. She had dropped the crossbow trying to fight it off.

Desmond let go of the bird man’s fingers and reached across its face to grab the arrow protruding from its eye. He yanked on it, churning it back and forth in a desperate attempt to pulverize the contents of the creature’s skull. But this was having little effect, and Desmond was starting to feel the prickly swelling of unconsciousness.

In a last-ditch effort, he twisted the arrow as hard as he could. Something gave way inside the bird’s skull, and the arrow pivoted. The bird man went limp and collapsed on top of him.

He pushed the body to the side, rolled to his feet, and rushed over to Infinity.

Although twice the tracking animal’s size, she was fighting for her life. The creature was relentlessly lunging at her, its beak now red from her blood. Her forearms were shredded from blocking its attacks.

Desmond grabbed the creature’s leash and ran to the cliff, dragging the thrashing animal behind him. Without stopping, he swung it like a sack of rocks and launched it over the edge. Without emitting a single growl or squawk, the creature splashed into the river fifty feet below.

He ran back to Infinity and kneeled beside her. “Oh shit!”

“They’re just minor cuts,” she said, inspecting the wounds on her arms. “You’re getting into the cave. Now.” She crawled to the rope Desmond had dropped and gathered it up. “I’ll lower you down.”

“Give me that,” he said. He took one end of the rope and tied it around the bird man’s neck. He then extracted the other end from the coil and said, “Lift your arms.” He began tying the other end around Infinity’s chest above her breasts and under her armpits.

She said, “You can’t go down last—that thing’s body isn’t heavy enough to hold your weight.”

He finished tying the knot. “It’ll work, trust me. Now, over the side.” He grabbed the rope and sat at the cliff’s edge with his feet braced.

A squawk came from lower on the hillside. They both turned to look. The other black bird and its tracking animal were running up the slope.

“Shit! Go!” he cried.

For a second she hesitated.

“There’s no time to argue!” he shouted.

She rolled to her stomach and began sliding over the edge feet first. Her eyes met his. “I want you down there in twenty seconds.” Then she was gone.

A large section of the rope slid through his hands, burning and scraping his palms. He tightened his grip, and her weight nearly pulled him over the side. He turned and looked down the slope. The bird man was halfway up the hill. It squawked again and released the leash. The tracking animal sprinted ahead. It would be on him in seconds.

The rope went slack. Infinity was in the cave.

Desmond frantically rolled onto his belly and pulled hand over hand on the extra loops of rope until he felt the tension of the black bird’s carcass. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the tracking animal still charging at him. It was no more than twenty yards away. He skidded backward over the cliff’s edge, putting all of his weight on the rope, just as the creature was closing the last few yards of distance. It opened its beak and lunged for his face as he cleared the edge, pulling the dead bird’s body across the rocky ground above.

The carcass was lighter than he had thought, and he was sliding down the cliff face frighteningly fast. Just as the dark cave opening came into view, the black bird’s body suddenly stopped sliding. Desmond lost his grip on the rope and began falling. Something gripped his ankle and pulled. He was slammed onto his back in the mouth of the cave. He rolled onto his side, trying to suck in air, the impact having knocked the wind from him.

Infinity released his ankle and frantically pulled at the rope, which was still tied around her chest. “The bastard’s pulling me out!”

The rope was being pulled steadily up, lifting Infinity to her knees and then onto her feet. Still gasping for air, Desmond threw his arms around her legs just as her feet were lifted from the rock floor, holding her in place.

A few seconds later the rope slackened and Infinity dropped into a heap on top of Desmond. The rest of the rope was now dangling over the lip of the cave. It had broken or been cut.

Desmond was finally starting to get his breath back, and he sucked in huge lungfuls of air. Suddenly he remembered Lenny and Xavier, and he turned away from the cave opening. After his eyes adjusted, he saw that his friends were lying a few yards away at the back of the cave. They were both splotched with blood. And they weren’t moving.

The cave ceiling sloped down sharply, so Desmond crawled to them. Xavier was sprawled on the cave floor in front of Lenny, with a blood-stained rock gripped in his hand. Desmond felt his face. It was warm. He pressed his ear to Xavier’s chest and heard his heart beating. “Xavier!” He shook his shoulder.

Xavier sputtered, opened his eyes, and raised the rock as if he were going to swing it. “Desmond?”

“What happened here?” Desmond asked.

Xavier looked past Desmond at Infinity, and then he turned back to Desmond. He was obviously confused. “Birds. Big ones. They started showing up at sunset. I think they roost in here.”

“They attacked you?”

Xavier nodded. “Big ones.” He looked back at Lenny. “Oh, God, is he dead?”

Desmond leaned past Xavier and put a hand on Lenny’s wrist. “No, he’s alive.”

“Twenty, maybe more,” Xavier said. “Not happy we were here. They started attacking us. Never quit until morning. All night, they kept coming. Lenny lost consciousness after a few hours. I had to stay awake and fight them off. Otherwise they’d have torn him apart. They finally quit at daylight, and then I must have fallen asleep.” He looked out the cave opening. “What time is it? How long until bridge-back?”

“We’re getting close.” Infinity said. She crawled back away from the cave’s mouth. “Move aside, tourists. Let me examine him.”

Desmond moved to the side.

With obvious effort, Xavier used his arms to move out of her way. Suddenly his eyes got wide. “What is that?”

Desmond turned. Suspended in the cave opening by a rope tied to one of its feet was the bird man’s tracking animal. Before any of them could react, it was lowered to the cave floor, where it flipped over onto its feet and charged them.

Xavier was the closest, and he raised his rock to defend himself. But the creature grabbed his arm with its beak, and Xavier cried out in pain.

Immediately the rope tightened again, flipping the tracking animal upside down. It held on tightly to Xavier, and as the rope was pulled from above, the rising animal started dragging him to the mouth of the cave.

Desmond dove for the creature and managed to grab its free leg. He pulled down as hard as he could. The creature’s bones cracked under his full weight. Astoundingly, it still didn’t release Xavier’s arm.

The creature kept rising, threatening to pull both Desmond and Xavier to the edge of the cave. The bird man above was stronger than Desmond had thought possible.

“It’s breaking my arm!” Xavier cried.

Desmond’s feet were now inches from the edge, and still the animal was being steadily pulled up. “Infinity, help!”

She stumbled forward and grabbed the tracking animal by the neck.

Xavier’s eyes were desperate. “Careful, don’t yank on it!”

With the weight of all three of them, the creature finally stopped rising. Suddenly the rope went slack, and Desmond, Xavier, Infinity, and the tracking animal collapsed to the floor in a writhing heap. Apparently the bird man above had decided to let go.

The creature’s broken bones wouldn’t allow it to get to its feet, but it flailed and scratched with its clawed forearms, still not releasing Xavier.

Infinity crawled away from the pile of bodies. “Use the rock!”

Desmond snatched the rock Xavier had dropped and began pummeling the creature’s abdomen with it.

“Don’t hit its head!” Xavier cried.

Desmond continued wildly pounding at the creature’s body. But this was having no more effect than hitting the rubber dinosaur back at SafeTrek’s training field. He noticed one of its ruined legs sprawled outward at an unnatural angle, so he slammed the rock on the knee joint, crushing the bones.

This time the creature let go. It lunged toward Desmond, its bloody beak gaping. Xavier was on his back but thrust his good foot, kicking the animal toward the cave opening. He scooted his body closer and kicked again, sending the creature over the edge to the river below.

For several seconds after the splash, nobody made any sounds except heavy breathing.

“The bastard still has one more rope,” Infinity said eventually. “We have to expect him to use it.”

Desmond scanned the cave’s floor. He found a few more loose rocks small enough to pick up. He gave one to Xavier and one to Infinity, keeping the blood-soaked rock for himself. These were the only weapons they had.

“He’s got the same problem we had,” Desmond said. “Nothing to tie off to. Except his dead friend.”

Infinity got to her feet, shaking and unsteady. “We’re not underestimating it again. Get over here and get ready, both of you.”

Xavier had been inspecting his arm, which looked pretty torn up, but now he stopped and stared up at her. “What’s up there? Is it worse than the thing that just about broke my arm?”

She nodded. “Bigger, smarter, and highly skilled.”

Xavier began pushing himself into position at her side. “This cave was supposed to be safe. It was the worst idea ever.”

Desmond stepped to Infinity’s other side. She was struggling to remain standing, and he worried she might fall over the edge. “Xavier,” he said. “when you hear what we’ve been through, you may take that back. This is the safest place I’ve been since we bridged.”

A sound came from above, like something heavy sliding over rock. A black body dropped into view, having kicked away from the cliff face just above the cave opening. It swung back in as it dropped, and then the black bird darkened the cave entrance as it landed on its feet before them. It released its rope from its beak just as the body of the other bird man fell past behind it.

Another splash came from below.

The bird man had a two-tipped spear in one hand and a stone knife in the other. It swiveled its head, taking in the scene, and then crouched low to the ground.

A thought ran through Desmond’s mind—If you’re not going to run, surprise is your only chance. Just as the bird man pushed off with one foot to attack, Desmond dove forward, driving his shoulder into the creature’s chest before it could react.

He felt the bird man flailing in the air as they both fell from the cave. They fell forty feet in less than two seconds and hit the water. The bird man’s back struck the riverbed, and Desmond’s head slammed into its chest. Stunned, Desmond sucked water into his lungs. He coughed and sputtered, trying to get to his feet in the waist-deep water. When he finally stood up, he retched, spewing water from his lungs and esophagus.

The black bird rose to the surface beside him. The creature wasn’t moving. Desmond grabbed one of its arms and flipped it over, face down. It began drifting away.

“Are you insane, Des?” It was Xavier’s voice.

Still coughing, Desmond looked up. Infinity and Xavier were leaning out of the cave, watching him.

“Tourist, give me an injury report.”

“I think… I’m okay.”

“Good. Now, make sure that bastard is dead. Use a rock. Or hold its head under until you know.”

The bird man was still face down, drifting slowly with the current. If it wasn’t dead already, it would be drowned soon. Desmond stayed in place and counted to sixty, watching it float away. He decided that was long enough.

A carnivorous fish picked at his groin, and then several others began biting his legs. He made his way to the sand bar opposite the rock bluff. He turned to the west, where the sun was getting closer to the horizon. An hour until sunset, maybe two. Even though he was in an alternate universe, it was still August 4th here, and he was still in Missouri. It had to be close to 7:00 PM.

He looked downstream. The body of the first bird man—the one Desmond and Infinity had killed—had jammed up against a few boulders. The rope the second bird man had used would still be tied to the first. Desmond made his way along the sandbar to the body, waded out to the rope, and then pulled the body to shore. He looked at the dead creature and then up at the cave on the cliff face. The bird man was easily 150 pounds. It wouldn’t be easy to drag, but there was nothing else up there to tie the rope to.

Desmond was already exhausted, and he was aware it would be easier just to find another place to hide. But at this moment he wanted to be up there with Infinity and Xavier and Lenny—perhaps more than anything he had ever wanted before. And what else was he going to do to kill the time? The thought of sitting alone somewhere in this hellish place for an hour or more without his friends was unbearable.

He began dragging the body downstream, limping and grunting from the effort and from the pain of his wounds.

Infinity called down to him—something about the stupidity of what he was doing. Xavier also said something, but Desmond was no longer listening. He pulled the body to the place where they had crossed the previous day. He waded across, ignoring the fish trying to feed on his skin. After pulling the body the rest of the way across, he tied the rope around his waist. He then turned around and leaned into it, slowly and painstakingly inching the bird’s body up the sloped riverbank. When the body was on nearly-level ground, he turned and started walking upstream, dragging it between trees and over rocks and rotting logs. When he reached the base of the hill leading up to the top of the cliff, he stopped to rest. For a moment he thought he was still wet from the river, but he realized he was actually covered in his own sweat. He stood there, hands on his knees, until he had stopped wheezing. The rope was already rubbing skin off his waist, so he situated it a bit higher.

This entire grueling task had been a terrible idea. But he needed a purpose.

He started up the hill, dragging the body. The incline gradually increased, and soon he was pulling the body just a few inches at a time, resting between each effort while trying to prevent it from sliding back down.

Eventually, he emerged from the forest onto the open hillside. Now he could see the hill’s summit, the place where they had killed the creature he was dragging. It wasn’t far. But it seemed impossibly distant.

Lean and strain, dragging the body a few inches. Rest. Lean and strain. A few inches more. Rest.

He paused to look at the sun. How long had it been?

Abruptly, the sun and sky disappeared.

* * *

Desmond landed on his feet, but then he collapsed onto his face, hitting the white, padded floor and leaving a splotch of blood and grime. Suddenly nauseous, he rolled to his side and cupped a hand over his mouth. A few seconds later, the urge to throw up passed.

“Severe injuries!” Infinity cried, her voice breaking and weakened. “First priority to Lenny. Unconscious from blood loss and possibly other factors. Bite wounds to his foot and ankle. Second priority, Xavier. Compound fracture, lower leg. Third priority, Desmond. Multiple stab wounds, broken nose, and possible internal injuries and shock from a forty-foot fall.”

Desmond got to his knees as the airlock popped open and techs in white biosuits swarmed into the bridging room. Xavier was curled up on his side heaving, but nothing was coming out. Lenny was sprawled face down, motionless. A few feet away was a pile of black and red goo, pincushioned with splintered bones. Desmond stared at it, confused.

“It’s best if you don’t look at him,” Infinity said.

He turned. She was sitting up, talking to him.

“We all bridge back, dead or alive,” she said.

A gurney was wheeled in, and the techs lifted Lenny onto it and took him out. Another was brought in, and they lifted Xavier to his feet. As they helped him onto the gurney, his eyes met Desmond’s.

“We made it back,” Xavier said.

Desmond nodded.

The techs then wheeled Xavier out.

“Infinity, are you okay?” The voice was Armando Doyle’s. It had come from speakers somewhere in the ceiling.

“I’ve been better.”

“Can you walk on your own, sir?”

Desmond realized the tech beside him had spoken to him. “Yeah, I can walk.”

“This way, then.” The tech took him by the arm, helped him to his feet, and guided him toward the airlock.

“What in God’s name happened?” Doyle asked.

“What the hell does it look like?” Infinity groaned as she got to her feet. “I’ll tell you about it in the interview.”

“How soon will you be ready?”

Desmond was almost through the first airlock door, but he stopped.

Infinity frowned and looked at Doyle through the window to the control room. “What’s going on? I thought you weren’t even going to be here?”

The tech pulled on Desmond’s arm, but he refused to move. Something didn’t seem right.

“I returned from California sooner than I had planned,” Doyle said. “Something has changed. In fact, everything has changed.”

16

Interview

Once the three tourists had been taken to the med lab, a tech brought in a gurney for Infinity. She had been injured on plenty of past excursions, but she had never allowed the techs to wheel her out of the bridging room. It hurt like hell to walk, and her pride had already been shredded anyway, so she accepted the help.

“Can you prioritize your injuries, Infinity?” The question came from the med tech, a woman named Poppy Safran. Poppy was the first to examine Infinity after every bridge-back.

Infinity gently touched her right hip. “This is the worst. Arrow went all the way through. I don’t even know if the bone is intact.”

Poppy poked at the entrance wound, examining it. “You tried to plug this?”

“A mud plug.”

Behind her biosuit faceplate, Poppy shook her head. “Jesus, Infinity.” She reached for the handle of the digital X-ray machine mounted to the ceiling and pulled it down and into place above Infinity’s hip. “Let’s take a quick look. We’ll take more detailed X-rays later—I know Armando needs to talk to you ASAP.” She loosened a knob on the flat X-ray detector positioned beneath the table and moved it into place beneath Infinity’s hip. “Hold your breath, hon.” She tapped the touchscreen display a few times and stared at the resulting image. “Can you roll onto your left side?”

Infinity complied. “What’s up with Armando?”

“I’d better let him explain. Don’t breathe.” She took another image.

Infinity didn’t like the sound of that. “Explain what?”

Poppy studied the image, ignoring the question. “I don’t see any fractures or chipping. From what I can tell, the object just missed the femoral head, maybe by only a few millimeters. If it had damaged your femoral head, you wouldn’t be walking at all. I’d say you were lucky—as usual.”

“Good to know. Explain what, Poppy?”

Poppy gazed at her through the biosuit’s faceplate. “If this is the worst of your injuries, you’ll be moving around like normal in a few weeks. Which is good, because we need you.”

Infinity frowned and studied Poppy’s face. The med tech wasn’t acting like herself. She was nervous, blinking frequently, and perspiring, even though her biosuit was cooled. “I was thinking of taking some time off,” Infinity said. “This excursion was a goddamn disaster. Maybe I’m even done for good.”

Poppy pursed her lips and shook her head. She was actually trembling. “No, Infinity, you’re not.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Poppy put Infinity in a wheelchair and took her to the interview chamber. Infinity had been shot up with antibiotics as well as a moderate stimulant to help her get through the interview. A gel pack had been taped to each of her wounds, which meant about 40% of her body was now covered in tape.

Poppy opened the chamber door and wheeled her in. The room was actually part of the sealed bridging recovery area, so there was no need for an airlock here. Poppy positioned Infinity and her wheelchair behind the waist-high concealment barrier. The tech then unfolded a sterile paper gown and handed it to Infinity.

“What the hell is this?” Infinity asked.

“Armando told us to make an exception this time. You might want to cover up.” She stepped to the door, but then she turned back to gaze at Infinity, creases etched into the skin on the sides of her mouth. “Infinity, I’ve always admired you. You’re the best bridger we have. Thank you.”

This strange statement was further evidence that something was happening, but Infinity was too exhausted to try extracting more information from Poppy. She would be in the loop soon enough. Before Poppy shut the door, Infinity said, “Where’s the tourist, Desmond? He’s well enough to be here for the interview, isn’t he?”

“I think he is. But we thought you might want to do it without—”

“I want him here.”

She nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Several minutes later, Poppy brought Desmond in, also in a wheelchair, and parked him beside Infinity.

“Thank you, Poppy,” Infinity said.

The med tech gave her a smile, but it was obviously forced. She then stepped out and closed the door.

Infinity looked Desmond up and down. Like her, he was covered in taped-on gel packs. A paper gown, still folded, lay in his lap. “Your friends doing okay?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. They took them both straight to surgery. Lenny might lose his foot.”

“He won’t. We’ve got good people here.”

He nodded and then glanced around the room. “I don’t know these people like you do, but they’re acting kind of—”

The room behind the plexiglass window lit up abruptly as someone turned on the lights. Armando stepped into the room. Behind him came three more men, all in white shirts and ties—probably academics, although two of them seemed unusually lean and attentive. The third, an older man, looked familiar to Infinity. Had she seen him in the interview room before?

She sensed the tourist tensing up beside her and frowned at him.

He shot her a glance. “What’s going on? Why is Morgan Macpherson here?”

She looked through the window again as the men took their seats. Why did that name sound familiar? She turned back to the tourist, shaking her head. “Who?”

“Morgan Macpherson. The vice president of the United States?”

She turned back to the window. “Oh, shit.”

Macpherson raised his brows, and Armando said, “The mic is on, Infinity.”

She swallowed. She had thought she was prepared for about anything. But something was seriously wrong.

Vice President Macpherson leaned forward in his chair. “Miss Fowler, first I’d like to say I'm sorry about the unfortunate loss of your partner.”

Infinity snatched the paper gown Poppy had left and draped it over her chest. “But,” she said, “that’s not why you're here.”

“No, it’s not. I addressed the other SafeTrek bridgers earlier today. But I wanted to stay here until your return so I could talk to you personally. My purpose here is to lend credibility and gravitas to what you are about to hear. President Millwright would be here herself if it were possible.”

Infinity felt like she was in a freakish dream. “I’m listening.”

“SafeTrek is no longer a private company. Its operation is now administered by the federal government.”

“What? Since when?”

Armando raised his hands. “Listen, Infinity. This is something we’re cooperating with completely.” He glanced at Macpherson. “Do you mind if I explain?”

The vice president nodded. “By all means.”

Armando gazed at Infinity and Desmond through the transparent barrier. He was more disheveled than usual. His hair was hardly combed, and his eyes were red, perhaps from lack of sleep. Even his bow tie was missing. And he had that same strained look Infinity had seen on Poppy’s face. He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. “A lot has happened in the last thirty-six hours. I understand you were told before bridging yesterday that the Allen Telescope Array had picked up another radio signal, from a second alien civilization.”

Desmond said, “We were told about the new signal, but it was uncertain whether the signal was from a second civilization.”

“That is no longer an uncertainty,” the vice president said.

Infinity and Desmond exchanged a glance. “What confirmed that?” he asked.

Armando went on. “As you’ve been told, upon learning of the second signal, I immediately flew to Mountain View to join the discussions at the SETI Institute. Obviously I have a vested interest in the implications. I thought I might participate in sorting out the transmitted information. Since this signal used the same formatting protocols as the first, the content had already been revealed by the time I arrived. The source is slightly under 42 degrees of arc from the Outlanders, from our perspective. Preliminary estimates suggest the source could be as far as 3,000 parsecs from the Outlander source—almost 10,000 light years.”

Infinity was getting tired of all this beating around the bush. “Maybe you could just tell us what the hell’s going on.”

Armando frowned. But then he nodded. “The signal came from a source far from that of the original signal, but that’s not how we know it’s from a different civilization. Listen carefully, kiddo.”

Infinity blinked at him. He had never called her that in front of a tourist. She gritted her teeth and nodded.

“We know it’s from a different civilization because it contains a warning.”

Desmond said it first—“A warning?”

“Apparently we aren’t the only civilization to receive and decode the Outlander signal. At some point in the past, this second civilization received it as well. And they constructed bridging devices, just as we have done. Soon after starting to use the devices, they began observing unusual weather events. And their planet’s surface became unstable.”

Infinity glanced at Desmond. His face was pale.

The vice president said, “We now believe that we understand what is happening to our own planet.”

“And what is that?” Infinity asked.

“The bridging devices,” Armando said. “Each time they are used, they create a handful of some kind of particle we have never encountered before. Previously, we had no way to detect these particles. We suspect the second alien civilization was more technologically advanced than we are, but the signal they transmitted made it clear they did not fully understand the process whereby the particles were being created. But what they did understand is more than enough. The content of their signal is detailed and very convincing.”

Armando paused, and a lump began forming in Infinity’s throat. She sensed everything was about to change—and not in a good way. Armando was looking at her like a father would look at a daughter before explaining he was dying of cancer.

“The second signal described the particles generated by the bridging device as having two properties. First, they consume every other particle they touch. More accurately, every particle they touch disappears. In the same way your hair disappears when you bridge. No idea where it goes—probably to another universe. The second property is that the particles are heavy. Once they’re created, they immediately begin falling to the planet’s center of gravity. Every particle in their path disappears. They pass through the planet’s core and continue on until gravity pulls them back to the core again. The result is that all of these new particles gradually accumulate at the earth’s center.”

“And there they sit, eating away at the core,” Desmond added. “As the core becomes smaller, the earth’s crust is destabilized.”

Armando nodded. “Earthquakes, extreme weather events, disruption of the magnetosphere. Which is why we’re seeing auroras over Missouri.”

Infinity was beginning to understand what the tourist had apparently already figured out. “You’re saying this is going to get worse?”

Armando nodded again. “The second alien civilization was convinced their planet’s complete destruction was inevitable. They constructed a transmitter for their signal on a craft in orbit around their dying planet. We assume that eventually the craft was released from the diminishing gravitational pull as their planet was reduced to nothing. Then it probably drifted off through space, still transmitting its signal.”

Several seconds of silence followed.

“So the second signal was sent out as a warning,” Desmond said.

“Yes,” Armando replied. “Likely with the hope that other civilizations would discover the warning before discovering the original signal, and would avoid creating and using the bridging devices. Unfortunately, we discovered the original signal first.”

Desmond grabbed the concealment barrier with both his hands. “It doesn’t make sense! Why would an intelligent civilization send out blueprints for a technology that destroys planets?”

“It makes perfect sense,” Infinity said. “It’s a Trojan horse. A weapon. Or more accurately, a deadly lure. I know you people want to believe alien civilizations are naturally friendly, but there is no strategic advantage to being friendly. And there’s definitely no advantage to giving away critical technology. You know what does give a civilization strategic advantage? Destroying every other civilization that could someday become a threat. And what makes even more sense is to develop an inexpensive, efficient way to do that. A way that allows you to sit back on your ass as every developing civilization close enough to become a threat receives your radio signal and eagerly destroys itself. The signal is a lure. And those bastards knew no one could resist the lure of infinite universes.”

Again several seconds of silence followed.

Desmond released the barrier and leaned back. “Is it too late to stop the process?”

The vice president said, “We have no idea, but we have to assume it is.”

“How much time do we have?” Infinity asked.

“Again,” the vice president said, “we have no idea.”

She looked from the vice president to Armando, and then back to the vice president. “The planet is being destroyed, and you came here to talk to us in person? You could have given the order to quit using the bridging device over the phone. Why are you here?”

The vice president nodded. “Because we don’t want you to quit using the device.”

She glanced at Armando, but his face was like a stone.

Macpherson went on. “The United States government does not have a contingency plan for this. We have strategies for everything else you can imagine, including an impending asteroid impact. But all of those plans involve seeking shelter on a traumatized earth. None of them involve an earth that ceases to exist. And we are decades from having the capability to move even a few people off the planet. To put it simply, if the second alien signal’s prediction proves to be correct, the human species is screwed.”

Infinity’s mind raced as she began to realize why the vice president had come to SafeTrek. But what he wanted was impossible. “You want to bridge people to another world, don’t you? Do you have any goddamn idea how—”

“Infinity!” It was Armando. “Vice President Macpherson is aware of the limitations of bridging. Hear him out.”

Macpherson cleared his throat. “For the time being, we must assume the threat is real. All evidence matches what we have deciphered from the second radio signal. Perhaps in the coming weeks—assuming the earth exists that long—we’ll know more. But in the meantime, if there is any chance of preventing the total extinction of the human race, we must take it. That’s why I’m here. We need good bridgers. We need you to find suitable worlds. When you do, we’ll have carefully-selected groups of people here ready to bridge to those worlds. And then—”

Infinity stopped him with a raised palm. “Listen! It takes thirty-six hours to do a bio-probe. If the bio-probe is successful, it takes thirty-six hours to send bridgers to check it out. We have access to each alternate world for only 108 hours. That leaves only thirty-six hours before we lose access to that world forever.”

Armando spoke up. “Again, we’re all aware of the limitations. We’ve never bridged more than five people at once, but there is no reason we can’t bridge more than that—perhaps even thirty at once. And we think we can have the bridging device up to full power and ready again within an hour of each bridging. Infinity, I believe we can bridge about a thousand people to a specific world within thirty-six hours.”

Infinity stared in disbelief. This was their plan to save the human species?

“I want to be a part of this,” the tourist said.

Everyone turned to him.

He glanced nervously at Infinity and then addressed the men behind the plexiglass window. “You need bridgers, and I’ve had some experience now. I want to help.”

Infinity gazed at him. For some reason, at that moment, it actually hit her that the world was ending. Everyone was going to die except for a few who were bridged to alternate universes. Only seven bridging facilities existed on Earth. How many was it even possible to save? Each thousand who were bridged to an alternate world would need skilled guides to help them survive and start a colony. Infinity was damn sure she would not be among those selected to survive unless she were one of the guides.

Armando said, “One excursion could hardly be considered experience, Mr. Weaver.”

“He can be my partner,” Infinity blurted out.

Now everyone turned to her.

“He saved my life. Not only that, but he has the ability to recall long strings of information, a skill that could be highly useful. He’ll make a damn good bridger.” She turned to Armando. “If you want me in on this insane plan, Desmond’s going to be my partner.”

17

Extinction

August 19 (fifteen days later)

The subtle shaking of another tremor broke Desmond’s concentration, resulting in a jab to his gut from Infinity’s double-tipped, four-foot spear.

“You took your eyes off mine again,” she said. “Watch my face, not my weapon. Look at me!”

Desmond stared at her.

She jiggled the rubber tip of her spear up and down. “Can you see what my weapon is doing while you’re looking at my eyes?”

He sighed. “Yes.”

“Of course you can. Now watch my eyes.” After a few seconds she narrowed them slightly and tightened her mouth, and a split second later she thrust the spear.

This time he blocked it.

She nodded. “That’s better.”

Desmond held one hand up and stepped over to the picnic table to get a drink. He checked the time on his phone. “We’ve been at this for three hours. Take a break with me.” They had done half-hour drills with six different weapons, and the training yard behind the SafeTrek building was starting to heat up under the late-morning sun.

She shrugged and joined him at the picnic table. They both drank deeply from their water bottles. For several minutes they sat on the table listening to the murmur of activity from the sprawling acres of lawn and forest on the front side of the SafeTrek building. A few weeks ago, the SafeTrek building had been hidden away, isolated at the end of a half-mile private road running through mature Missouri oak-hickory forest. Now, the area on either side of that road had been cleared to make room for almost 2,000 living spaces, including RVs, bunkhouse trailers, and wall tents. There was enough temporary housing to accommodate 1,436 refugees—two groups of 718 people selected to bridge permanently to alternate worlds. In addition, the encampment was occupied by another 600 people: 100 security officers, 300 workers responsible for providing food, sanitary services, medical treatment, and last-minute survival training to the refugees, and another 200 spouses and children of these workers. The workers and their families had been promised a place in the last group to bridge, as long as they continued providing their services until that day came. And since it was becoming clearer every day that the earth was indeed dying—and dying fast—all of the workers were diligently committed to their duties.

Any of the bridgers surviving until then would be allowed to go with the last group.

Someone at the federal level had decided there needed to be age restrictions for colony members, due to the potential hardships. In spite of the resulting public outcry, no one under fifteen or over sixty could participate. Whether this rule was right or wrong, it had reduced the once-overwhelming number of people demanding spots in the colonies. The only families eligible were those with all members between the fifteen to sixty slot.

Through frantic trial and error at the seven bridging facilities around the world, it had been discovered that one-way, non-return bridging could be accomplished by simply not administering the radioisotope marker. It had also been shown that about twenty-three people could bridge at one time, presumably limited by total biomass. And so the agreed-upon safe standard was twenty people. Lastly, it had been proven that bridging devices could consistently be made ready for bridging another group fifty-two minutes after the previous bridge, so sixty minutes was considered a safe standard. This allowed 718 refugees, plus two bridgers, to be bridged in the available thirty-six hours. So 718 had become the standard population size for each new human colony. Although there were seven bridging facilities, only five colonies had so far been bridged to other versions of Earth. This was due to a number of failed bio-probes and world-assessment excursions. The SafeTrek facility had bridged one of those five.

The back door to the building popped open abruptly. Lenny came out, followed by Xavier, each of them on crutches with one leg in a cast from the knee down. Behind them came a woman and man Desmond hadn’t seen before.

“You two are hardcore,” Lenny said as he propped his crutches against the picnic table and sat down. “It’s freaking sweltering out here.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to stay hydrated,” Desmond said. “Couple of weeks and you two will be training out here with us.”

“That might be pushing it,” Xavier said. “We’ll be ready when we’re ready.” He turned to the man and woman behind him. “Lorissa and Zachariah, meet your bridgers, Decay and Infinity. Decay and Infinity, meet Lorissa and Zachariah, your tourists. Or environment evaluators, or whatever we’re calling them now. Lenny and I are giving them the grand tour, seeing as we’re not good for much else around here.”

Desmond appraised the tourists as he shook their hands. “You don’t have to call me Decay. Just call me Desmond.” He estimated they were both in their forties. The woman appeared to be in decent physical shape. The man, on the other hand, was slightly pudgy and didn’t look like he spent much time in the sun.

As Desmond had expected, Infinity stayed put, not interested in shaking hands.

But Lorissa stepped around the picnic table and extended a hand to her anyway. “I’m from the University of Oklahoma. Agricultural sciences.”

“And I’m at Iowa State,” Zachariah said. “Microbiology and Parasitology.”

Infinity nodded. She shook Lorissa’s extended hand but didn’t reply to either of them.

Zachariah slapped his hands together. “My goodness! Real bridgers, in the flesh. If we weren’t meeting under such dire circumstances, this would all be downright exhilarating.”

Finally, Infinity spoke. “By dire, you mean everyone on Earth will be dead soon?”

The guy frowned. “Well, yes. I suppose. I was just trying to impose some levity.”

Infinity gave no response.

Lenny cleared his throat. “Well, damn. As far as awkward moments go, I’d give that one a seven.”

Desmond spoke to Lenny and Xavier, “I suppose this means Wraith and Trencher have had a successful bio-probe?” Wraith and Trencher were the bridgers up for the next excursion. If they returned with positive news, SafeTrek’s second group of 718 refugees would bridge.

“Yep, the bio-probe came back two hours ago,” Xavier said. “Lenny and I were there to see it return. Every test animal alive but one. So Doyle asked us to bring Lorissa and Zach to meet you. You’re supposed to start their training today.”

Again, Desmond appraised the tourists. So this was really happening—he and Infinity would be next in line.

Lorissa spoke up. “According to protocol, our group has voted on which divergence point to select for our new home. The overwhelming majority of us would prefer a world without other humans. We would like to have our own identity as we begin a new human colony, rather than simply melding into an existing population. So we have chosen a divergence point of 210,000 years.”

This plan made sense to Desmond. Homo sapiens had shown up on Earth about 195,000 years ago. Since most evolutionary events were random and unlikely, in a do-over of the last 210,000 years, humans probably wouldn’t even appear at all.

Lenny grabbed his crutches and struggled to his feet. “Wraith and Trencher will be back in less than thirty-six hours, probably with news of a suitable world. So they’ll have thirty-six hours to bridge 718 lucky bastards.” He turned to Desmond. “And then we’ll initiate your bio-probe—another thirty-six hours. So my wicked-keen mathematical mind figures you’ve got 108 hours until pucker time.” He looked at Lorissa and Zachariah. “Sorry, but the fun part of your tour is over.”

Xavier nudged Zachariah’s shoulder. “Might as well take your clothes off now. Your training doesn’t get real until you do.”

He and Lenny turned and crutched their way back toward the air-conditioned SafeTrek building.

* * *

Desmond couldn’t sleep, which had become a nightly problem during the last two weeks. When he did sleep, he often dreamed of his mom, huddled up in her home in Lexington as horrifying, inescapable earthquakes or tsunami waves devastated everything around her. He sighed, pushed the covers off, and sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes in frustration. His mom was over sixty, therefore not allowed to join a colony. He got up and pulled on a pair of shorts, left his bunk room, and padded barefoot down the SafeTrek halls to the metal door leading to the training field in the back. He smiled when he saw the door had been propped open with a small rock. All doors were kept locked now, and the rock meant Infinity wasn’t sleeping either.

He emerged under a starry, moonless sky. He was slightly disappointed that no aurora was visible. He stood still for a minute or so, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. Even as late as it was, a considerable amount of noise filtered around the building, including what sounded like someone wailing in anguish. Seven hundred and eighteen of the refugees would soon leave this world forever. Everyone had their own way of dealing with such knowledge. Several days earlier, Desmond had made the mistake of wandering through the makeshift village of waiting refugees. Most of them seemed to be living their last hours on this world in a sedative-induced daze, walking a fine line between euphoria and emotional breakdown. Even though they were fortunate to have been selected, they would soon leave everything they had ever known for an existence filled with hardships they could barely fathom.

Infinity was sitting on the picnic table. Her skin glistened in the starlight, probably from holding yoga poses Desmond couldn’t come close to replicating.

She glanced at him as he sat on the tabletop beside her, but she didn’t say anything. She turned her gaze upward again, and they stared silently at the stars.

“It’s almost cold out here,” Desmond muttered. It wasn’t actually cold, but he thought this half-joking hint might make her smile.

She nodded slightly. Then she surprised him by turning toward him. “Scoot your ass back.”

He moved back from the edge of the table to make room for her. She sat between his legs and leaned back against his chest. The two weeks of hair growth on her scalp felt soft on his skin.

Several minutes passed.

“At least we don’t have to worry about falling out of a tree this time,” he said.

She didn’t reply.

“You feel like talking?” he asked.

“Not really. But that won’t stop you, will it?”

He blew out a one-huff laugh. “I’ve been thinking about this whole effort. I know the idea is to save the human species from extinction. But humans still exist in an infinite number of other universes, so does it really matter?”

She shrugged. “No one wants to die. So we fight to stay alive.”

“But it’s not like our species would really go extinct, right?”

“I don’t know. One time Armando tried explaining parallel universes to me, although I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know that much about the subject. Those universes we bridge to? I guess they don’t actually exist until we bridge there—until we observe them.”

Desmond tried unsuccessfully to grasp this concept. “That’s messed up. And it’s why I’m a biologist, not a physicist.”

“Each universe is just the result of a different version of our own history. Armando has a favorite quote: ‘We create history by observing it, rather than history creating us.’”

He sighed loudly and decided to change the subject. “I called my mom again today.”

“Yeah?”

“She’s handling all this pretty well. I told her I won’t give up on trying to get her an exemption on the age restriction. But she said it’s okay, as long as I get to go.” He shook his head. “She’s always been that way.”

Infinity didn’t respond, and Desmond realized he may have said the wrong thing.

“My dad died when I was five,” he said. “Are your parents still living?”

She shrugged slightly. “No idea.”

He decided he’d better not push it. He looked down at her hand resting on his knee. The faded SafeTrek tattoo was barely visible. Desmond glanced at his own SafeTrek tattoo on the back of his right hand. His was fresh. When he had officially been designated a bridger, Infinity had insisted he get the tattoo. All the SafeTrek bridgers had them. One of the med techs was an amateur tattoo artist and did them for free. Desmond put his hand on the painted bunting tattoo on her chest, which was definitely not done by an amateur. “You going to try to get this re-inked one last time before our final bridge?”

“Too late. My artist left for Texas to be with his kids. Besides, I doubt there will be a final bridge.”

“Why do you say that?”

She tilted her head forward and then back, thumping his chest like this was a stupid question. “Think about it. Our job is to find good worlds for each refugee group. SafeTrek is going to keep bridging new groups off this world until the last minute. Which will probably be when the generators give out or the building collapses in an earthquake. Chances are, that’ll happen during a bio-probe or while refugees are being bridged. Where does that leave you and me?”

He removed his hand from her tattoo. “Thanks for cheering me up.”

She thumped his chest again. “Well, here’s the way I look at it. For the first time in my life, I’m with someone I don’t mind dying with. And I’ll take that.”

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Author’s Notes for Bridgers 1

This story is based on the rather mind-bending concept of the possible existence of infinite parallel universes.

While there are certainly cosmologists who are skeptical of the concept, it is important to point out that multiple parallel universes is not a theory. Scientists did not simply come up with the idea using their imaginations. Instead, the concept is a mathematical consequence of our current theories in physics, particularly quantum mechanics and string theory. What this means, essentially, is that even those physicists who are skeptical of the idea must examine it as a real possibility (even if they do so reluctantly).

If we assume that quantum mechanics and string theory are not completely wrong, then it is important for scientists to examine all of the mathematical consequences of those theories. Even if those consequences (such as parallel universes) seem strange to us.

There are at least five plausible scientific theories that suggest the existence of multiple universes (the “multiverse”). My favorite of these is the concept of “daughter universes” suggested by the theory of quantum mechanics. Quantum mechanics describes things in terms of probabilities, rather than definite outcomes. The mathematics of quantum mechanics suggest that every possible outcome of every situation actually occurs—in its own separate universe.

Everything is made up of tiny particles, and what this “daughter universes” concept boils down to is that there could be infinite parallel universes, each of them differing by the position of only one particle.

The concept boggles the mind. But it certainly makes for a fun story.

Okay, so what about the idea of a world inhabited by large birds rather than large mammals? This is not as far-fetched as you might think. Sixty-six million years ago, the massive K-T extinction occurred as a result of an asteroid striking the earth. About 75% of all plant and animal species went extinct, including the non-avian dinosaurs (avian = bird-like).

However, the bird-like dinosaurs persisted. They evolved into the 10,000 or more bird species alive today. And some small species of mammals persisted. They evolved into the 5,400 species of mammals alive today. Sure, there are currently more birds than mammals, but mammals have filled most of the large-bodied carnivore and herbivore niches.

It’s not unreasonable to imagine that, in a do-over of the K-T extinction, those small mammals may not have made it. This definitely was a possibility. And if those mammals had gone extinct along with the non-avian dinosaurs, it is likely that the bird-like dinosaurs would have eventually filled the large-bodied carnivore and herbivore niches.

Would some of those birds have eventually become intelligent? I guess we’ll never know. Unless we someday develop a bridging device so that we can look at the results of numerous do-overs of the K-T extinction. In the meantime, I find it fun to speculate.

Acknowledgments

I am not capable of creating a book such as this on my own. I have the following people, among others, to thank for their assistance.

When it comes to editing, my son Micheal Smith is extremely talented, and his tireless and meticulous suggestions are invaluable. If you find a sentence or detail in the book that doesn’t seem right, it is likely because I failed to implement one of his suggestions.

My wife Trish is always the first to read my work, and therefore she has the burden of seeing my stories in their roughest form. Thankfully, she does not hesitate to point out where things are a mess. Her suggestions are what get the editing process started. She also helps with various promotional efforts. And finally, she not only tolerates my obsession with writing, she actually encourages it.

I also owe thanks to those on my Advance Reviewer team. They pointed out numerous typos and inconsistencies. Several went above and beyond, including Mandy Walkden-Brown, Sherri Rusch, Tammy Chambers, Lisa Ensign, Ilene Roberts, Linda Gray, Jack Waddington, Bridgit Davis, and Jenny Avery.

Finally, I am thankful to all the independent freelance designers out there who provide quality work for independent authors such as myself. Jake Caleb Clark (www.jcalebdesign.com) created the awesome cover for Bridgers 1: The Lure of Infinity. Najla (najlakay on fiver.com) created the cool map in the front matter of the book.

Copyright © 2018 by Stan C. Smith

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portraying in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

To those who think twice before sacrificing
what they know to be moral and just.

The Cost of Survival

You don’t get to decide who’s right and who’s wrong. No time for that. And it wouldn’t matter anyway, because that’s all made-up shit.

Infinity Fowler

1

Storm

August 24 - 9:54 AM

August could be hot in Missouri, but knowing there would never be another August in this place made it seem more tolerable. Infinity Fowler stopped at the base of a towering sycamore tree and stared up into the branches. When she spotted what she was looking for, she leapt up and hooked her fingers over the lowest limb and swung her legs up and over. Seconds later, she stood upright with her bare feet gripping the smooth-barked surface. She climbed another ten feet, carefully avoiding scratches to her bare skin, as she was wearing only shorts and a sports top.

Hitched to the main trunk with a piece of wire was a triangular trapeze handle attached to a steel cable, which in turn was fastened to a thick branch fifty feet higher. Infinity untwisted the wire to free the handle. She then focused her attention on a second trapeze handle forty feet away, dangling free from a another sycamore. It was just far enough for her momentum to swing her out to where she could grab it.

Infinity had built this workout station between bridging excursions the previous winter, when few tourists were willing to bridge to alternate versions of Earth during the cold months. It was one of eight stations she had hidden in the 400 acres of dense forest surrounding the main building of SafeTrek Bridging. This forest was where Infinity and the other bridgers trained tourists, although training was little more than giving them enough experience to be less likely to kill themselves on their thirty-six-hour excursion.

Infinity closed her eyes and visualized swinging out and catching the other handle. Falling was not an option—she was out here alone, and no one knew where she was.

An unexpected gust of wind caused her to totter, and she opened her eyes and grabbed a limb to steady herself. She looked up. Dark clouds were moving in. Abrupt weather changes like this were becoming frequent, and in just the past three weeks, the news that Earth was imploding had been promoted from disturbing prediction to indisputable fact. Predictions that the process would take years had been changed to months. All hell was breaking loose, in society as well as in nature.

But in this forest, Infinity was still able to find some calm.

She sucked in a lungful of muggy air and launched herself from the limb. She swung to the other cable and grabbed its handle. She jostled to a stop, suspended by both cables, one handle in each hand. Gazing at the endless green foliage, she systematically cleared her mind of all thoughts of violence and mayhem. This had always been difficult, because Infinity was a fundamentally violent person.

After hanging this way for over a minute, she grunted and drew the two handles closer together. She threw her knees up and inverted her body, feet toward the sky. With sweat already beading from the strain, she put her left foot through the triangle handle in her left hand and then her right foot through the handle in her right. She hooked her legs over the handles by bending her knees and let go with her hands. Hanging upside down, she crossed her arms at her chest and closed her eyes. This inverted meditation state was the only long-term habit she had kept from a brief exploration of Shaolin Kung Fu.

Heart to blood, muscle to bone, tourist flesh above my own.

With self-sacrifice near, my fuel is fear.

By bridger means and might, tourists will not fight.

I aspire to inspire before I expire.

Bide within the law I must, in untainted tourist trust.

The five principles of the bridgers’ creed always came to the surface of her thoughts in the first seconds of inverted meditation. Infinity had survived longer than any other bridger—nearly four years—and during that time, the principles had become woven into her identity. She had been plucked from a brutal existence in low-level professional fighting and given a chance to do something she could be proud of—protecting the lives of tourists.

But now the rules were changing.

Another blast of wind shoved her into a wobbly swing. She kept her eyes shut, trying to maintain her concentration. A faint roar gradually grew louder—a storm front was coming. The roar’s intensity increased, but it wasn’t just wind. Impacts on the foliage and the ground sounded like a kettle of popping corn. Still, Infinity held her eyes shut, determined to use the falling hail to her advantage. With any luck, the hailstones would be big enough to hurt. Pain was, after all, the path to self-discipline.

Pebbles of ice began pelting her legs and back, a prickly, mostly pleasant assault on her skin. Infinity smiled.

A deeper, more menacing roar materialized and drew nearer, forcing her to finally open her eyes. What the hell was it? Seconds later the onslaught was upon her. A much larger hailstone struck her knee. She cursed and glanced up at it. Blood was trickling from a gash in her skin.

Hailstones the size of apples pummeled the trees above and the ground below, and the leaves and twigs fell around her like confetti. A chunk of ice struck her shin, almost hard enough to crack the bone. She had to find shelter. Bending at the waist, she grabbed the two handles and struggled to pull her feet out.

A hailstone smashed into her forehead above her right eye, and she fell.

Infinity was barely aware of her reflexes taking over, twisting her body to avoid landing on her head. She fell fifteen feet and hit the ground on her side. A hailstone struck her hip and another hit her knee. Instinctively, she covered her head with her arms. Still dazed, she crawled to the base of the sycamore and pressed against the trunk for shelter.

The barrage of hail was deafening, but then an even more intense wave of sound approached, accompanied by the cracking of tree limbs. Wind blasted past Infinity, forcing the falling hailstones into a diagonal path. A nearby tree crashed to the ground, and she hugged the sycamore even tighter.

The massive trunk changed shape, its thickness bulging outward against her body. And then it exploded. The splintering wood assaulted Infinity’s senses like a bomb going off beside her. She rolled away from the tree and a fragment the size of her arm struck her shoulder as it flew from the fracturing trunk. The entire tree collapsed, taking down two others with it.

Hail pelted the ground around her, and more trees were falling. Infinity realized the only shelter was under the fallen sycamore, its thick trunk now held several feet above the ground by what remained of its largest branches. She crawled, taking a painful hit to her back before tucking herself beneath the trunk.

The storm raged on for what seemed like twenty minutes. Pulverized leaves and hailstones accumulated on the ground, creating seas of white and green between the shattered trunks of fallen trees.

And then the storm stopped, just as abruptly as it had started.

Infinity didn’t move until she saw shafts of sunlight illuminating the devastated forest. She rolled from beneath the tree and got up. Pink gashes dotted her skin, but otherwise she was okay. What about the SafeTrek building? And what about the 2,000 refugees and workers living in tents and campers beside the half-mile road leading to SafeTrek’s front door? Infinity took off toward the building. But the forest before her was now a wasteland. She had to pick her way over and around fallen trees.

Finally, she emerged from the ravaged forest onto the training field behind the facility. Normally mowed and manicured, it was now strewn with leaves, limbs, and manmade debris. The wooden picnic table was missing. SafeTrek’s block-like building appeared to be unharmed. Infinity wondered about the power generators on the roof. If they were destroyed, this would be a setback in SafeTrek’s efforts to save the human species from extinction. And it would almost certainly result in Infinity and the other bridgers dying along with everyone else.

She ran to the back door. The rock she had used earlier to keep the door from latching was gone, so the door was now locked. She headed around the east side of the building.

Hints of the destruction came into view as soon as she rounded the corner. And she could already hear cries of anguish and pain. When she came to the building’s front corner, she stopped. The scene before her was complete chaos. Nearly every tent, camper, bunkhouse trailer, food booth, and portable toilet was overturned or flattened. Debris was everywhere. And so were bodies. Refugees and workers who were unharmed were helping the injured, although some were standing in place or wandering around in shock.

“Infinity! I need your help.” It was Poppy Safran, one of the med techs.

Infinity ran to her side. Poppy was kneeling over a man with a bloodied face and body.

“I think his trachea is crushed,” Poppy said. “If you squeeze it right here in just the right way, he can get enough air. But I need to help others. There are so many, Infinity. I just… I have to help them.” Her eyes were wide, and tears streaked her face.

Infinity knelt beside her and took the man’s throat. “I’ve got it, Poppy. Go.”

Without another word, the med tech got up and ran toward the sound of several people screaming.

Infinity turned to the injured man. He was grasping desperately at her hand on his throat, unable to breathe. She squeezed, expanding the trachea, and air rushed into his lungs. The guy’s face was a mess, and it looked like he may have lost one of his eyes. Perhaps he’d been knocked out by one of the hailstones and then, lying unconscious, had taken the full force of twenty minutes of fist-sized chunks of ice.

“Just relax and breathe,” she said. “Panic will make it worse.”

There was no way the guy could speak, but apparently he could hear, because he loosened his grip on her wrist and slowed his breathing.

With her free hand, she guided his fingers to hers. “Listen to me,” she said firmly. “I want you to do this yourself. That way you can adjust the pressure as needed. Do you feel where my fingers are?”

He nodded slightly.

“Okay, I’m going to let go.” She pulled her hand away.

He choked for a moment and then got the pressure to where he could breathe.

“You’re going to be okay,” she said. “Now, stay calm and don’t move. More help will be here soon.”

She left him on the ground and walked to the road. A quarter mile away, the road curved to the left and out of sight behind the ravaged trees. But everything she could see in that quarter mile was at least partially destroyed. How many had been injured or killed? These people had been selected to be survivors of the human species, to be bridged to alternate worlds in groups of 718. The tragedy of this goddamn storm would be far greater than today’s deaths.

Ahead on the side of the road, a group of twenty or so people were rolling an overturned RV back onto its wheels. Once it was upright, several men yanked the door open and rushed inside to help the occupants. The others began dispersing to provide assistance elsewhere. Infinity recognized one of them just as he spotted her.

Desmond ran to her. “Infinity!” He looked like he was about to hug her, but then he stopped short. “I couldn’t find you in the building. I was afraid you were out training and got caught in the storm.” He then seemed to notice the gashes and mud covering her body. “I guess you did get caught in the storm.”

Desmond was Infinity’s new bridging partner. And she might have wanted him to be more to her than that if the world weren’t going to hell.

“I’m fine,” she said. “The National Guardsmen were supposed to be here three days ago! Where the hell are they? We’re eighteen miles from the nearest hospital and we don’t have the facilities or personnel to—”

“Doyle told us they’re on their way now,” he said.

Armando Doyle was Infinity’s boss and SafeTrek’s CEO. Or at least he had been until the government had taken control of the facility to bridge as many refugees to alternate worlds as possible.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Desmond said.

Infinity ignored this and stared out at the chaos. Shouts, crying, and the clattering of debris being moved came from every direction at once. “Where do we even begin?”

“Bridgers! Bridgers!”

They turned to see a woman in filthy clothes approaching. Blood was smeared on her face, but Infinity recognized her—Lorissa Allport. She was one of two scientists Infinity and Desmond had been training for the next bridging excursion to verify a habitable version of Earth.

“Thank God you two are okay,” Lorrisa said as she stopped before them. “We’re still on track for our excursion, right? Will this storm delay things?”

Infinity stared at her for a moment and then exchanged a glance with Desmond.

“Are you serious?” Desmond asked.

Lorissa looked at the ground briefly. “I don’t mean to appear callous, but I’d like to know if we’re still on schedule.”

2

Bio-probe

August 24 - 8:20 PM

Desmond stared at the painted concrete ceiling of his bunk room. Previously, he had considered the stark, utilitarian design of the SafeTrek building to be ugly and uninspired. But the structure had been built to endure almost anything, and after the freakish storm today—massive hail and 90 mph straight-line winds—Desmond had a new appreciation for the design.

He needed sleep. But there wasn’t a single aspect of his life that wasn’t careening balls-to-the-wall out of control. When he had bridged to another version of Earth a few weeks ago, he’d been tortured by bird-like creatures and had nearly died half a dozen times. Thanks to SafeTrek’s med techs, he was now quickly recovering. But how could he recover from what he now knew to be true? And from what he’d seen today?

Hours after the storm had devastated the makeshift city of refugees, nearly 2,000 members of the Army National Guard from Fort Leonard Wood and several other bases in Missouri had finally arrived. By that time, Desmond’s mind and soul had become numbed by his attempts at helping triage uncountable injuries. Some of the injuries defied explanation, including a seemingly-intact human brain he’d found lying in the grass beneath a mangled piece of camper siding. How was that even possible?

The storm had come with no warning. And as devastating as it had been, it was only one of many extreme weather events happening everywhere. Other places had seen much worse. Not only that, but other places were occupied by people with little hope. At least the refugees gathered here had been selected to bridge to alternate worlds. They had some chance of surviving the now-certain implosion of the planet. Desmond couldn’t even imagine the state of despair that must exist beyond the guarded boundaries of SafeTrek’s property.

He thought of his mom. She was still trying to live a normal life. Every day, she went to her office on the University of Kentucky campus, although students had stopped showing up over a week ago. Desmond had been trying to get her a spot in one of the refugee groups, but it was like shouting into a hurricane. Everyone on the planet wanted a spot. But he wasn’t going to give up.

Almost by accident, Desmond had become a bridger. He was now Infinity’s partner. SafeTrek had three pairs of bridgers. They used to protect the lives of tourists, but now their purpose was to find suitable worlds for colonies of 718 refugees per world.

He sighed, got up from his bunk, and stared into the mirror. He ran his fingers through several weeks of hair growth on his scalp. “You’re an imposter,” he said aloud.

He glanced at the clock. There was a mandatory meeting at 9:00 PM, but he had time to stop by and see Lenny and Xavier. He shoved his feet into his sandals and left his bunk room.

He found both of his friends in Lenny’s room.

“Come on in, Des,” Lenny said.

Lenny was sitting in the chair by the small desk, so Desmond sat on the bunk next to Xavier.

Xavier held out a white plastic flask. “It’s JD Black.”

Desmond stared at it. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I brought a couple with me,” Lenny said. “I figured we’d need a little after our excursion.” He shook his head. “I should’ve brought a lot more.”

Desmond looked his two college roommates over. They hadn’t even showered yet. Both were smeared with the blood of injured or dead refugees. They had both been hurt on a recent disastrous bridging expedition with Desmond and each still had a cast on one leg, but they had insisted on helping until the guardsmen had taken over.

“Give me that.” Desmond took the flask and allowed himself one swallow. He handed it back. “I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes, and then the bio-probe is returning at 1:00 AM.”

They stared at him, frowning.

“Freaking unbelievable,” Lenny said.

Desmond shook his head. “It’s not at all unbelievable. The generators and the bridging device are undamaged. I talked to Lorissa Allport today. She was more horrified that we might cancel the excursion than she was about the storm killing over a hundred of her refugee group.”

Xavier blew out a puff of air. “God almighty. This is worse than any nightmare.”

Lenny took the flask from Xavier and raised it up. “I envy you, Des. You’re guaranteed a position in a colony.” He took a drink.

“So are both of you,” Desmond said. “When your legs heal.”

Lenny swallowed and grimaced at the burn. “There may not be that much time left, brother.”

* * *

9:00 PM

When Desmond arrived at the meeting room, Infinity was waiting in the hall beside the open door. Like him, she had cleaned up. But in spite of her tough exterior and a lifetime of brutal fighting, there was a hollowness to her stare Desmond hadn’t seen before.

He stopped beside her and spoke softly. “Any tips for this meeting?”

“They may not care about our opinions. We’re only bridgers. But if they ask, tell them what you think. And if they don’t ask, tell them anyway.”

He waited for more. “That’s it?”

She shrugged. “This is all new territory.”

They entered the room and sat at the table.

It was a small group. Next to Armando Doyle was Celia Pickett, Doyle’s competent assistant. Next to her were Lorissa and Zachariah, the two scientists selected to determine the viability of the alternate world for the 718 refugees they represented. Finally, there was a fifty-something guy in a suit, no doubt from the federal government, since SafeTrek had been more-or-less commandeered by the Feds.

Once they were seated, Doyle gazed at Infinity. “Should I be concerned about you?”

She frowned slightly and shook her head.

There was an interesting connection between Infinity and the much-older Doyle that Desmond hadn’t quite figured out. At times, the SafeTrek CEO seemed to dote upon her, almost like a father would. Desmond hoped it was nothing more than that.

Doyle addressed the room. “It’s been a long day for all of us. But we have a bio-probe returning at 1:00 AM, and difficult decisions have to be made. It is my intent to hear all of your opinions and weigh them carefully as we move forward.”

The guy in the suit cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, Armando, I’m going to just tell the plain and unvarnished truth about our situation.”

Doyle sighed. “If you haven’t met him yet, this is Reece Eagleton, Regional Administrator of FEMA. He is the current liaison between the government and SafeTrek.”

“I will add,” Eagleton said, “that I am working under the direct orders of President Hayley Millright. Never in our nation’s history have Americans had to face anything like what we’re currently dealing with.”

“Everyone is facing this, not just Americans,” Infinity said. “Just tell us what we have to do.”

Eagleton pursed his lips for a moment. “Of course.” He then went on. “With every passing day, the disaster is magnified. Frankly, we have no idea how much longer our essential infrastructure will hold out. SafeTrek is one of three bridging facilities in the U.S.” He glanced at Infinity and added, “And one of seven around the globe. Building these facilities was a terrible mistake. For the record, I was against their construction from the beginning. But now, ironically, these facilities are the only hope for saving a small portion of the human race. A very small portion.”

Infinity actually slammed her hand on the table. But then she shook her head, apparently deciding not to say what she was thinking.

Eagleton glared at her. “You want me to get to the point? Alright. We’re running out of time. In spite of today’s disaster, there will be no delays. In fact, there will be no delays for as long as this facility continues to function. The moment we have a successful bio-probe, we will send an assessment team. The moment the team returns with news of a suitable world, we’ll begin sending refugees. This must happen as rapidly as possible.”

Desmond shifted in his seat, unsure he wanted to speak up but deciding he had to. “Today, 132 refugees from the next group in line were killed, and more were injured.”

Eagleton nodded. “We’ve already reconfigured by combining the survivors from both groups that were waiting outside. There are more than enough for the next colony. And in a few days, we’ll have two more groups on-site. And more after that. You keep the facility running, we’ll keep bringing all the refugees you can handle.”

“Can I say something?” It was Zachariah Thorp. “As a parasitologist, I’ve been assigned to help assess the suitability of a destination world.” He nodded toward Desmond and Infinity. “Lorissa and I will accompany these bridgers on the assessment excursion. It is my opinion that when we return from the excursion, I will need a significant amount of time to determine whether or not we have encountered harmful parasites.”

“I understand your concern,” Eagleton said, although with no trace of empathy. “After returning, you will be given sixty minutes to make a decision.”

Zachariah’s mouth fell open. “That’s outrageous! I can’t possibly—”

“I have to agree with Mr. Eagleton,” Lorissa said. “If there’s anything to be learned from the events of today, it is that time is crucial.”

Zachariah’s face reddened. “You don’t need time after we’ve returned because you’re an agricultural scientist. Your evaluation will be completed on-site.”

Eagleton held up his hands as if it would calm everyone. “Your concerns are noted. But I also want to point out that it is late August. Winter will be arriving in a few short months, not only here but on every world we send refugees to. The colonies will be starting with nothing. They will need time to prepare for winter.”

Eagleton paused as if making sure they understood the significance of this. “When the bio-probe returns later tonight, you’ll have sixty minutes to determine if the world is worth an exploratory excursion. After you return from the excursion, you’ll have sixty minutes to decide if the world is suitable for your refugees. And you can be assured of this: we are lowering the bar for what qualifies as a viable world.”

Infinity pushed her chair back and stood up. “Maybe you all need more of the truth. Everyone who stays here dies—you seem to understand that. But I’ve bridged to a shitload of alternate worlds. I’ve been lucky to survive every time. But only because I returned here, where we have good med equipment and great med techs. Now you want to bridge 718 people naked and empty-handed to an alternate world, and they have to stay there forever?” She let this question hang there as if daring them to formulate an answer. She then turned and left the room.

The meeting was over.

* * *

August 25 - 12:35 AM

The same group of people from the 9:00 PM meeting gathered in the viewing room adjacent to the bridging chamber. But no one seemed interested in conversing. Desmond was beyond tired, so perhaps the others were too.

Doyle seemed unusually somber, so his assistant Celia took over the explanations. “The bio-probe is a relatively simple concept,” she explained, although Desmond was pretty sure Lorissa and Zachariah already knew what a bio-probe was. “Basically, the device randomly selects one world from an infinite array of alternate worlds. The only thing we select is the divergence point, or how far back in time the destination universe diverged from our own. Once we have a world and a divergence point, we bridge six pairs of test animals: Dorset sheep, domestic cats, rabbits, guinea pigs, rats, and mice. Thirty-six hours later, the twelve test animals automatically bridge back to this chamber, regardless of their location on the other world, and regardless of their physical state. If they return alive, that indicates the world is habitable by mammals.”

Desmond noticed Doyle was gazing with raised brows at the FEMA guy, Eagleton. Eagleton shrugged and nodded.

“Excuse me, Celia,” Doyle said. He then faced the two scientists. “Normally we don’t reveal this information until after you have signed nondisclosure agreements. But none of that really matters now.”

He went on to explain what the general public did not know, that the technology behind the bridging devices was not human technology. It had come from the extraterrestrial radio signal discovered five years ago, sent from the mysterious alien race now known as the Outlanders. In other words, humans really had no idea how the devices worked.

Not surprisingly, this was met with shock then disbelief and then anger. But the overall tone of the discussion was quite different from how it had taken place over three weeks ago when Desmond, Lenny, and Xavier had learned this disturbing news. That had been a different time, when excursions were optional and humans thought they had all the time in the world.

When Zachariah and Lorissa seemed finally to come to grips with this revelation, it was followed by news regarding a second radio signal, which had been discovered only three weeks ago. The second signal had been transmitted by yet another extraterrestrial civilization, and it contained a warning. Unfortunately, Earth’s radio telescopes had discovered the first signal before discovering the second. The second signal would have warned humans that constructing and activating bridging devices created an unusual and very dense type of submicroscopic particle, which would begin a chain reaction that couldn’t be stopped. But now it was too late. These particles had drifted to the planet’s core, causing every other particle they touched to disappear, perhaps bridging them to other universes. This was gradually diminishing the planet’s core. The early symptoms were earthquakes, extreme weather events, and disruption of the magnetosphere. The final symptoms were uncertain, but it didn’t take much imagination to realize the planet’s core would gradually disappear. Gravity would collapse the crust to fill the void. This was already happening but would soon escalate to unimaginable intensity.

It could only be assumed that the Outlanders’ radio signal had been designed intentionally to destroy other civilizations. It offered an irresistible technology as bait, and humans had taken it hook, line, and sinker. The only escape was the very technology that was destroying the earth.

The already grim mood in the room devolved into wretched despondency.

“It’s almost time,” Celia said. She pointed to the thick plexiglass that separated them from the bridging chamber. “The test animals will appear in the center of the chamber, just above the floor.”

They all stepped toward the window and waited silently.

The plexiglass bulged outward slightly, and then the animals appeared and fell to the floor. The first few seconds were chaotic as the hairless, frightened creatures scrambled over each other and scattered, some of them running headlong into the walls.

Desmond kept his eyes on the floor in the center of the chamber. Only one test animal remained there, motionless. Perhaps it had been a rabbit, although it was hard to tell. Now it was a pile of white bones and dark, formless flesh.

The airlock hatch opened, and techs in white biosuits poured into the chamber to catch and examine the panicked animals.

Armando Doyle seemed to perk up. “Excellent! A highly-successful bio-probe. This makes the decision quite easy. We will begin preparing for you to bridge at 7:00 AM.”

“No,” Eagleton said forcefully. “This is not a tourist excursion. We don’t have time to wait six hours. The bridge will take place in sixty minutes.”

Doyle shook his head. “That’s not a prudent—”

Infinity turned away from the window and glared menacingly at Eagleton. “Maybe you don’t understand how this works. We’re bridging to another version of our own planet. Same time, same place. But we have no idea what we’ll encounter there. If you want us to arrive there in the dark at two in the morning, then you’re coming with us. You willing to do that?”

Eagleton’s eyes narrowed and his face darkened. “Young lady, perhaps you don’t realize the urgency—”

“That’s the goddamn deal!” She stepped toward him, and Eagleton’s eyes widened. “If you want to come, we bridge in an hour. If not, how about you let those who know what they’re doing make this decision.”

Lorissa said, “Um, Infinity, whatever we can do to speed this up—”

“Stop talking, tourist!” Infinity continued glaring at Eagleton, her muscles tensed like she was ready to pounce. If Eagleton had seen the things Desmond had seen Infinity do, he’d proceed with caution.

Doyle wisely spoke up. “I’m supporting Infinity on this, Reece. She’s a damn good bridger, and she knows better than to bridge into darkness.”

Desmond’s eye caught movement beyond the plexiglass. One of the white-suited techs was waving his arm to get their attention.

Doyle stepped over and pressed a button on the wall, activating the comm system.

“Cursory examination reveals good physical health in all but one test-animal, sir,” the tech said. “One rabbit appears to have been butchered.”

Doyle glanced at Infinity and back to the tech. “Butchered?”

“I could be wrong, but the carcass shows signs of cutting with a sharpened tool. The meat was removed from the bones. But all the others appear unharmed. No signs of extreme temperatures, submersion in water, or excessive UV radiation.”

Again Doyle turned to Infinity. “What do you think?”

“Sir, there’s one other thing,” the tech said. “The larger animals—the sheep, cats, and remaining rabbit—all show signs of restraint. Bruising and lacerations around the neck. Perhaps a rope or cord of some kind.”

Infinity sighed loudly and rubbed the short hair on the back of her scalp. She gazed at Desmond.

Having gone on only one excursion, Desmond was hardly a real bridger. His opinion probably wouldn’t matter. But he suspected they’d have little choice anyway—these were desperate times. So he nodded to Infinity.

She sighed again and turned to Doyle. “Okay.” Then she shot a glance at Eagleton. “We’ll bridge at 7:00 AM.”

3

Neverland

August 25 - 6:40 AM

Infinity downed the last of the water in her bottle as she and Desmond passed through the air lock to the lab adjacent to the bridging chamber. She glanced at Desmond’s bottle. “Finish that now, otherwise you’ll lose most of it when we bridge.”

For reasons humans didn’t understand, substances that weren’t part of the body disappeared during the bridging process. This included food and water that had been ingested but hadn’t had time to enter the cells. That’s why there was no point in eating breakfast before bridging. Infinity hadn’t eaten since the previous morning—there hadn’t been time. So she was already hungry, which was a lousy way to start a thirty-six-hour excursion.

Wraith and Trencher were in the lab, pulling on their clothes. The two bridgers had just completed three days of mandatory chemo-cleansing and patho-cleansing. They were finishing the same process Infinity and Desmond were about to begin: bridging to a world that had returned a positive bio-probe, spending thirty-six hours confirming the world’s viability, and then immediately bridging back to the same world for another thirty-six hours, during which 718 refugees were bridged to the world twenty at a time. Doing two excursions back-to-back was insane. But this was the new job bridgers had been given. And it would continue that way until the end.

“Bridgers,” Infinity said as she approached them. She leaned forward. Wraith leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers, and then Trencher did the same. This ritual had been started a few years ago by a bridger named Hornet. It was an unspoken acknowledgement of the skill and resolve of any bridger returning alive. The ritual lived on, even though Hornet had eventually returned from an excursion half eaten by a predator.

Infinity looked them over. “No serious injuries. Was it a neverland?”

A neverland was what bridgers called any alternate world that was free of danger and hardships—a paradise, in other words. Unfortunately, none of them had ever actually found one.

Wraith grunted and shook his head. “Divergence point of two hundred years, so definitely human-occupied. We found a gravel road, but there were no recent tracks on it, and we never saw a vehicle or anything else come by.”

Trencher pulled a faded SafeTrek t-shirt on over his head. “We never saw another soul. As far as we knew, the zombie apocalypse could have happened during the last two hundred years and wiped them all out. Babysitting each refugee group as they arrived didn’t give us a chance to scout out very far.”

Wraith said, “I swear to God, Infinity, every one of them had the dry heaves after bridging. Twenty at a time. Another fresh group every hour.” He shook his head. “Damn.”

“We had no choice but to leave them all there,” Trencher added. “They’ve got some good people in their group, but I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

“And we never will,” Infinity said. “You guys did what you could.” She then turned to Desmond, who was now standing beside her. “I think you’ve met my new partner, Decay.”

“You can just call me Desmond,” he said.

Wraith and Trencher nodded but didn’t say anything, which pissed Infinity off a little. She could see it in their eyes—they wondered why Desmond had suddenly been made a bridger. Like Infinity, they had both had years of hand-to-hand combat training and experience. Desmond hadn’t, and he didn’t look much like a bridger. But he had surprised Infinity with his ingenuity and guts. And he had saved her life. So she really didn’t care what the other bridgers thought.

Wraith turned back to Infinity. “Good luck, sister. I hope you get a neverland.”

“Damn right,” Trencher added. “You’re due for one.”

Infinity nodded and turned away. She was definitely due for a neverland. She had lost her partner in each of her last two excursions, one to a poison dart and one to a predator.

Armando was escorting the two tourist-scientists through the airlock, and when they cleared the second hatch, they joined Infinity and Desmond at the hatch to the bridging chamber.

As he often did before sending bridgers and tourists to their possible deaths, Armando attempted to be cheerful. He clapped his hands together and glanced at his watch. “All right, then! I trust you’ve all had your radioisotope doses?”

He was talking about technetium-99m, the radioisotope marker. Each person bridging had to have both an injection and an oral dose of the stuff. No one knew exactly how, but its radioactive decay triggered the bridging device to pull you back to your own world after exactly thirty-six hours and 3.6 seconds.

They all nodded. Zachariah and Lorissa both looked pale. At least they were smart enough to be scared. Infinity had been assigned tourists in the past who were too stupid to know what they were really getting themselves into. She was proud of the fact that she had kept every one of the idiots alive until bridge-back.

Zachariah said, “Perhaps a bit of levity is in order. What did the male bacteria say to the female bacteria?” He forced a stupid-looking grin. “Let's convert our potential energy to kinetic energy.”

In the silence that followed, Infinity wondered how this pudgy academic would handle the excursion, especially if things went south. He had pleasantly surprised her a few times during training, but that was training.

He chuckled awkwardly. “Hello? Is antibody out there?”

Again, silence.

“Sorry,” he said. “I have no resistance to a dose of microbiological humor.”

Finally, Armando slapped the tourist on the shoulder. “You’re going to be an asset to the team, Dr. Thorp! God knows, Infinity could use some of your humor. She’s wound a bit tight.”

Infinity glared at him and made an exaggerated nod down toward his watch.

“Of course,” Armando said. “It’s nearly time.” He looked around like he was about to reveal a secret. “Eagleton was hesitant to pass through the airlock. A bit of a hypocrite, if you ask me. Since he’s not here, I’d like to encourage you to consider choosing a world with a more recent divergence point.”

Desmond said it first. “We’ve already done the bio-probe for this world. It would cost us thirty-six hours to start over and probe another world. I thought Eagleton was all about saving time.”

Armando nodded. “He is. But I’m not convinced he understands the potential benefits of a world with a more recent divergence point. Perhaps if you all insist, he will allow a delay for an additional bio-probe.”

This had all been considered already. The reasoning was that a world with a recent divergence point would be almost identical to this world, and therefore it would have houses and buildings for shelter. And it was reasonable to think that a group of 718 refugees might be accepted and allowed to integrate into the existing society. An unpredictable and dangerous wilderness was fine for wealthy tourists seeking adventure, but not a great place to start a colony of naked humans. Actually, choosing a recent divergence point should have been a no-brainer. But in reality, except for Wraith’s and Trencher’s recent colony, most of the refugee groups were voting not to do this. There was something about human nature—an overwhelming will to be unique, to be special. When faced with the choice, refugees were choosing to risk hostile wilderness conditions in order to start their own isolated colony in a universe where humans had never existed. In Infinity’s opinion, this self-righteous human trait would cost the lives of entire colonies.

“We can’t do that,” Lorissa said. “The colony has voted. And they voted again last night with the new replacement members. The result was decisive. A divergence point of 210,000 years. We want to be the only humans there.”

Infinity wasn’t sure what to think of Lorissa. She had done fine in training, but she displayed a strange mix of trying to be fiercely independent while obviously craving attention. She had personal-space issues. And she sure as hell was in a hurry to leave this world behind forever.

“Are you all in agreement?” Armando asked. He looked from one of them to the next. Zachariah and Lorissa nodded, Desmond shrugged, and Infinity just glared at him. She knew her opinion wasn’t really going to matter. Armando sighed and then gestured to the open airlock hatches of the bridging chamber. They all stepped through.

Celia came in with four zippered garment bags, and they each removed their clothes and stuffed them into the bags. Infinity and Desmond had already forced the two tourists to train in the nude, so they were past the awkward-resistance phase. Celia went through the usual instructions. What it boiled down to was: follow every goddamn order from your bridgers during the first minutes after bridging. The first few minutes were critical and always confusing.

Infinity positioned the tourists a few feet apart and then faced them. “Here’s the real deal. You’ll drop a few inches to the ground, maybe more. And the ground may be sloped. Be ready for it so you don’t fall. You’ll land on your feet. But then you’re going to want to throw up, although nothing much will come out. It’s normal, so don’t sweat it. Decay and I will assess the surroundings and decide the first course of action. Keep your mouths shut and do what we say. That’s it.”

They both nodded.

Celia gathered the clothes bags and left the chamber.

“Good luck to you all,” Armando said. “We’ll have your colony ready to bridge when you return.” He then put his hand on Infinity’s shoulder. “Come back alive, kiddo.”

Armando had been using that nickname more often lately—not a good sign. She ignored it and nodded. “I hope there’s something here for us to come back to.”

He left the chamber, and one of the techs sealed the hatch.

“One minute,” Celia said over the comm.

Infinity turned again to the tourists. “Put your arms out like this. It helps with the body scan and with your balance. Now bend your knees slightly—you’re about to drop to the ground.”

As the seconds passed, Infinity watched their faces. They were scared. She glanced at Desmond. His stance was good, and he appeared focused.

“Why do bacteria like nitrates so much?” Zachariah asked.

Silence.

“They're cheaper than day rates.”

And then the bridging chamber was gone.

4

Fence

August 25 - 7:00 AM

Following a prickly, gooey sensation on his skin, Desmond dropped no more than a foot onto solid ground. He’d been expecting a more violent impact, because he’d suffered a broken nose the only other time he had bridged out. He wavered on his feet for a moment before gaining his balance. The first thing he noticed was that it was pouring rain. Heavy drops pelted his scalp, which was now devoid of hair.

“Everyone okay?” Infinity asked, although her voice was almost drowned out by the pounding rain.

“I’m fine,” Desmond said, and then he doubled over and retched. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Lorissa and Zachariah were doing the same thing.

“We’re in an open grassy area,” Infinity said, not waiting for the other two to answer. She turned. “Oh, shit! Large mammals. They’re coming at us.”

Desmond straightened up and looked. The creatures were less than a hundred yards away, coming at a trot. At least fifty of them. He rubbed the rain from his eyes and squinted. “They’re ungulates of some kind. Hoofed mammals.”

“They don’t look like predators,” she said.

Perhaps they weren’t predators, but they were as big as horses, and now they were running. Desmond swung around. They were in a grassy field with no shelter nearby. Then he noticed something in the distance, almost obscured by the falling rain. It took a moment for him to realize it was a fence. But then the thunderous pounding of hooves approaching behind him pulled his attention back to the immediate threat.

“You three—gather into a group!” Infinity cried.

Lorissa and Zachariah were still doubled over, but they stood up and huddled against Desmond.

“Heavens to Betsy!” Zachariah muttered in Desmond’s ear as the pounding hooves grew even louder.

Infinity put herself between them and the hurtling beasts. Just as the creatures were almost upon them, she thrust out both her hands and yelled, “Stop!”

Astoundingly, just before trampling over her, the creatures did stop. Then they fanned out and surrounded the huddled group. Snuffling and grunting, they stared at the naked, hairless humans from only a few feet away. Their loose, prehensile lips flapped open and shut, producing a wet, popping sound. With every one of them doing this, the constant popping was louder than the splattering rain.

Desmond released the two scientists, but Lorissa’s arm was around his neck and she was reluctant to let go. “It’s okay, I think they’re harmless,” he said. Still he had to grab her wrist and peel her arm off. He gazed at the surrounding creatures. They had large eyes and small ears. Their feet were split into two hoof-like toes. “They’re camels,” he said. “Or at least related to camels.”

“What do they want?” Zachariah asked. “I’m feeling a little exposed here.” He was standing with his hands cupped over his groin.

The camels were inching closer, and a pair of lips actually touched Desmond’s arm. He resisted the urge to push the thing’s face back, fearing he might infuriate it.

“Stand up straight,” Infinity ordered. “Be defiant and don’t back down.”

“These are domesticated animals,” Lorissa said. “Livestock. Look at their necks.”

Desmond hadn’t noticed before, but around each creature’s neck was a twisted wire cord. And attached to the wire was a three-inch metal tag. All the animals’ tags appeared to be of the same design. They had been formed into a shape that resembled a fish.

Lorissa extended a hand and cautiously patted one of them on the snout. It responded by slopping her fingers with its wet lips. Suddenly a bulging pink mass sagged out the side of it’s mouth. “You’re right,” she said. “These are definitely camels. That thing looks like a tongue, but its actually called a dulla. Male camels have them.”

A high-pitched call rose above the rain and the flapping camel lips, like a child shouting, “Oak-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee! Oak-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee!”

In unison, the camels stopped popping their lips and raised their heads to look. With the mass of bodies surrounding them, Desmond couldn’t see anything. The camels all took off toward the sound, some of them actually shouldering the humans aside in their haste.

“Heavens to Betsy!” Zachariah exclaimed again.

Desmond followed Zachariah’s gaze. A few hundred feet away stood three more camels. But these were festooned with ropes and tack, and saddles were fastened behind the creatures’ necks at the base of their domed backs. Straddling each saddle was a human-like creature, although definitely not Homo sapiens. These hominids were smaller, with nearly-round faces due to an almost complete lack of forehead and only a thin mat of hair on their scalps. Their skin was dark, and they were naked from the waist up, although they wore pants that ended just below their knees. Gleaming bands of copper-colored metal adorned their wrists and upper arms, and more copper ornaments hung from their necks. One of them was a female, her breasts protruding on either side of her ornaments.

As the herd of camels cleared the area around Desmond’s group, one of the male riders seemed to notice the humans standing there, and he pointed.

Just as the camels began gathering around them, the riders leaned to the side in their saddles, wheeling their camels around, and took off. The riderless camels ran after them.

“This isn’t what we were hoping for,” Infinity said.

Desmond watched the riders as they became increasingly obscured by the falling rain. Beyond them he saw the faint outlines of a dozen or more domed roofs. Thick smoke rose from two points within this cluster of structures.

“Do you think they’re aggressive?” Zachariah asked.

Infinity wiped rainwater from her face. “Everything’s aggressive when startled. And we just startled them. If you want a world that isn’t occupied by humans or something human-like, then we’ve failed. We need to hide from them and stay hidden until bridge-back tomorrow night. Then we can bio-probe another world.”

Lorissa’s eyes widened. “We can’t give up already! I know it’s not what we wanted, but maybe these people are friendly. They may even help our colony—maybe teach us how to raise these animals, or perhaps how to farm here.”

Desmond looked at Lorissa. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he simply stated what he knew. “There’s a town or village over there. That’s where they’re headed.” Then he turned and pointed the other direction. “And there’s a fence over that way. And now I see there’s another fence that way.” He pointed to his left. “We must be in an enclosure for their camels—a pasture.”

“Which means we’re in a cage,” Infinity added. “If they return with weapons or reinforcements, the fence will slow our escape. There are trees beyond that fence. That’s where we’re going. Let’s move.”

Zachariah turned to go, but Lorissa stayed put.

Desmond saw the fire in Infinity’s eyes and decided he’d better help. “Lorissa, we’re not giving up. We’re just being prudent. We’ll get to a safer place, and then we’ll be in a better position to evaluate these people. Understand?”

“I agree with the bridgers, Lorissa,” Zachariah said. “This is why they’re here with us.”

Her face was strained, and she blinked water out of her eyes, but it was hard to tell if it was tears or rain. Finally, she nodded.

They began making their way to the fence.

The fence was farther than Desmond had thought. And as they approached it, he realized its unusual height had played a part in that illusion. When they finally stopped, it towered above them, perhaps twelve feet high. It was made of horizontal timbers no more than three inches apart, many of them sawed lengthwise so that they were roughly uniform in thickness. Their ends were fitted firmly into holes cut into massive vertical posts protruding from the ground about every six feet.

“This is overkill,” Zachariah said. “It’s much more than they’d need to keep the camels in.”

Infinity was looking up. “That’s not its only purpose.”

With the horizontal slats so close together, Desmond hadn’t noticed that the top of the fence on the far side extended outward several feet. And protruding down from this lip were countless sharpened spikes. The spikes were so close together that it would be extremely difficult to climb over from the other side.

“It’s not just here to keep the camels in,” Lorissa said. “It’s to keep something out.”

Desmond gazed down the fence to his right. A short distance away, something was mounted atop one of the vertical posts. He headed toward it and the others followed. As he got closer, he realized it was a skull. They stopped beneath it.

“This is getting worse by the minute,” Infinity muttered.

Although it was high above them, the skull was obviously human-like. But it was larger than a human skull, at least twice the mass. Desmond felt an uneasy prickling on his neck and scalp.

Zachariah pointed. “There are more of them.”

He was right. Another skull was mounted atop a post about fifty yards away, and more were spaced out along the fence beyond that. The skulls were arranged so that they faced out toward the forested hills beyond.

Desmond looked at Infinity. A scowl and shake of her head indicated she didn’t like this any more than he did.

A faint roar rose above the pelting rain. They all turned at once and saw the herd of camels approaching at full speed. And with them were several dozen riders.

5

Hominids

August 25 - 7:35 AM

The situation defied Infinity’s instinctive impulses. The hominids were coming at them hard, waving what were obviously bows and other weapons. She needed to get the tourists out of harm’s way. But the tourists needed to know if the hominids were capable of being friendly or even helpful. From the looks of them at this moment, friendly and helpful were unlikely.

Infinity turned to the fence. It wouldn’t be hard to climb this side, but getting down the far side would be a bitch. And so, against her intuition, she said, “Raise your hands above your heads! Do nothing to scare them or make them mad. Don’t frown, look at them funny, or yell. Be the most docile, cooperative creatures they’ve ever seen. Got it?”

Desmond nodded.

“Got it,” Zachariah said.

“I’ll try,” Lorissa said.

And then the camels and riders were upon them. Again, the riderless camels gathered around, their slobbering lips flapping open and shut. But it was the human-like creatures Infinity was worried about. One of them called out in its high voice. When the gathering of camels didn’t budge, several of the hominids urged their mounts forward, forcing the riderless camels to disperse. Infinity, Desmond, and the two tourists were suddenly face to face with the human-like creatures.

“Get your hands up,” she reminded the others.

Naked, hairless, and soaking wet, they stood there in the rain. The next seconds would be life or death.

The small beings stared at the humans while the camels beneath them restlessly shuffled back and forth. The hominids were even smaller than Infinity had thought from a distance, probably half her weight or less. They wore knee-length shorts made of brightly-colored cloth. Other than leather moccasins held on with cords tied around their ankles, they wore no other clothing. But each creature had copper bands around its arms and ankles and several copper doodads hanging from its neck. The only hair visible was a tightly-kinked mat of black covering their scalps, and their skin was a light bronze color.

The creatures hadn’t yet attacked, but they were certainly equipped to. Each of them carried at least one weapon. Perhaps five of them had a short, thick bow that looked capable of high-velocity shots. Some of them carried a mace-like weapon, but instead of a solid hammer, the copper business end had flat, elongated blades protruding in four directions. Each blade had sawtooth-like points. Those that didn’t carry a mace or bow held an axe with a wooden handle and copper blade. About half the creatures were female, and the females wore the same clothing and carried the same weapons as the men. Based on this fact alone, Infinity decided she’d give these creatures the benefit of the doubt, at least until they decided to attack.

She watched their faces, trying to read their intent. Like the rest of their bodies, their round faces were small, only half the size of a human face. With their large, round eyes, these creatures reminded Infinity of a doll she had once found on a playground, the only doll she’d ever owned.

She hoped she didn’t have to kill very many of these small people.

The hominids started talking to each other, their voices scratchy but still high, like a child with a sore throat. Their language was filled with wavering and twittering sounds, unlike any language Infinity had heard on previous excursions. It almost sounded like they were singing to each other.

“My arms are getting tired,” the tourist, Zachariah, said. “Can I put them down now?”

Before Infinity could answer, Desmond said. “We’ll wait until we know it’s safe. So suck it up.”

Not a bad answer.

Several of the hominids commanded their camels to kneel, and they climbed off without taking their eyes off Infinity’s group. When they stood up, they were the height of her belly button, just over three feet.

One of them, a male, approached the humans. Several of the others still mounted on their camels drew back their bows, apparently as a threat in case the humans tried to harm the tiny man. He stopped several feet away and stared, his eyes roaming over their naked bodies.

He spoke. “Nee-a-na-na-na. Yah-nee-nee-nee.” There was a flutter within each of the sounds, again reminding Infinity of a singing child.

She glanced over at Desmond. He had surprised her on their previous excursion with his ability to exactly recall sequences of sounds. Apparently he had extraordinary memory for certain things. Desmond nodded, turned to the small man, and repeated the same sounds back, although his deeper voice made them difficult to match.

The small man looked over his shoulder at his companions. The nearest one, a female, skirted around the group and began climbing the fence next to the support post with the weathered skull at the top. When she reached the skull, she pried it off. Holding it in one hand by sticking her fingers in the spinal cord opening at its base, she brought it back down. She carried it to the man who had approached the humans and held it out. The skull was obviously from a human-like creature, but it was much larger than a human skull. Next to these miniature people, it looked even larger. At least four of their heads could fit in the space taken up by this single skull.

The man looked at the skull and looked at the humans. He spoke to the woman and she cautiously approached Desmond, who was closest to her. She raised the skull up, holding it as close to Desmond’s head as she could.

Desmond leaned down to where his head was beside it. The skull was about four inches taller and wider than his. “You’re right,” he said to the tiny woman in a gentle, non-threatening voice. “It’s too big. We’re not the same species as your enemy. We’re not here to hurt you.”

Desmond’s assumption that the creatures with massive skulls were the enemy of these people was probably correct. But Infinity had a habit of looking at all possible threats. These small people might hunt the larger creatures for sport or food. In which case her group was probably in serious trouble. She decided to watch for an opportunity to demonstrate that the humans could be useful, or perhaps too dangerous to try to kill. Although, based on the size of the skulls mounted on the fence, these tiny people were proficient at killing creatures much larger than themselves.

The hominids began jabbering to each other, including those still mounted on their camels. Twittering, singsong phrases came from all directions, a confusing but also mesmerizing conversation. This was probably the critical moment—they were deciding what to do with the strange new creatures that had appeared in their pasture.

“Homo floresiensis,” Zachariah said. “Or something close to it. Floresiensis were only about as tall as these guys.”

“Hardly possible,” Desmond replied. “Homo floresiensis have been found only on one island in Indonesia.”

“But they were capable of getting to that island in the first place, weren’t they? Is it unreasonable to think they could have flourished in the last 210,000 years and traveled by boat to North America? Maybe on this version of Earth they spread out to every continent and became the dominant hominid worldwide. These things obviously have metallurgy, at least with copper.” Zachariah nudged Desmond’s arm. “I think we should call them halflings. That sounds appropriate, don’t you think?”

Desmond said, “They’re only a third of our mass. Perhaps we should call them thirdlings.”

Zachariah nodded his approval.

Impatient, Infinity grunted in disgust. “This is what you guys want to talk about now when these things are deciding if they’re going to kill us?”

Zachariah gazed at the small people—the thirdlings—and shook his head. “They look friendly enough to me. I think as long as we—”

He was cut off by a sudden uneasy braying and stamping of hooves from the camels. One of the thirdlings let out a long, wavering cry and pointed to the fence. They all turned to look. Infinity saw them immediately—two creatures standing upright, peering through the gaps between the wood slats. It was hard to see details, but the creatures looked large, even though they were hunched over.

One of them stuck its hand through a gap in the slats, pointing toward Infinity and the other humans. A growling scream rose from its throat, which was joined by a similar scream from the other creature beside it. The two went into a rage, pounding the fence and jumping up and down, all the while grunting and screaming.

Infinity looked at the thirdlings to gauge their reaction. Three of the riders with bows guided their camels over to the fence. They yelled at the creatures and nocked their arrows like they were preparing to fire at them through the slats. This seemed to enrage the creatures even more, and again they pointed through the fence at the humans.

“My God,” Lorissa said. “What if we had bridged to the other side of that fence?”

“They’re hominids, too,” Zachariah said. “But I can’t imagine which species they descended from. They’re enormous.”

The two screaming creatures were joined by three more, probably drawn by the ruckus. The newcomers spotted the humans through the fence and joined their companions in showing raw fury. One of them started climbing the fence. The thirdlings yelled again, but the creature ignored them. One thirdling shot at it. The arrow drilled into one of the wood slats and stopped. Another guided his camel to within a few feet of the fence and shot an arrow through the slats. The climbing creature paused and screamed even louder. But then it kept climbing. It was coming over the fence.

Mounted thirdlings waited for it to clear the top, their bows ready. There was little chance the larger creature could make it over the fence and to the ground alive, but it kept coming anyway, growling and spitting. It forced its way through the spike-riddled lip of the fence and managed to get its head over the top.

Infinity watched the infuriated creature as it stared down at her. It was similar to the neanderthal descendants she had encountered several excursions back, but more than twice the size.

She then realized this creature might offer an opportunity to show the thirdlings that she and her companions could be useful. The thirdlings with bows were taking aim at the creature, waiting for it to pull its body up into full view. She had to act now.

She raised her arms. “Wait! Don’t kill it.” Cautiously, she stepped to the nearest thirdling and pointed at the bladed mace in the little woman’s hand. In spite of her small size, her mace was plenty large enough to suit Infinity’s purpose. “Can I please borrow it?” She asked in the friendliest voice she could manage.

The huge creature was emerging from the spikes onto the top of the fence. The mounted thirdlings were ready to shoot it, but they seemed interested in what Infinity was doing.

“Please, I swear I’ll give it back.” She held her hand out and curled her fingers twice.

One of the other thirdlings spoke, and the woman before her handed over her weapon.

Infinity smiled at her, although she had no idea what smiling meant to these people.

“Are you crazy?” Desmond asked.

She ignored him and darted over to the fence as the massive creature swung its legs over the top. She held her arms up to the thirdlings with bows. “Please don’t shoot!”

Her plan was to surprise the giant just as its feet touched the ground. But as she turned back to the fence, the creature released its grip and dropped ten feet. It hit the ground facing her, snarling and enraged. Her chance for surprise had vanished.

Without hesitating, the massive creature charged her. She had no time to do anything but drop down and to the side to avoid being tackled. As she rolled away, she swiped at its leg with the mace. The weapon was nearly pulled from her grip as one of the serrated blades caught skin like a fish hook and then ripped through it.

The surprised creature stopped and spun around to face her again. Instead of immediately charging, it paused to study her—a sign of intelligence. Or perhaps it was just startled by its new wound.

The creature was brown-skinned, with more body hair than the thirdlings, although Infinity had seen human men far hairier than this. It wore shorts made of animal leather—covering just enough to protect its vulnerable crotch. Brown hair grew loose and unkempt from its scalp, but it had no facial hair. Its massive head was heavy and brutish, with a thick neck. Infinity had fought a number of different hominid opponents, but none as beefy and fierce as this. Luckily, it was injured. The arrow that had been shot through the fence protruded from the middle of its chest. It was bleeding in several places from the fence spikes, and now it had a nasty gash on its lower leg.

Infinity glanced at the thirdlings. They were ready to shoot the creature at any moment, although their small arrows might not kill it before it wreaked some serious havoc.

The giant’s companions were still growling as they watched through the fence, apparently not as eager to climb over.

The creature crouched, ready to lunge. Infinity envisioned several possible moves, but she would have to be quick. This was not an opponent she could take to the ground and grapple with. It could probably crush her skull between its hands. The question was, would it fight like an animal or like a human?

It came at her, surprisingly fast for its size.

In a fraction of a second, Infinity read its movements and chose a move. The creature barreled straight for her face, like an animal would. There was no grace or strategy.

So Infinity attacked the way a matador would attack a bull. She left her head and torso—the beast’s target—in place until the last possible moment. Instead of risking repeating the same roll-away move, she leapt upward and to the side. As expected, the creature tried to grab her as its momentum carried it past. She brought the mace down on its forearm, a solid slashing blow.

The creature spun around and immediately charged again, howling with rage or pain. This time she went back to her original roll-away move and slashed the creature’s ankle from behind, hoping to damage its Achilles tendon. Again, the weapon was nearly torn from her grip.

The giant howled even louder and went down. It tried getting up, but apparently the tendon was severed. Screaming and spitting, it scrambled toward Infinity. It was still dangerous, but now Infinity definitely had the advantage. She shot to her left and then rushed in and landed a blow to the side of its head, opening up a ten-inch gash and mangling its ear.

The creature screamed again and grasped its head. Infinity took this opportunity and landed two more blows to its head. She jumped back just as it swiped at her wildly. Puzzled, she took a moment to glance down at the mace in her hand. Its blades were sharp, and it was reasonably heavy. Those last few blows should have cracked or cut open the creature’s skull. But still it struggled to come at her.

One of her hits had apparently destroyed its left eye, so she stayed to its left, circling behind every time it tried to turn far enough to see her. She rushed in again and hit its skull two more times.

This time, the creature stopped screaming, which caused its companions at the fence to go into a heightened fury.

On all fours, it continued turning to its left, but its movements were slower, less coordinated.

Infinity darted in to put it out of its misery. She hit the crown of its skull as hard as she could, embedding one of the mace’s blades in the bone. She yanked the blade out as the creature collapsed onto its face.

And then it grabbed her ankle and pulled her off her feet. Its other hand gripped her knee and pulled her closer. It was going for her head.

Infinity kicked its bloody face with her free foot, but it was like kicking a head made of stone.

A shape appeared beside her, and then she heard a solid thunk. The creature relaxed its grip on her leg.

Desmond pulled free the mace he had just buried in the giant’s forehead. He held a hand out to her.

She gripped it and got to her feet.

“It looked like you needed some help, so I borrowed this.” he said, staring at the weapon in his hand. “I can’t believe I just killed a human being.”

“You’ll get over it,” she said. But her own hands were shaking, so she crossed her arms to hide it. Then she realized things had become quiet. The rain had stopped. The dead giant’s friends at the fence had fallen silent, although they were still staring through the gaps. Lorissa and Zachariah were studying Infinity the way most tourists did after witnessing the raw brutality needed to keep them alive. “You’ll get over it, too,” she said to them.

Several thirdlings gathered around the giant’s corpse, prodding it to make sure it was dead. A tiny hand, palm up, appeared before Infinity. It was the woman who’d loaned her the mace.

“Thank you,” Infinity said as she handed the weapon back.

The woman actually smiled, although the roundness of her face and large size of her eyes made the expression slightly terrifying. She gazed up and down Infinity’s body. She then extended her free hand and touched Infinity’s knee. She sang, “Walah-ree-ro-ro-ro.”

Infinity realized her leg had been smeared with the giant’s blood where it had tried to pull her closer. “It’s not my blood,” she said. “It’s his.” She pointed to the body.

Another female thirdling approached and also touched Infinity’s leg. She sang another brief statement.

Infinity looked down and realized the women were referring to a ragged scratch just below the knee, probably from the giant’s fingernails. “It’s nothing serious,” she said, although she knew that in a world without antibiotics, a scratch could be fatal.

The two thirdling women sang to each other, loud enough for the other thirdlings to hear. This was followed by a verbal exchange among all of them.

Finally, the two women smiled at Infinity and pointed to something in the distance. She looked. They were pointing to the rounded rooftops and rising columns of black smoke. The women took a few steps and gestured for Infinity and the others to follow.

Surrounded by a herd of camels, some carrying tiny riders, the four humans walked barefoot and naked toward the thirdling village.

6

Copper

August 25 - 8:22 AM

As they moved away from the scene of the fight, Desmond turned to look back. The four remaining giants still watched from behind the fence, their angry calls now fading. The hominid’s body, now just a dark lump in the grassy pasture, had been left where it had died.

Riderless camels crowded Desmond as he walked, popping their lips and occasionally smearing goo on his shoulders and neck. It was as if they were fascinated by a species of human they had never seen or smelled before.

“I guess the thirdlings aren’t interested in butchering the big one for meat.” Infinity said. “That’s a good sign.”

Desmond considered this and decided it was a very good sign.

Zachariah was busy trying to avoid the flapping camel lips, but he spoke up. “If we’re going to call the small ones thirdlings, it seems only fitting to call the large ones orcs or goblins. I do believe Tolkien would approve.”

Desmond glanced over at the parasitologist and smiled. The guy was nerdy but likable.

Zachariah noticed and smiled back. “Did you know there’s only one thing worse than a mecium? A paramecium.”

Desmond snorted a laugh. Yes, definitely nerdy. “Zach, did I hear you actually say ‘Heavens to Betsy’ as we were being charged by a herd of camels?”

“They say danger reveals one’s true nature,” he replied. “I suppose ‘Heavens to Betsy’ sums me up pretty well.”

“Perhaps you could put your intellect to better use,” Lorissa said with a disapproving tone. “Seven hundred people are counting on us.”

Zachariah shrugged. “I’m pretty much useless here. It’s impossible to evaluate microbiotic factors without lab equipment and the time to use it properly. So my role has changed. I’m now the cheerleader for this team. Perhaps, Lorissa, you could share your assessment of what you’ve so far witnessed?”

She glared at him. “Well, there is obviously a flourishing animal husbandry tradition among these hominids.”

“Thirdlings,” Zachariah said.

She frowned. “Whatever. I have yet to see plant crops, but the soil certainly is suitable. If we determine that these thirdlings are willing to help our colony get established, well, I can’t imagine we could ask for a better scenario.”

They came to another fence, also made of timber but much lower than the outer fence. It was the height of Desmond’s chest, just enough to contain the camels. They passed through a gate with copper hinges. Several thirdlings sang and whistled to prevent the riderless camels from crowding through the gate while the humans and mounted thirdlings passed through. Outside the gate was a road with two worn tracks about four feet apart. On the far side of the road, between their position and the thirdling village, was another fenced pasture.

A herd of several hundred cow-sized mammals came running and gathered at the fence, as if waiting to be fed. At first, Desmond thought they might be some kind of thickly-furred boar, but then he saw one open its mouth, revealing four massive incisors. The creatures were rodents. They somewhat resembled the capybara of Desmond’s world, only much larger—easily 1,000 pounds each. Their brown fur was broken up by diagonal white stripes from the shoulders back to the rump. The creatures hummed and squealed at the group passing by on the road, like amplified, baritone guinea pigs.

They came to a four-way intersection. Each road was straight and was lined on both sides by the fences of additional livestock pastures. In the distance, Desmond saw a mass of black animals unlike the camels or rodents, but they were too far away to identify. The thirdlings turned right onto a road leading directly to the village.

As they approached the domed structures, the air became pungent with an acidic, sulfurous odor.

“Smell that?” Zachariah asked. “Copper smelting. It has to be. Which explains the prevalence of their copper ornamentation and weapons.”

Another dozen or so thirdlings on camels rode out to meet them, resulting in several minutes of singsong conversation as they apparently talked about the humans.

They proceeded onward, only to be joined by more riders, and then more after that. Soon the mass of escorts was stretched out ahead and behind.

It became evident that the dome-roofed structures were situated in the center of a vast array of roads and fenced pastures. At least a hundred thirdlings were gathered around as they passed the last livestock enclosure and entered the village itself. There were children here, between two and three feet tall. Every thirdling wore knee-length shorts, the only difference being wildly-varying colors. Copper ornamentation was standard, and Desmond noticed a fish-shaped piece of copper hung from the neck of every citizen, including the kids. From what he could see, there were no differences between the clothing, ornaments, or hair of males and females. The only detectable difference was the presence of tiny, bulbous breasts on the females. In fact, their behavior was also indistinguishable, which perhaps meant their social roles were similar.

For what seemed like more than an hour, Desmond and his companions were forced to stand in the road while the thirdlings chattered to each other and stared. He tried counting them, and although their restless moving made this difficult, he estimated 150. Based on the number of houses and other structures he could see, this was possibly the entire population.

A male thirdling emerged from the crowd, carrying an armload of green fabric. Moving with purpose, he stopped in front of each human and handed over a piece of the fabric. Desmond accepted his and held it open with both hands. It was a pair of shorts, similar to those worn by the hominids but larger. The tiny man pointed to Desmond’s groin and then smiled, displaying relatively white teeth with one-inch canines. Perhaps this species was more adapted than Homo sapiens to eating flesh.

“I guess they’re not comfortable with us being in our birthday suits,” Zachariah said. “I’m impressed they made these so quickly.”

The pants were larger than any of the thirdlings could possibly wear, so the garments must have been cut and sewn in the minutes since the humans had arrived.

They all pulled on their shorts. Two long pieces of the cloth extended from the front, and it was clear from observing the thirdlings’ shorts that these were to be tied together to cinch the shorts tight. The fabric was soft and the knee-length pants were reasonably comfortable.

Many of the thirdlings suddenly raised their arms over their heads, their hands quivering like leaves in the wind. They called out, “Loo-roh-roh-roh.” Desmond sensed that they were expressing delight that the humans had put on the pants, although the display could have meant something completely different.

“We’re the only ones here with green shorts.” Infinity said. “Any ideas why?”

She was obviously uneasy about this. Not surprising, since Infinity looked for potential danger in just about everything.

“Maybe the colors represent something to these people,” he said. “Maybe social castes, or something like that. We’re obviously different from them, so we get green.”

Infinity finished tying her shorts around her waist. “Something else I’d like to know—who created all this? They have metal and good fabric and impressive fences. But they’re too damn small. Their brains can’t be more than a third the size of ours.”

Desmond knew what she was thinking—that another more intelligent, more dangerous species could be involved. This is what she and Desmond had seen in the bird people on their last excursion.

“These hominids are approximately the size of Homo floresiensis,” Zachariah said. “But in spite of diminutive brains, floresiensis used tools and fire. And I should point out that it’s likely these thirdlings have evolved from a larger ancestor. In hominids, a gradually reducing brain size may not equate to diminished intellect. If they descended from Homo erectus, for example, it is quite possible their brains underwent what is referred to as neurological reorganization. In which case the functions of the brain were maintained, even as it became smaller.”

Desmond appraised him. “I thought you were a microbiologist.”

“All that matters,” Lorissa interjected, “is that our colony will thrive here. Zachariah may be a microbiologist, but I’m an agricultural specialist, and I see great potential in the existing agricultural infrastructure here. I don’t care how intelligent these things are, as long as they’ll help us. Once we get established, maybe we can have them work our fields for us. Or they can protect us from those gremlins.”

“Goblins,” Zachariah said. “Or orcs. But not gremlins.”

Desmond gazed at Lorissa for a moment, not sure what to think of her statement. For the sake of the refugees in her colony—and for the thirdlings—he hoped she wouldn’t be chosen as the colony’s leader.

They were taken into the village. White, dome-roofed dwellings stood on either side of the narrow unpaved road. Most were cottage-sized by Desmond’s perspective, but even the smallest structures were probably large enough to house up to ten thirdlings. Instead of rectangular, the structures were round or oval. Such a shape would be difficult to construct if using logs or boards. But since the outer walls and roofs were covered in dried and painted mud or concrete of some kind, perhaps wood wasn’t a major structural component. Spaced every few feet around the walls were narrow, vertical openings. They were probably for ventilation, but they resembled the arrow slits of a castle. Small, tight-fitting doors appeared to be made of smooth copper. In the center of each domed roof was a single chimney. From a distance, each structure looked like a short white cylinder with half of a ping pong ball mounted on top. They were symmetrical, with smooth surfaces, indicating sophisticated engineering and craftsmanship. Desmond estimated there were about forty of these structures in the village.

The areas around the structures, as well as the roads, were tidy and manicured, although there were no cultivated plants or grasses to be seen anywhere. Everything was bare gravel and white walls. Apparently camels weren’t allowed into this part of the village. They had been left at the village perimeter near the pasture fences. No other non-thirdling animals, such as dogs, were evident. Perhaps dogs didn’t even exist on this world.

They passed a domed structure that was larger than most of the others. Black smoke billowed from several chimneys, and here the acrid smell of sulfur was even stronger.

“This has to be a copper smelting facility,” Zachariah muttered, possibly talking to himself. Then louder, he said, “These thirdlings are smarter than they appear. That sulfurous odor is sulfur dioxide.”

“What’s your point?” Lorissa asked.

He shook his head as if she should already know his point. “Sulfur dioxide results from burning copper sulfide—copper ore. This means these humans have probably long-ago exhausted the supply of pure native copper at the surface of this world. After that, they would have figured out the simplest copper smelting technique, which is the charcoal reduction of oxidic minerals of copper. But then they must have exhausted the supply of oxidic copper ores.” He paused. “I’m sure you’re anxious to know how I deduce that?”

They all just stared at him.

He went on. “Burning copper sulfide is part of a much more complex smelting technique, and the thirdlings wouldn’t be doing it unless they had exhausted the native copper and the oxidic ores. The next logical approach is what is called matte smelting, a multi-step technique that first involves burning copper sulfide. Hence the smell of sulfur dioxide.” He smiled at them, obviously pleased with the chance to share his knowledge.

“My point is, though, that matte smelting is complex. And just producing the necessary high temperatures is a challenge. But these thirdlings have figured it out. This is proof that their brains are quite analytical, in spite of the smaller size. I would go as far as to suggest they might be as intelligent as we are, although not as far along in progressing through the industrial and technological spectrum.”

“Which means they’re dangerous as hell,” Infinity said. “We need to be ready for anything, so stay alert.”

Stopped on the side of the road next to the smelting structure was a wagon hitched to two camels, the only camels they’d seen within the perimeter of the cluster of buildings. At first, Desmond hadn’t realized they were actually camels, because other than their legs, they were covered in articulated copper armor. And the enclosed wagon itself was fortified with armor. Two female thirdlings sat atop the wagon, staring at the humans and their numerous escorts as they walked by. The women held short, thick bows in their laps, and a supply of arrows bristled from a cylindrical copper quiver between them. Desmond noticed the copper ornaments hanging from their necks were spirals, unlike the fish-shaped ornaments he’d seen so far. Perhaps these women were traders from another village. But he didn’t have much time to consider this because the mass of thirdlings didn’t slow down, and he and his companions were swept along with them.

They approached a low, circular building Desmond guessed was near the center of the village. Like the other structures, vertical slits were arranged around the outer wall about two feet apart. But this building was larger than the others. In fact, if Desmond’s estimate of 150 for the village population was correct, this building could probably accommodate all of them at once.

The humans were led to a low entrance with a door that appeared to be solid copper. Constructed for thirdlings, the doorway was no more than four and a half feet high, and they had to bend over to pass through. Desmond noted the structure’s outer wall was several feet thick, and the door itself appeared to be heavily fortified.

Surprisingly, the interior was cool, although it was a warm August morning. This was perhaps due to the structure’s thick wall and white exterior. It was darker inside, but the wall slits allowed in plenty of light. And it helped that the interior wall and ceiling were also white.

“My God, they brought us to an armory,” Zachariah said.

He was right. The interior was one large circular room, and spaced evenly around the perimeter between the slits were racks of weapons. Particularly bows—hundreds of them—and thousands of arrows protruding from upright tubular containers. There were copper-bladed axes, and maces with blades like the one Desmond had used to finish off the giant orc. And several long spears were propped against the wall next to each window slit.

“It’s not an armory,” Infinity said. “It’s a redoubt.”

Desmond frowned at her. “A redoubt?”

“A stronghold. Think about it. They have a fortified outer fence. Even their livestock is within that fence. It’s not easy, but those giant hominids—the orcs—can get over the fence if they’re motivated enough. This structure is a last-resort stronghold. It’s big enough to hold the entire population, and it’s built to withstand an onslaught from hell. They even have supplies.” She waved toward the center of the chamber. Stacked there were dozens of copper boxes. Next to the boxes were wood-strip barrels with copper hoops, remarkably similar to the whisky barrels still being used back on their own world.

The vertical slits in the outer walls of the houses looked like arrow slits because that’s exactly what they were. The entire thirdling village was designed to be defensible.

Perhaps a hundred thirdlings crowded into the stronghold, apparently interested in what would happen next. The situation was unnerving, but Desmond had relaxed some since entering the village. If the thirdlings planned on killing them, why would they bother giving them specially-designed pants?

For the next few hours, the thirdlings stood in a circle around the humans and chattered to each other. There was no furniture, so Desmond and the others finally sat on the floor. Every few minutes, one of the thirdlings would step forward and try speaking to them. Desmond did his best to repeat back the sequences of sounds. At first, this excited the little hominids, until they realized he was just parroting and had no idea what it meant. The thirdlings tried gesturing with their hands, but it soon became obvious they had developed different conventions for this type of symbolism. Very little of it made sense.

Four thirdlings entered the stronghold and pushed their way through the throng. Each of them held a copper cup and plate, which they placed on the floor before the humans. The cups contained a dark liquid. Each plate contained nothing but meat. The meat was in two piles, one that was raw, and one that was obviously freshly cooked—it was still steaming.

Desmond eyed Infinity. Normally she would order them to avoid eating and drinking during an excursion. The water and food could be toxic due to different biological processes that may have evolved since the world diverged from their own version of Earth. But the game had changed. Zachariah and Lorissa were here to assess this world’s viability for a human colony.

Infinity opened her mouth to speak, but Zachariah beat her to it. “Without lab equipment, there’s no way to determine how this will affect our physiology, other than to simply consume it.”

Infinity nodded. “I agree. Desmond and I will eat and drink. But not you two. If it kills us, you’ll still be able to bridge back and tell the others what happened here.”

“I disagree,” Lorissa said. “You told us we’ll bridge back no matter what happens to us. Even if we’re dead. Our returning bodies will tell all that needs to be told. I’m responsible for an entire colony. You do what you want, but I need first-hand proof that this world is suitable.”

Infinity glared at her, and Desmond knew she was struggling with this dilemma. She was hard-wired to do anything to keep tourists alive until bridge-back. But things were different now.

Finally, she sighed. “Suit yourself.” She reached for her copper cup and sniffed its contents. She frowned and put it back down. “It’s alcoholic.”

Infinity had told Desmond weeks before that she never touched alcohol. ‘Why would I dump shit into my body?’ she had said.

The two scientists drank from their cups. They both nodded their approval.

Desmond took a sip. The liquid was like a flat stout, with little or no carbonation. But it wasn’t unpleasant. His portion of meat that was cooked smelled pretty good. Blood from the raw meat was trickling into the cooked meat, so he tipped the plate to stop it. He pulled a chunk of the cooked meat loose and found it to be lightly spiced and tender. As he ate it, the thirdlings again raised their hands and shook them back and forth, shouting “Loo-roh-roh-roh.” Apparently they were easy to please.

Soon the cooked portions of meat had all been eaten, and—except for Infinity’s—the stout was gone. The drink was strong enough that Desmond felt pleasantly euphoric.

A female thirdling stepped between Desmond and Infinity from behind. She held a small copper dish containing a lump of greenish paste. She pointed to the scratch on Infinity’s leg and then scooped the paste onto her fingers and smeared it onto the ragged, six-inch abrasion. Infinity allowed this without protesting, perhaps because everything about the gesture suggested the thirdling was generously attempting to treat the wound.

Another female thirdling came forward and placed two objects on the floor that could only be described as books. They were rectangular but long, perhaps five inches by three feet. Along one of the long edges were numerous copper rings binding together two thick rectangles of stiff leather. The woman arranged one of them so that the copper rings were facing away from the humans and pulled the top leather cover open, revealing the first in a pile of off-white pages. The pages were of some type of smooth paper or fine fabric. Arranged on the long page from left to right—or perhaps right to left—were drawings.

Zachariah immediately moved his cup and plate aside and crowded forward to inspect the page. “This is fascinating!” He lifted the page to reveal the next page, which contained more drawings. He flipped through the remaining pages. “They have intricate artwork, but I see no written words. They smelt copper ore, but they don’t have a written language?”

“Maybe the pictures are their language,” Desmond said. “Or maybe it’s just a simple picture book, because they know we couldn’t read their words anyway.” He scooted forward on his butt to look more closely at the drawings. Many of the pictures were obviously of people—thirdlings probably—engaged in various activities. The drawn figures were stylized in a strange way, with disproportionately-large heads, feet, and hands, as well as oversized breasts on the females. But there was no doubt what they were. There were images of people with camels and other animals, and of people apparently constructing fences, houses, and a variety of unidentifiable things. There were groups of people gathered together in various arrangements, perhaps social events. Desmond flipped through the pages. Several pages down were drawings of thirdlings together with much larger people—orcs, probably. He gazed at each of these images and then flipped the page. There were more, and more on the page after that. And every one of the images depicted fighting and killing. Beyond a doubt, the thirdlings and orcs were mortal enemies.

“I can’t help but be excited about this,” Lorissa said. “At every turn, these people have welcomed us. They’ve given us clothing, fed us, treated Infinity’s wound, and now they’re teaching us about their culture. This is it, Zachariah. This is the permanent home for our colony!”

Desmond watched Infinity’s reaction to this. She was staring at the drawings, frowning.

He turned back to the book and flipped to the next page. Something here caught his eye and he leaned in to look closer. The first drawing on the left showed two thirdlings pointing their bows at a much larger orc. But beside the thirdlings was another human-like figure that was larger than the thirdlings but smaller than the orc. He looked at the next drawing. Again there were two thirdlings and a figure of intermediate size. They were side-by-side, standing over a dead orc. The last two drawings on the page also showed all three species. In each one, the thirdlings stood to the side while the intermediate figure was apparently chopping up the orc’s body.

“Are you seeing this?” Desmond asked the others.

“Infinity put her finger on the intermediate figure on one of the drawings. “This is why the orcs went ballistic when they saw us through the perimeter fence.”

“It’s a third species,” Zachariah said. “And from the looks of this, the third species may be friends with the thirdlings.”

“And they kill orcs,” Desmond added.

“They may be Homo sapiens,” Lorissa said. “This is good news, right?”

“That’s never good news,” Infinity said.

Zachariah pointed. “Look at these drawings. What do you see that’s different about them?”

Desmond looked. He hadn’t paid attention to it before, but the drawings were specked with dots, maybe rain falling. But the ground was different as well. In fact, on the previous drawings, the thirdlings hadn’t even bothered drawing the ground at all. “It’s snow,” he said. He flipped to the next page. There were more drawings with all three hominid sizes. And in each one, the orcs were being attacked or butchered—in a snow storm.

“These images reveal a great deal, and the thirdlings have a knack for including pertinent details,” Zachariah said. “I do believe this third species—possibly Homo sapiens—may be friendly to the thirdlings. And it appears they come here in the winter to kill orcs. Which would explain why we have yet to see them.”

Desmond was beginning to appreciate Zachariah’s deductive mind. Winter could certainly be when a hominid species might expand its hunting range due to the scarcity of game.

He turned to the tiny woman and pointed to the second book beside her. “Can I see that one?”

She slid it closer to him and then sat cross-legged beside it. She opened it, revealing a blank page. Another woman handed her something that Desmond recognized immediately. It was a small copper ink pot holding a copper quill pen.

She spoke to Desmond in her lyrical language and with exaggerated motions pulled the quill pen out, tapped it to shed excess ink, and drew on the page. First, she drew a female person, in the same style as the other drawings. Then beside it she drew a larger person, and then another. Soon there were four, two of them with exaggerated breasts, the other two with oversized penises. She sat back and studied Desmond. Her round, weathered face, with its large eyes and nearly absent forehead, was expressive. These people were attractive in their own way. As Desmond gazed back at her, she smiled broadly. She then handed him the pen and slid the ink pot in his direction.

Desmond glanced at his companions.

“First contact with another intelligent species,” Zachariah said. He then huffed a laugh. “Don’t screw it up.”

The thirdlings crowded around and watched quietly, expectantly.

Desmond turned back to the diminutive woman. He sighed. There was one big thing, above all else, that he needed to communicate to these people. He dipped the pen, tapped it on the pot’s rim, and flipped the page, revealing a blank sheet.

Trying to mimic the thirdlings’ distinctive style, on the left end of the page he drew a figure standing beside a dome-roofed dwelling with arrow-slit windows. To the right of it he drew a larger figure, one with a penis. He extended the larger figure’s arm so that its hand touched the hand of the thirdling beside it, and he attempted to draw smiles on the two faces. He drew three more of the larger figures, one man and two women. He then glanced up at the thirdling before him, hoping to signify the importance of what he would do next. She was watching intently.

To the right of the four nude humans, he drew another human. And then another. He continued drawing humans, spreading them out to fill up the length of the rectangular page, and then he added more by overlaying them on top of those he’d already drawn. He moved his hand faster, becoming less concerned about detail, just to get more humans on the page. Finally, he stopped before the figures became so crowded they weren’t recognizable. He turned the book around and pushed it closer to the woman.

She picked it up, got to her feet, and moved to the other thirdlings. They gathered around her, singing to each other in their melodic, otherworldly language.

7

Lorissa

August 25 - 7:07 PM

A bridger’s job was to keep tourists alive until bridge-back. That’s how it had always been, and Infinity had been a bridger from the beginning. Four years—longer than anyone. The job wasn’t about making friends with the natives. Because no matter how goddamn cute or interesting the natives were, they were always trouble. No exceptions, at least none Infinity had seen. Until maybe now.

Throughout the day, the thirdlings had shown again and again that they intended no harm to the humans. Twice they had provided food and drink, although Infinity had gone to some trouble trying to convince them she wanted only water. She never did get water, but finally they brought her some sweet pink juice that was nonalcoholic.

The thirdlings had brought out book after boring book of pictures, pointing and talking as if they believed the humans would finally understand if they heard the words a thousand times.

For several hours, the thirdlings demonstrated some kind of dance. Or maybe it was a game, or even a form of talking—who the hell knew? They got Desmond and the tourist, Zachariah, to get up and try some of the moves. The thirdlings didn’t seem to laugh the same way humans did, but Infinity was pretty sure they thought that was funny. Wretched was what it was.

Finally, the thirdlings had led them out of the stronghold and to a smaller house, which was where they were now. And apparently they were expected to spend the night there. Only about twenty thirdlings were still present, and every one of them was armed with a copper-bladed mace and a bow. Wisely, they didn’t fully trust the larger humans.

Infinity had gradually become convinced the thirdlings didn’t intend to kill them. But still she was uneasy. Seven hundred and eighteen lives were at stake, which was 715 more than she had ever had to protect on an excursion.

“We need to talk about the situation,” she said to the others during a rare moment when the remaining thirdlings were occupied with discussing something between themselves. “I’m guessing bridge-back is in about twenty-four hours, at which time we’ll have minutes to make a report.”

“I can’t imagine what there is to talk about,” Lorissa said. “The thirdlings have given every indication that they will help us survive here, and—”

Infinity stopped her with a raised hand. “Shut up and hear what I have to say. This is a village of about 150 thirdlings. There’s no way in hell your colony of over 700 humans can live here with them, even if the thirdlings wanted you to. I’m sure there are other villages, but we know nothing about them. Even if each village took in fifty humans, that would take fourteen villages.”

“And each human is three times the mass of a thirdling,” Desmond added. “So fifty humans would double the biomass that the village would have to feed.”

“Then we start our own village,” Lorissa said.

Infinity stared at her for a moment. Was the woman really this stupid? “Where? In the forest beyond the perimeter fence? With the orcs?”

Lorissa opened her mouth to argue like she was on autopilot. But then she stopped. She blinked away tears that were forming in her eyes. “It has to work. We may not get another chance.”

“It takes seventy-two hours to do another bio-probe and an assessment excursion,” Infinity said. “You’ll get another chance.”

Lorissa wiped her cheek and shook her head, but she didn’t reply.

“It’s the orcs that you fear,” Zachariah said. “But what I fear is far more terrifying. These thirdlings are a different species, but they are close enough to us that they almost certainly harbor pathogens that could make the leap. The same could be said for the orcs. Without antibiotics or medical equipment, our entire colony could be wiped out by any of a thousand diseases within the first few months. What we need is a world without hominids at all. Or we need to convince the colony to bridge to a world with a very recent divergence point. Like only one year.”

“We’ve voted on that!” Lorissa sobbed. “They want a world without humans. And with cold weather coming, we don’t have the time to try over and over again. This world already has shelters, and fences, and livestock. Maybe it will be our pathogens that wipe out the thirdlings, and then we’ll be able to use their villages.”

Again, Infinity stared at her.

“Jesus, Lorissa,” Zachariah said.

As gutsy as it had been for Lorissa to say this, it was true. And Infinity understood the raw survival instinct it took to formulate such a thought. She had killed neanderthals and several other human-like creatures in order to protect human tourists. Hell, she had even killed a few human residents of other worlds. It was better than losing a tourist.

Unfortunately, Lorissa’s logic didn’t provide good enough odds.

“But there’s far less than a 50% chance of that happening,” Zachariah pointed out. “Some of our pathogens bridge here with our bodies, but we’re relatively sterile when we bridge, due to all the antibiotics we’re given in preparation. It’s far more likely we’ll be on the receiving end of the pathogen deal.”

“Then maybe we could inject the colonists with some kind of virus,” Lorissa said. “Something we’re sure the thirdlings would contract.”

Desmond and Zachariah looked dumbfounded. Infinity realized she hadn’t really known Lorissa until this moment.

Zachariah shook his head and said, “It wouldn’t change anything, because the colony would be just as likely to contract diseases from the thirdlings.”

Lorissa’s pleading stare was intense. “But it would help, right? I mean, if we get lucky and don’t contract a deadly disease from the thirdlings, we’ll have access to their resources and—”

“It’s not happening.” Infinity said. “There are rules.”

“But surely those rules are no longer valid, considering what’s going on.”

“I said it’s not happening!” Infinity realized her aggressive tone had startled the nearby thirdlings. They were now watching them, their big eyes even rounder than usual. Several of them tightened their grips on their bows and maces.

“Let’s not give our hosts a reason to rescind their hospitality,” Desmond said calmly. “I think we can all agree this world presents substantial problems for a colony. Do you agree, Lorissa?”

She wiped her cheek again and nodded slightly. But the fierce determination in her eyes remained.

* * *

11:49 PM

The two tourists were finally asleep, but Infinity wasn’t sure about Desmond. The mattresses they’d been given—cases of fine fabric stuffed with what might have been camel hair—were soft, but she shifted her body and let out a grunt as if she were uncomfortable.

“Can’t sleep?” Desmond asked. His mattress was inches from hers, so his whispered words were clear.

She smiled into the darkness. “Sleeping usually isn’t an option on excursions, in spite of what happened to me last time.”

She heard him reach out for her. His fingers came in contact with her breast. He quickly realized what he was touching and moved his hand to her stomach. She smiled again. They hadn’t made love yet, but she thought about it sometimes. With all the crap that was going on, though, it would probably never happen.

“I can’t sleep either,” he said. “This is a huge responsibility—all those lives at stake.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think there’s any way they could survive here?”

“Not likely.” Actually, there wasn’t a chance in hell.

He was quiet for a moment. “Infinity?”

Instead of answering, she put her hand on his.

“I hope when the time comes we can bridge with one of the colonies,” he said. “To stay, I mean.”

“I know what you mean. Again, not likely.” They had talked about this before. She and Desmond had been assigned to assist as many colonies as possible. And they’d been promised that when conditions on Earth got really bad, they could join the last colony and bridge one-way to an alternate world. But she knew this wasn’t going to happen. There would always be one more colony waiting to evacuate, up until the moment the bridging center was destroyed by an earthquake or storm. And that would be it.

“But I still hope for it,” he said.

She pressed his hand more firmly against her belly.

“No, stop!” It was Lorissa. She could be heard thrashing around in the darkness. “Stop!”

“She’s having a nightmare,” Desmond whispered. “I can understand why.”

Infinity sighed and pushed his hand from her. “I’ll wake her, otherwise she’ll freak out the thirdlings.” The thirdlings had left them alone in the domed house, but guards were almost certainly watching the door from outside. She got to her hands and knees and felt her way to Lorissa’s side. She shook the woman’s shoulder.

“Stop!” Lorissa sat upright and got to her feet. “No!” She scrambled away and Infinity heard her trip and fall and get up again. “I don’t want to!” She fumbled with something and then threw open the door.

Now Infinity could see her shape against the dim light of the open doorway. In a panic, the damn woman bent over and bolted out into the night.

“Stay here!” Infinity shouted to Desmond. She moved to the doorway and ducked through.

Lorissa had already crossed the road and was sprawled on the gravel at the base of another dwelling, sobbing. Several thirdlings stood over her, holding their bows ready to kill her if necessary.

Infinity approached them slowly. “Please don’t shoot my friend,” she said softly. “She doesn’t mean you harm. I’ll take her back inside.”

The thirdlings glanced back and forth between Lorissa and Infinity, obviously on edge.

Infinity held her hands out. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

The thirdlings pulled back, allowing her to approach Lorissa.

Kneeling, Infinity put a hand on Lorissa’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“No, I’m not okay,” she sobbed. “I don’t deserve to be here. I don’t deserve to be part of a colony.”

Infinity glanced up at the waiting thirdlings, but their features were only shadows in the dark. “Of course you do. They selected you because you’re qualified.”

“You don’t know me! You don’t know what I’ve done. No one knows.”

Infinity closed her eyes and counted to three. She had no interest in being Lorissa’s counselor. “We’ve all done things we regret. Your colony will be a fresh start for you.”

Lorissa was shaking and crying. “I killed my dad!”

Infinity opened her eyes and stared at her. “You what?”

“A few weeks ago. After everyone knew the end was coming. He still lived on our farm in Oregon. I drove out to see him. I don’t know why. Maybe I thought I should see him one more time—tell him goodbye. Even though we weren’t close. In fact, I hated him. I’ve always hated him, since I was a little girl.”

Infinity really didn’t want to hear this. But maybe if Lorissa could spit it all out, she’d calm down.

“I thought I could make amends.” Her voice was breaking and pitiful. “Because I don’t have other family. That’s why I was selected for the colony. So I went to see him. But it didn’t work. He was hateful. Just like always. He hated me for being picked. For leaving him behind. For leaving everyone behind. It got ugly. I tried to leave. He grabbed me. Like he used to grab me. So I hit him. With an iron he used as a doorstop. I hit him more than once. Oh, God!” She put her hands over her face.

Infinity could guess what had happened next. “So you left and didn’t tell anyone?”

Lorissa nodded behind her hands. “I knew I’d lose my spot in the colony. I just went home. A few days later it was time to go to Missouri. To SafeTrek. I don’t want to lose my spot, Infinity. I can’t. It’s my chance to help people. To make up for what I did.”

How the hell was Infinity supposed to deal with this? She took a deep breath, deciding on a course of action. After glancing again at the thirdlings surrounding them, she firmly grabbed Lorissa’s ears, forcing the woman to look up at her.

“Do you notice how I’m talking calmly? It’s because I don’t want these thirdlings to kill us. So the next time you speak, keep that in mind. Listen carefully. I don’t care about your dad, and I don’t care what you’ve done. But I care about the people in your colony. And I care about Desmond and Zachariah. Here’s the goddamn deal. You’re going to stop acting like a psychopathic bitch. Because this is important. If you can act normal until bridge-back, I won’t tell Reece Eagleton what you’ve told me. And you’ll still have your spot in the colony. Do you understand?”

Lorissa nodded without speaking.

“I’ve seen you acting sane, so I know you’re capable. Get your shit together or you may not even make it to bridge-back.” Infinity released her ears. “Speak calmly and tell me you’re going to do that.”

Lorissa rubbed her right ear. “I’m going to act sane. You don’t have to worry.”

Infinity extended a hand to her. “Good. Now get up, walk to the road, and then squat and pee.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I want these thirdlings to think you were upset because you needed to pee. You have to go, right?”

“I’ve had to go for hours.” She allowed Infinity to pull her up. She went to the road, pulled down her shorts, and squatted.

“Me-lee-cree-cree-cree!” the nearest thirdling cried. She was a female, and she grabbed Lorissa’s shorts and pulled them back up. She then led her by the hand back to the dwelling.

When they were inside again, the female thirdling went to the wall and touched something. There was a click, and a small flame ignited inside a lantern mounted three feet up on the wall. The flame was encased in a faded globe that might have been blown glass. Desmond and Zachariah got up and gathered around as the thirdling went to a flat white disk on the floor, apparently made of the same stuff as the house itself. She shoved the disk aside with her tiny foot, revealing a dark hole about ten inches across. The gentle sound of flowing water could be heard from below the hole—a sewage system.

The thirdling mimicked the act of squatting over the hole, and then she stood to the side, waiting.

“Thank God,” Zachariah said, and he rushed over to the hole. “Pardon me, ladies, but this has been a long time coming.”

8

Class

August 26 - 7:49 AM

Something had changed between Infinity and the agriculture scientist, Lorissa. Desmond was sure of that. Lorissa was avoiding eye contact and was keeping to herself more than usual. After Lorissa’s waking nightmare and panic attack, they had all slept at least a few hours, and now sunlight was streaming through the window slits on the east side of the dwelling. Thirdlings could be heard talking outside, but so far none had come in to check on them.

Desmond glanced at the others one more time to make sure their backs were turned and hurriedly finished defecating into the hole in the floor. If he hadn’t eaten so much of the meat offered by the thirdlings yesterday, he could have avoided this humiliating chore. A soft fabric towel hung beside the latrine, but since Desmond was the last of the four to do this, he had to carefully manipulate it to find an area not already soiled. He hoped this was the intended purpose for the towel, otherwise the thirdlings might be offended by how the fine piece of fabric had been desecrated.

“Okay, you can turn around,” he said after using the towel and pulling up his green shorts. Zachariah and Infinity turned, but Lorissa continued staring out through one of the slits.

Desmond gazed at Infinity until he caught her eye, then he nodded toward Lorissa, silently asking what was going on with her. Infinity frowned and shook her head, which probably meant she had an answer but wouldn’t discuss it now.

The door swung inward, and three thirdlings stepped in, all of them holding bows with arrows nocked and ready to pull back. After several seconds of uneasy silence, one of them sang a few phrases and more thirdlings came in, bearing plates heaped with cooked meat. They also had copper cups of the dark stout for Desmond, Zachariah, and Lorissa, and pink juice for Infinity.

Zachariah immediately sat on the floor before the plates. “Not that I’m complaining, but what’s a guy got to do to get a salad around here?”

“They’re carnivores,” Infinity replied. “It’s even possible this is orc meat.”

Zachariah cocked his head and eyed her for a moment with a frown. Then he chuckled. “I thought bridgers were supposed to be helpful.” He poked at the contents of one of the plates, selected a fist-sized chunk of the meat, and began eating.

Other than an undeniable need to crap when he had awakened, Desmond had felt no ill effects from the meat, so he also helped himself.

About fifteen thirdlings gathered around and watched as the humans ate their fill. Desmond noticed one of them was the same woman who had communicated with him using drawings. She and at least two of the men seemed to be of some importance in this community. When these individuals talked, the others always fell silent and listened. And these same three had been present each time there was a gathering around the humans. They either had an interest in, or were in charge of, the thirdling-human interactions.

As Desmond ate, he occupied his thoughts with assigning names to the three he was becoming familiar with. The more time he spent with them, the easier it was to tell them apart, although still the only way he could distinguish females from males was by their breasts. The female, he decided, would be Jane, because Calamity Jane was the first person who came to mind. Whether it was true or not, Calamity Jane had a reputation for fighting native Americans. The two men he named Bill and Hickok, because Wild Bill Hickok was the only name he could think of to go along with Calamity Jane.

After collecting the empty cups and plates, the thirdlings guided the humans out the door and onto the road. They then turned and headed east toward the rising sun. By the time they stopped at a large, white-domed structure at the edge of the village, another twenty or so thirdlings had stopped what they were doing to follow the group.

They entered the structure through a door that was wider and taller than those they’d so far seen. Once Desmond was inside, he understood why. The open space within the structure was clearly a training area. Several dozen young thirdlings were gathered around two female adults who appeared to be demonstrating techniques for fighting with the same bladed maces Desmond and Infinity had used to kill the orc the previous day. Beyond the thirdlings, attached to the far wall by thick copper chains, were three hulking figures. Somehow, and for some reason, the thirdlings had brought live orcs here.

Desmond exchanged a glance with Infinity. Her frown indicated she was as disturbed by this as he was.

The instructors paused their lesson as the humans were led around the perimeter of the room. Song-like chattering resonated throughout the chamber as the young thirdlings gathered around. Jane, Bill, and Hickok paused to speak to the class, and then the entire mass of thirdlings and humans continued around the perimeter until they were beside the restrained orcs.

The massive hominids were sitting on the floor with their backs to the wall, each of them chained by the neck and waist. They were surrounded by their own filth, and the smell was intense. Their heads hung down loosely as if they were asleep, but the nearest one looked up as the group approached. Desmond’s gut wrenched when he saw the creature’s face. There were scars upon scars, with some wounds so recent the dried blood hadn’t worn off. Drool moistened the creature’s chin and dripped onto its lap. It was a man, but the orc beside it was a woman, although one of her breasts had been mutilated so badly it was mostly gone. The third orc’s body was too ravaged to even tell if it was male or female.

The huge man’s dull eyes widened slightly when he spotted Desmond and the other humans, and he let out a grunt. The other two raised their heads to look. Both of them had the faces of beaten, pitiful creatures, devoid of any spirit they may have ever had. All three orcs grunted as they stared at the humans.

One of the fighting instructors stepped forward to talk to her class. She pointed at the humans and the restrained orcs as she spoke, and several times she swung her mace in the air as if reenacting the killing of the orc at the fence the previous day. When she finally fell silent, the mass of kids raised their quivering hands and shouted, “Loo-roh-roh-roh.”

“It seems your brave deed is becoming folktale fodder,” Zachariah said.

“Which means they admire and respect us,” Lorissa added. “This is a good thing.”

The storytelling instructor approached the male orc and kicked its scarred and meaty foot. It shifted its gaze from the humans to her face but didn’t move. She then pulled back and struck its foot viciously with her mace. The orc howled and drew up its knee, cupping its bleeding foot in one hand. The instructor raised the mace, threatening another strike, and the orc rolled to its side and got to its feet. It was broad and stood well over seven feet tall, but there wasn’t an ounce of defiance or threat in its demeanor. It was now an empty shell, regardless of what it had once been.

The instructor spoke to the young thirdlings again as she purposely approached Infinity and handed her the mace. She then stepped back and motioned for Infinity to use the mace on the orc.

After gazing at the instructor for a moment, Infinity lowered the mace to her side and shook her head. “To hell with that.”

9

Trading Post

August 26 - 9:24 AM

Infinity was a fighter. Always had been. And she was even a fighting instructor. But something about this situation triggered her seldom-used sense of mercy. These orcs were not a threat to anyone.

“You should do what they want,” Lorissa said. “We need their help.”

Infinity glared at the scientist. “You really want to tell me what to do?”

Lorissa lowered her eyes and shook her head.

The thirdling instructor gestured again, leaving no doubt about what she wanted Infinity to do.

“Perhaps you don’t have to kill it,” Zachariah said. “I believe they simply wish to learn from you.”

Infinity turned to Desmond. He said, “If we end up bridging the colony here, don’t we want the thirdlings to know who we really are? We’re a compassionate species, right?”

Infinity had her doubts about the truth of that, but the fact of the matter was that she wasn’t going to kill this helpless man. Perhaps he had once been a brutal killer himself, but she just wasn’t going to do it. If the thirdlings wanted a fighting lesson, though, she could do that.

She handed the mace back to the instructor. The small woman gestured yet again for Infinity to use it instead. So Infinity dropped the mace at the woman’s feet, turned to the orc, and closed the distance in three steps. She spun to her left and launched off on her right foot into a 540 roundhouse kick. Her bare foot connected loudly with the orc’s forehead, a blow that would have put any human on the ground. She completed the turn and landed on her feet. The orc howled but barely staggered back, which was the result she had hoped for. The 540 kick wasn’t really a hardcore fighting move, but it was showy and impressive. And she had used it effectively on nonhuman opponents that couldn’t possibly have seen it coming.

Immediately the young thirdlings shook their raised hands. “Loo-roh-roh-roh!”

Infinity walked away from the orcs toward the center of the room. “Watch what I do,” she said. She then went through the initial turn of the 540 kick in slow motion and pointed to her right leg. “Launch from the same foot you’re kicking with.”

She went through the entire kick at full speed and then repeated the slow motion approach. The two instructors caught on to what she was doing. They each tried the move themselves, and soon the entire class was jumping about, trying to replicate the kick. With their small bodies and thin legs, Infinity couldn’t imagine they could do much damage with this move, but they seemed determined to learn it.

For the next half hour or so, Infinity was kept busy with thirty-inch-tall thirdlings wanting personal assistance. Occasionally she glanced at the three orcs. They had all returned to their original position with heads hanging over their laps, sleeping or staring at nothing.

If things had gone differently during the last twenty-four hours, she and the other humans would likely be dead or chained to that wall with the orcs.

* * *

1:09 PM

The price of armor was comfort and mobility, which was why Infinity had always preferred to fight wearing minimal clothing. But the thirdlings obviously believed heavily armored wagons were the only way to venture beyond the village’s perimeter fence. It was hotter than hell in the boxy passenger cabin. Not only that, but the space had been designed for the thirdlings’ smaller bodies.

She glanced at the thirdlings Desmond had named Jane, Bill, and Hickok. She then fiddled with the thick, copper window panel beside her until it popped open. She got to her knees on the seat and forced her head and shoulders through the opening for some fresh air. Following behind the wagon were three nearly-identical wagons, loaded with thirdlings and various goods. Each wagon was being pulled by two camels.

Beyond the other wagons, about a quarter mile back, the perimeter fence gate they’d passed through was still visible. Infinity gazed at the hills surrounding the thirdling village and felt a disorienting familiarity with the layout of the terrain. They were the same hills that surrounded SafeTrek on her own world. During the past four years, she had grown to think of those hills as her home. With a divergence point of only 210,000 years ago, there was no reason to be surprised that the hills looked the same on this world. But still it seemed strange to Infinity, as it had on other excursions before this one. At this moment, the wagon was rolling over the same ground where several hundred people had been killed in a storm two days ago on her world.

She turned and looked forward. In the distance was another tall fence. But this one surrounded only a small area, maybe an acre. Next to the fence were more armored wagons, with thirdlings moving about between them. She pulled herself back in. “Looks like we’re about there.”

“Although we have no idea where there is,” Zachariah replied.

He was right. The thirdlings had insisted the humans come along on this excursion, but of course explanations weren’t possible. Since they had brought four wagons, Infinity had assumed it was a trading mission. But for all she knew, they could be headed for a barbecue—with them as the main course.

They passed through a gate into the fenced enclosure, joining the other wagons that were now already inside. When the humans emerged into the sunlight, thirdlings—presumably from other villages, due to the different copper ornaments hanging from their necks—gathered around, chattering and pointing.

In the center of the fenced enclosure was a fortified, white-domed structure, similar to those back in the village. This was either a single-family dwelling, which was unlikely, or it was a safe meeting place for thirdlings from different villages. A neutral trading post, perhaps.

Several lyrical voices rose above the rest, and thirdlings pointed through the fence to the south. Infinity stepped closer and peered through the slats. A group of seven hominids were walking across the open field between hills. They were too far to see much detail, but their large size and slumped posture indicated they were orcs. They stopped and gazed toward the enclosure, but then they continued on their way. Either they didn’t care to investigate, or they had already learned the cost of trying to climb the fence.

The thirdlings turned from the fence and continued their conversation, apparently not concerned. The talking continued, and before long the other thirdlings came closer to the humans, even reaching up to touch their faces and bald scalps.

The female Desmond had named Jane brought out her wide book with blank pages, and then they all moved into the domed structure. Desmond sat on the floor with the thirdlings as they passed around the pictures he’d drawn. Infinity remained standing and watched carefully as they looked at the drawing that was supposed to inform them that many other humans would show up. They definitely were interested, but the only thirdling facial expression she thought she understood was their broad smile. And they were not smiling at this picture.

Actually, Infinity had already pretty much ruled out this world as a viable colony destination. The thirdlings and orcs presented too many problems, in spite of what Lorissa wanted to believe.

A male thirdling from the spiral ornament village approached Infinity and stared up at her. He then reached up and poked her right breast several times with his finger, like he was trying to prove to himself it was real. She gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to push him away. He smiled at her, for whatever that was worth. He then held up his other hand. In it was a pile of small copper rings. He picked up one of the rings and held it up, revealing that they were actually joined together. It was two short chains with horseshoe-shaped fittings at each end. And there was a circular ring around the chain links between the two ends.

The little man said something to Infinity and then turned his back to her. A few seconds later, he turned back around, holding the circular ring separate from the chain. He turned his back to her again, and when he turned around the ring was back on the chain between the horseshoes.

He handed her the chain.

“It’s a puzzle,” Zachariah said. “I think I can—”

“Yeah, I got that. He wants to see how smart we are. I’ve been through this crap before.”

Zachariah became antsy, pointing at the puzzle and barely stopping himself from snatching it from her. “If you just… you have to turn them. And then….”

She thrust the rings into his eager hands.

He arranged the circular ring at an angle to the two ends, folded the horseshoes over on top of each other, and slipped the ring off.

“Loo-roh-roh-roh!” the thirdling sang.

“Give me that.” Infinity snatched the puzzle pieces from Zachariah. She tried putting them back together, but she hadn’t watched his motions carefully enough.

The door flew open and a thirdling armed with a bow rushed in. “Jila-lor-lor-lor! Jiheela-lor-lor-lor!”

All the thirdlings stopped what they were doing and gathered at the window slits. Before Infinity got to one of the slits, she heard a commotion outside—the musical babbling of thirdlings intermingling with orc grunts. She leaned over the heads of several thirdlings to look out. Thirdlings stood facing the fence, ready to shoot arrows at several orcs peering in at them. She counted five orcs, but she could tell by the thirdlings’ pointing and glancing over their shoulders that there must have been more beyond the range of her vision. Compared to the orcs she’d seen at the fence the previous day, these seemed only curious. And the thirdlings’ casual chattering meant they weren’t all that concerned.

One of the thirdlings pulled on her hand. It was the female, Jane, trying to pull her toward the door.

Infinity resisted. “What?”

Jane held out a bladed mace and gestured for Infinity to take it outside.

“Screw you. You can fight your own battles.” Infinity then realized most of the other thirdlings were watching her, many of them smiling and shaking their flattened hands. She should not have insisted yesterday on fighting that damn orc.

Desmond stepped to her side. “I think we should stay inside. Remember how the orcs reacted—”

“I know! I don’t intend to go out there.”

But the thirdlings were becoming more insistent. Some of them had resorted to gleeful chanting.

“We need them as allies,” Lorissa said. “Why are you ignoring them?”

Infinity thought briefly of putting the mace into Lorissa’s hands and shoving her out the door. But bridgers didn’t harm tourists. She turned and squinted through the window slit again. The orcs were pacing back and forth outside the fence, occasionally shoving their fingers through the gaps and gripping the slats like they were testing for weaknesses. What would they do to these thirdlings if the fence wasn’t there? Obviously the thirdlings were capable of capturing and imprisoning the larger species, but most likely those were individuals that had been shot and injured—perhaps while at the fence like these were—and left behind by the other orcs.

The thirdlings surrounded Infinity, pushing and pulling her toward the door. The damn things were relentless. She now had two choices: violently resist or go along. As much as Infinity distrusted Lorissa, the scientist was right. This wasn’t the time to antagonize the thirdlings. So she allowed them to pull her through the door.

She straightened up and shielded her eyes from the sun. Jane took Infinity’s other hand and pressed the mace handle into her palm until she accepted it. The orcs were still pacing back and forth by the fence, and it was now definite that there were more of them, maybe as many as twenty.

Jane gestured toward the fence, so Infinity stepped closer. She stopped only a few feet from the nearest orc. The creature seemed to notice her and stopped pacing. It pressed its face to the fence, gazing down at her through a three-inch gap in the slats. Its fingers came through a gap at the level of Infinity’s eyes and gripped the fence, knuckles white in spite of a lifetime of scars and filth. The massive creature sniffed the air. It then let out a sharp snort, “Chuh!”

Infinity looked up into its eyes and spoke gently. “I’m not a threat to you. You have no reason to hate me.”

The creature’s eyes narrowed. “Chuh. Chuh. Chuh! Chuh!” It slammed its forehead into the fence and yanked on the slat. The dry piece of wood cracked, and the orc ripped it away. The creature hunched over and glared at Infinity through a new ten-inch gap. “Chuh! Chuh!”

Several other orcs were now at its side, and when they saw Infinity, they began grunting and howling. An arm the size of Infinity’s leg shot through the widened gap, and she stepped back to avoid being grabbed.

A thirdling stepped up beside Infinity and pulled back her short bow. She waited for an orc to put its face to the gap and then released. With a sharp thunk, the arrow penetrated the creature’s left eye socket. Without even convulsing, the creature fell to the ground, dead.

The orcs—all twenty of them—became silent, staring at their fallen companion.

“Chuh. Chuh. Chuh! Chuh!” The grunting grew and intensified and then gave way to feral shrieks of rage. The orcs threw themselves against the fence, pounding and screaming. Several began climbing, although they would have to negotiate the downward-pointing spikes at the top. Three of the orcs began a cooperative effort to widen the gap by pulling free another slat. The board cracked, and seconds later an orc shoved its entire head through a gap that was now at least sixteen inches wide.

It was too late to stop the conflict now, so Infinity stepped forward and struck the orc’s forehead with her mace. The creature howled and drew back. But numerous hands appeared on the next board and the orcs began pulling. If they removed one more slat, the gap might be big enough for them to squeeze through it.

Infinity hammered the orcs’ fingers, slicing them mercilessly. “Help me!” she cried over her shoulder. One of the thirdlings with an axe rushed to her side and together they chopped at the hands.

But there were too many of them. And the orcs were watching through the gaps, pulling their fingers back just before being hit. Just as another thirdling with a mace joined in the effort, the third board began to crack.

A hand gripped Infinity’s shoulder. “They’re coming over the fence,” Desmond said. “We need to get inside.”

Infinity glanced up. Two orcs, bloodied from the spikes and with thirdling arrows protruding from their bodies, were swinging their legs over the top of the fence. Several more were still negotiating the spikes.

The third slat gave way with a loud crack. Immediately, an orc rammed its way headfirst through the opening, stopped only by its thick chest. The thirdling next to Infinity swung at its face with her axe. In a blur of motion, the orc grabbed her arm with one hand, pulled her closer, and then seized her neck with its other hand. Within a split second, the thirdling’s face was in the orc’s mouth. The orc bit down, crushing the tiny face and tearing the thirdling’s skin from her skull. The orc released the writhing body and furiously struggled to push through the opening. Several arrows hit its face but were deflected by its dense skull.

“Let’s go, Infinity!”

She turned away from the fence. “Where are the tourists?”

“Still inside. Come on!”

She gave in and followed him. The thirdlings had come to the same conclusion and were crowding against the door, pushing through one at a time.

A loud thud pulled Infinity’s attention back to the fence. An orc had fallen to the ground inside the enclosure. But it was incapacitated by at least a dozen arrows and couldn’t get up.

Another orc landed on its feet beside the first. Several thirdlings rushed forward, forming a half circle around it, and shot arrows into its neck and chest from five feet away. The orc lunged forward, grabbed one of the thirdlings, and swung the smaller creature over its head, intending to club the others with it. But then it paused, coughing up blood. Its chest heaved as it tried to suck in air. In one last defiant move, it hurled the thirdling at the others, hitting two of them. It then collapsed to the ground, blood gushing from its nose and mouth.

Another board cracked as the orc in the fence pushed through. Grunting and screaming, it fought its way through the opening.

“Infinity!”

She turned. Desmond was halfway through the small door, holding a hand out to her.

“Go on,” she cried. He ducked through and she followed.

Seconds later, the last of the surviving thirdlings entered the structure and latched the door securely from the inside.

Almost immediately, orcs began pounding on the door. But it had been built to sustain such an attack, and soon the pounding relented. Thirdlings stood by the window slits with bows ready, but the orcs were apparently smart enough to keep their distance.

Infinity moved to a window slit that allowed her to see some of the wagons parked outside. As she suspected, the orcs had given up trying to break into the domed fortress and were now focusing their attention on the camels. She had yet to see the huge men using weapons of any kind, but two of them approached one of the camels with broken fence slats. They raised the slats over their heads and began pounding the beast, the boards clattering against the camel’s copper armor. Several orcs grabbed the camel’s feet and pulled. The camel grunted and fell to its side. The orcs leapt on it, tearing away the armor plates and pummeling the creature with their fists. One of them attacked the creature’s neck with its teeth.

Gradually the camel quit kicking and lay still. The orcs began feeding, tearing off long strips of hide with their teeth and then biting off chunks of red muscle tissue.

“Loo-roh-roh-roh! Loo-roh-roh-roh!”

Infinity turned away from the window. The thirdlings were actually smiling at each other as they chanted, in spite of the fact that several of their companions lay dead outside.

She plopped her butt on the floor and leaned against the wall. Desmond came over and sat beside her, which prompted Zachariah and Lorissa to do the same, although Lorissa was careful to sit where the two men were between her and Infinity.

“I’ve heard stories about neverlands,” Infinity said. “Alternate worlds you’d actually want to go to. But I’ve sure as hell never seen one. This world’s as screwed up as any of them.”

“At least we’re safe in here,” Desmond said. “I’d guess four more hours until bridge-back.”

“Which brings us to an inevitable dilemma,” Zachariah said. “Reece Eagleton has made it abundantly and painfully clear that we will have only sixty minutes after bridge-back to make a determination of this world’s viability. What do we tell him?”

“What do you think?” Infinity asked him.

Zachariah shook his head. “It’s problematic, to say the least.”

She turned to Lorissa with raised brows.

The agriculture scientist looked down at the floor. “You know how I feel about it.”

“I don’t see what there is to discuss,” Desmond said. “If your colony were twenty or thirty people, I imagine these thirdlings would take you in. Or at least help you get established. But over 700 people?” He shook his head.

“I agree,” Infinity said. “So three out of four of us give it a thumbs down. Lorissa, when we bridge back, I’m sure you’ll have a chance to express your opinion, but for the sake of your colony, I recommend you keep it to yourself. You need to trust me when I say this world is screwed up.”

“But you said they’re all screwed up.”

Infinity stared at her, but Lorissa simply looked back down at the floor.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Zachariah said. “Why are they in such a festive mood?” He was watching the center of the room, where about twenty thirdlings were engaged in some kind of dance, similar to the one they’d shown the humans yesterday back in the village.

As Infinity watched, she began suspecting the activity was more than just a dance. It was now obvious the thirdlings were clustered together in village-based groups, about seven per group. There were thirdlings from three villages, represented by copper ornaments: fish, spirals, and a third design that was some kind of four-legged animal with no tail.

With the three groups arranged in a rough circle facing the center, the thirdlings slapped their hands against their thighs, creating a simple, primitive rhythm. Each individual danced in place, apparently using random freestyle moves. But each group also moved as a unit. The three village groups drifted toward the center and then passed through each other until they ended up on opposite sides. As they passed each other, still dancing, some of them would throw one leg out toward another. At first Infinity thought they were trying to trip each other, because the others would quickly attempt to avoid contact with the thrown legs. But on several occasions, thirdlings watching from the sidelines cheered and pointed, obviously impressed by a successful move, although no thirdlings were tripped.

Eventually it became clear that a successful move involved one thirdling placing a foot between the feet of another thirdling in a certain way. And every time the three groups would converge and pass through each other, several thirdlings would execute a successful move, to the delight of their fellow villagers, and several would fail, to the delight of their opponents.

Jane stepped in front of the humans and held out copper cups of the dark alcoholic ale. Infinity refused, but the other three accepted their cups. Infinity then realized most of the other thirdlings already had their own cups. Some of them even had two.

While orcs slaughtered and ate their camels outside, these thirdlings were having a goddamn dance party.

10

Fighting

August 26 - 5:37 PM

The dancing game was harder than it looked. Desmond had tried for the last three rounds, much to the delight of the thirdlings, but he had yet to score a point for his village—assuming points were even used. Of course it would have helped had he understood exactly where to place his foot to score a point. And it might have helped if he’d turned down that second cup of stout.

The orcs had finally wandered off, leaving behind an undetermined number of dead camels. But still the festive gathering had gone on, as if it were more important than the livestock or the thirdlings that had been killed in the attack. About an hour ago, some of the thirdlings had taken one of the wagons and exited the enclosure, but that hadn’t stalled the festivities.

When the current round of dancing ended, Desmond stepped away before the thirdlings could convince him to try again. Exhausted, he sat down beside Infinity and the two scientists. “If things weren’t going to hell back home, it’d be easier to appreciate that we’re the only humans who will ever meet these amazing creatures.”

Infinity eyed him for a moment. “Somehow it doesn’t surprise me you’d say that.”

“Am I too wide-eyed and green for your taste?”

She didn’t smile, but the muscles in her face relaxed a little. “Maybe it provides balance. Armando said I’m wound pretty goddamn tight.”

Desmond feigned like he was starting to get up. “Would you care to dance, then?”

“Don’t push it,” she said.

Zachariah cleared his throat. “Well, this explains a few things.”

Desmond gave him a bridger’s scowl and saw from the corner of his eye that Infinity was doing the same. Zachariah just grinned.

A commotion outside drew Desmond to his feet, and he looked out. The wagon that had departed an hour ago was returning, and now it was clear why it had left in the first place. Tied to it were four extra camels, complete with copper armor, no doubt to replace those the orcs had killed.

The thirdlings heard the noise as well and finally the dancing competition came to a stop. The party was over.

Once outside, the thirdlings gathered at the wagons, where they spent the next half hour inspecting each other’s goods and making trades. There were rolls of brightly-colored fabric, as well as completed pairs of shorts, apparently the only item of clothing the thirdlings wore this time of the year. There were long, warm-looking robes, perhaps the standard clothing they’d all be wearing in the coming colder months. There were axes, maces, bows, and arrows. Numerous copper canisters were opened and passed around, their contents smelled by all before decisions were made regarding their worth. Bundles of dried meat, tied together with string, were sampled and traded, although there were no signs of bread or any other plant-based foods. And most of all, there was copper: copper arm and leg bands, copper ornaments, copper plates and cups, and numerous items with purposes Desmond could only guess.

A multi-village team of thirdlings unloaded some long boards and set about repairing the damaged fence. The orcs had killed four of the more than twenty camels, although they had eaten portions of only two. These carcasses were stripped of their armor, dragged out using the living camels, and left to rot in the grass about fifty yards from the gate. The thirdlings then hitched the replacement camels to the wagons.

Three dead thirdlings were loaded into one of the wagons. Desmond noticed the orc carcasses were gone, presumably dragged away by their companions.

While all of this was happening, several thirdlings kept a vigilant watch over the surrounding area, making it obvious why they had constructed this fortified trading post in the middle of a relatively flat and treeless valley between forested hills.

At one point, there was a brief pause when the lookouts spotted orcs at about three hundred yards out. Standing near the edge of the trees, the creatures—perhaps eight of them—watched the enclosure. But the next time Desmond looked their way, they were gone.

By the time the trading and maintenance chores were complete, the sun had dropped low in the western sky. It was probably at least 6:00 PM, and bridge-back was at seven.

The thirdlings went through a ritual that was obviously their way of saying goodbye. One at a time, they approached each other. Each of them raised one hand, and they pressed their palms together at the height of their faces. Musical words were spoken during each of these encounters, but it seemed to Desmond that the words were different each time. A few thirdlings from the two other villages even tried this with the humans and smiled at the attempts to match the gesture.

Jane, Bill, and Hickok became relatively quiet on the ride back to the village. The three gazed at the humans, who were uncomfortably crammed into thirdling-sized seats, and soon their disproportionately large eyes became glazed over and half-shut. Not surprising, considering they each probably weighed under sixty pounds and had imbibed several cups of stout.

Desmond wondered what the thirdlings would think when he and the other humans vanished into thin air at 7:00 PM, which as far as he knew could be at any moment. He found it odd that he was concerned about frightening these creatures. Yes, they had been friendly. But they were also quite capable of staggering cruelty, as shown by the captive orcs they kept alive for fighting practice.

No doubt there had been a long, complicated history of interaction between these two hominid species. And perhaps even a third species, if Jane’s drawings were accurate. As an outsider, it was too easy to assume this extreme level of fear and violence could have been avoided. Desmond had to remind himself that similar conflicts and cruelties had frequently occurred on his own world. And that was between races that were only moderately different from each other, within a single species. He could scarcely imagine how much worse the cruelties would be if more than one hominid species had continued to coexist on his world.

His thoughts turned to the Outlanders, the alien civilization that had intentionally destroyed other civilized worlds by sending plans for the bridging device. Desmond’s own world had now become a victim of the Outlanders’ trickery. The physics of information transmission dictated that the Outlanders could not have known which civilizations they were destroying. But what if they somehow did know? Perhaps they somehow knew the cruelties humans were capable of and had selectively targeted Earth—as a kindness to other civilizations living in the same corner of the galaxy.

Desmond blinked and shook his head, trying to clear this stomach-churning thought. But it persisted. He turned to Infinity. “Do you think we deserve what’s happening to our world? Humans, I mean.”

She studied him for a moment. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

“Don’t you think about it sometimes?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She sighed. “I’ve been a fighter all my life, even before I did it for money. Fighting is fast. It’s quick. No time for thinking, just for instinct and muscle memory from training. You don’t get to decide who’s right and who’s wrong. No time for that. And it wouldn’t matter anyway, because that’s all made-up shit.”

Desmond frowned at her. “You think what’s right and wrong is just made up?”

“Isn’t it?”

“I suppose on some level, but—”

“On every level. Think of the bridger’s creed. It’s supposed to represent right and wrong for our profession. But now even that’s changing. You think you know what’s right, and then someone decides it’s not. You think you know what’s wrong, and then someone does something that proves they have a different concept of what’s wrong. It’s all made up.” She shifted in her tiny seat and leaned closer, her eyes intense. “Anyone can take anything from you, Desmond. Except for one thing they can’t take—your will to fight. So you fight to keep what you want to keep, whether it’s your stuff or your life.”

Again, Desmond realized how Infinity’s world view had been shaped by a life very different from his own.

She went on. “You’re wasting your time wondering why the Outlanders destroy other civilizations. Everyone has a different right and wrong, including the Outlanders. So don’t worry about it. Now we only have time to fight.”

Desmond glanced at Lorissa and Zachariah. Both scientists were listening but apparently content to do so silently. He then turned to the thirdlings. All three of them now had their eyes closed, their heads bobbing like tired children on the ride home from a long day at the beach.

And then the thirdlings, as well as the entire wagon, were gone.

11

Minutes

August 26 - 7:00 PM

Infinity had no time to straighten her body, so she hit the padded floor of the bridging chamber still in a sitting position.

Zachariah was the first to speak. “Ow! That was unexpected. Great, I’m naked again.” He then doubled over and retched.

Beside him, Lorissa was already dry heaving.

Infinity did a quick visual survey of her three companions sprawled on the floor around her. “We’re all okay,” she shouted. “No serious injuries.”

Armando’s voice came over the comm. “Welcome back! Glad to see you’re all safe.”

The airlock hatch opened and med techs in white biosuits rushed in. They went straight to the two scientists and helped them to their feet. Zachariah and Lorissa told them they could walk, so the techs led them out the airlock and to the med lab.

“I assume, then, that the world is viable?” Armando asked.

Infinity shook her head as she got to her feet. “No, it’s not.”

This was followed by a few seconds of silence.

“But you’re all alive and appear to be healthy.” It was Reece Eagleton.

Desmond stood up beside Infinity. “It’s not that simple.”

“It couldn’t be any simpler,” Eagleton said. “You’re alive and—”

Armando cut him off. “This can wait. Let’s give them five minutes to get their bearings and hydrate a bit. Infinity and Desmond, we’ll see you in the post-bridging interview chamber.”

There was a click as Armando switched off the comm, and Infinity saw the two men exchanging words behind the plexiglass barrier.

Desmond was holding his gut. “Jesus, does this ever get easier?”

“That Eagleton’s an asshole,” Infinity said. “Come on, let’s get some water.”

He nodded. And then he frowned. “Why do I still feel the alcohol?”

“It’s in your cells, so it bridged back with you. Why do people who drink always complain about the effects?”

He huffed out an abrupt laugh. “I deserved that.”

Exactly five minutes later, Infinity, Desmond, Zachariah, and Lorissa filed into the interview room and sat behind the waist-high barrier. Instead of being naked, they each wore a paper gown—another long-standing policy that no longer mattered.

Armando and Eagleton sat waiting for them on the other side of the plexiglass. Just the two, which was a little surprising. Infinity had assumed, with the fate of 718 refugees on the line, a few more people might participate in this decision. At least some of the refugees themselves.

“What’s happened since our departure?” Lorissa asked.

“Nothing good,” Eagleton replied with a frown. “Another massive wind storm in the region, north of Little Rock. Could be five hundred dead. More earthquakes worldwide. No way to even estimate the deaths from those yet. And no way to estimate deaths from suicide and homicide. Hell in a handbasket, as they say. Which is why we need to get these colonies off this planet.”

“About that,” Zachariah said. “The world we just assessed is not viable for our colony.”

“Why not?”

“We’ll explain,” Zachariah replied, “but we think you should begin preparing another bio-probe rather than preparing the refugees.”

“We don’t all think that,” Lorissa said.

Infinity wanted to grab the woman by the throat. She had warned her to keep her mouth shut.

Lorissa went on. “There is another species of hominid there. We call them thirdlings, and they were kind enough to—”

Eagleton held up a hand. “You know what? I’m going to stop you right there, because there simply isn’t time. You people have returned alive, which is all we really need to know. This simple criterion is a new directive straight from President Millwright. And so we are not initiating another bio-probe. Your people have been segmented into groups and are prepared to bridge, one group per hour for the next thirty-six hours.”

The two rooms fell silent. Infinity had expected an argument, but nothing like this. She rose to her feet, trying to stay calm. “The world isn’t viable for more than a few dozen people. Maybe fifty.”

Armando held both hands up to intervene. “Listen to what she’s saying, Reece. She’s not one to exaggerate.”

Eagleton’s eyes narrowed. “Doyle, you were there when I got the order from President Millwright. You were standing right next to me! Did it sound to you like there was room for negotiation?”

Armando turned back to the plexiglass. “It was the order, Infinity. Worsening conditions are heightening the urgency. We’re having additional generators and personnel brought to SafeTrek, but this building itself could be destroyed at any time. The bridging facility in Dubai has already been lost. And we’re waiting to hear if the Chinese facility has survived their most recent quake.”

“Worldwide, we’ve bridged only six colonies from Earth,” Eagleton added. “Six. That’s 4,300 people. Out of eight billion.”

Infinity closed her eyes for a moment, not only to control her anger, but to contemplate the reality of what she’d just been told.

“You people have returned alive,” Eagleton repeated. “That means your colony will have a much better chance there than they would here. I think you know what their chances are here. I certainly know, because unlike you, I do not have a place in a refugee group. Nor does my family.”

Infinity stared at him. The guy was an asshole, but he was afraid. And the fact that he was here now, doing this instead of spending his final days with his family, was something.

“Do you even want to hear our report?” Infinity asked.

Eagleton nodded. “If you insist. But your time may be better spent preparing.” He looked at his watch. “You’ll be escorting the first group in less than forty-five minutes. If you refuse, they’ll go without your help.” He turned to Zachariah and Lorissa. “If you or those in your colony refuse, we have a second colony right behind them who are terrified their turn is going to be too late. I’m sure they’ll jump at the chance to move forward.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Desmond muttered.

“We can make it work,” Lorissa said. “Infinity, with your help we can do this! There’s already a strong perimeter fence, and good dwellings. And livestock, and weapons. We can spread out into two villages if we have to. Or even three.”

“And the thirdlings?” Desmond asked.

Lorissa pursed her lips and shook her head slightly. “I don’t have all the answers.”

Infinity was thinking seriously of blurting out the agriculture scientist’s dark secret. She looked the woman in the eye. “Do you want to bridge with your colony?”

Lorissa’s eyes widened. “Yes.”

“Then stop talking. Now.”

* * *

7:33 PM

The picnic table was still missing from the training field behind SafeTrek. Where could it have blown to? Of course, it wasn’t really important, but at this moment it annoyed Infinity that no one had bothered to find it and put it back where it belonged. And the grass needed mowing, too. Just one thing. It would be nice if just one damn thing were the same as before.

The very fact that she was out here a half hour after bridging back was unprecedented. Normally, she’d endure three days of chemo-cleansing and patho-cleansing before getting the chance to put on clothes and leave the lab. But even that didn’t matter anymore, as long as she stayed clear of the members of the next colony in line behind Lorissa’s.

She ripped off her paper gown and sat naked in the grass. The surrounding forest had been chewed up by the storm, changing the scenery to an alien landscape. Another goddamn thing that had changed.

Desmond came through the metal door at the rear of the building and walked out to join her. He seemed to waver for a moment and then took off his own paper gown and sat beside her. He took a long drink from his bottle of protein water. “I’m already exhausted. How’re we supposed to help refugees for the next thirty-six hours?”

She shrugged. She didn’t feel the need to talk. It was just good having him there. “Maybe we’ll die.”

“Optimistic as ever,” he said.

She shrugged again.

“I was going to eat,” he said, “but it’s too close to bridging for that.” He ran his hands through the grass like he was grooming it. “Do you think there’s any chance they’ll survive? The colonists?”

“Maybe. I hate myself for saying it, but their best bet might be if they make Lorissa their leader. But I’m glad we’re not going to be there long enough to see that happen.”

“Jesus, you have an interesting mind. I wouldn’t have even thought of that. Actually, it makes me want to throw up.”

She shrugged again. “I almost stopped her.”

“Lorissa? How?”

“I know something. She’d be thrown out of the colony if Eagleton knew.”

He thumped her elbow with two knuckles. “She told you something last night, didn’t she? When she ran from the thirdling house? I knew something was up.”

“She killed her own father.”

“What? Lorissa did?”

Infinity glanced at him. “It’s kind of a long story, and the minutes are passing fast.”

He nodded.

“I want to sit with you,” she said.

He understood, and he unfolded his legs. She moved over between them and leaned her bald head back on the smooth skin of his chest.

Cicadas were starting to sing in the broken forest, but even those were fewer, quieter. Most of them had been crushed in the storm.

* * *

7:52 PM - Group 1

Twenty people stood in the bridging chamber, most of them too terrified to talk. The room smelled of sweat and urine. At least one of them had peed right there on the floor. That’s how scared they were. And there wasn’t much Infinity could think of to say that would be comforting.

Two bridgers, the two scientists, and sixteen refugees. Infinity had never bridged with a group larger than three tourists.

She and Desmond had already taken their technetium-99m, both orally and by injection. This radioisotope would decay in their bodies until just over 1.5% remained, and then the bridging device would pull them back. The scientists and the sixteen refugees had not been dosed with technetium. For them this was a one-way bridge.

They had every right to be terrified.

Only a few minutes left, and this was Infinity’s first opportunity to talk to these refugees since returning from the recent excursion. What could she possibly say?

She had to at least try. “Listen up! I want to see everyone’s eyes!” She waited. “Bridging doesn’t hurt, but it will make you want to vomit. If so, just go with it. Not much will come out anyway. You’re going to drop a foot or so to the ground, but not enough to hurt you. Just be ready to balance yourself. I want you to stand like this.” She demonstrated, and as far as she could tell, they all spread their legs apart and bent their knees. “Some of you decided to keep your clothes on until bridging. I don’t care about that, as long as you understand that your clothing and your hair will be gone when you hit the ground on your new world. Don’t freak out about it.”

She took a moment to scan their faces. The rest of the world envied these people for having a spot in this colony, but at this moment, Infinity pitied every one of them.

“Now, this is new and important information. Knowing it may save your lives.” She turned to look at the plexiglass window. “Armando, you need to either record this or repeat it yourself for every one of the groups following us. Okay?”

Celia was standing next to Armando, and she looked down and touched a control. “You got it, Infinity. I’m recording.”

Infinity turned back to the refugees. “You’re going to drop into a fenced-in pasture. Unless they’ve been removed, there will be a herd of camels in the pasture. They’re harmless. There will be a tall perimeter fence about a hundred yards away. Don’t go near that fence. It’s there to keep out a dangerous human-like creature. They’re huge, strong, and mean as hell. The fence was constructed by a much smaller human-like creature we call thirdlings. So far they seem friendly. And to be honest, you have little chance of surviving without them. Don’t threaten them. Don’t startle them. Smile at them whenever you can.”

She glanced over at Lorissa before going on. “I can’t lie to you people—it’s going to be a challenge to mesh over 700 humans into the culture of these thirdlings.” She shook her head. “You may have to be separated into very small groups to make it work.”

This resulted in a few gasps and at least one shocked sob. Wisely, Lorissa had remained silent through all this.

Infinity went on. “I’m not sure how to say this, but I have to try. You may reach a point where you feel your efforts are failing. You may believe your only chance of survival is to become something worse than the creatures beyond that tall perimeter fence.” Again she glanced at Lorissa.

“If you do reach that point, no one can blame you. I’ve been at that point myself, more than once. When we’re faced with annihilation, we have to fight. But listen to me, please. It is the point at which we decide we must become monsters. It is that point—that threshold—that is important. If you want to be a colony worthy of this chance you’ve been given, then that threshold is everything. Please don’t hit that threshold until your annihilation is certain. Not before then. Try everything you can—every possible strategy—to live peacefully with the thirdlings. Finally, if nothing works, if your destruction is certain, then become the monster you never wanted to be. Fight. Scratch and bite and kill.”

She looked around at their faces. They were more terrified now than before. Good. They needed to be.

“I don’t want to do this,” a man in his forties said. He walked toward the closed hatch. “I want out.”

“I want out, too,” a woman said, sobbing. “I just want to go home.”

A waft of fresh urine moved across the chamber.

“One minute, Infinity,” Celia said.

Infinity gently took the man’s arm and guided him away from the hatch. “It’s too late, sir. Stand with your legs apart. That’s good. Now relax.”

Armando’s voice came through the comm. “Godspeed to you all. Infinity, I’m proud of you, kiddo. Desmond, take care of her. She’s not as tough as she wants you to think she is.”

Infinity raised her middle finger toward the plexiglass just before the room vanished.

12

Inventory

August 26 - 8:00 PM

Desmond’s ears were assaulted by screams, grunts, and twenty naked bodies hitting the ground and jostling for room and balance. They all landed on their feet, but almost immediately they staggered and doubled over to retch. They were too close together for this, and the entire group began toppling over in a domino effect. The grunting and screaming crescendoed as the mass of confused refugees collapsed into a heap.

“Stop moving!” Infinity shouted.

The crowd quieted down only slightly, but the frantic motion stopped.

“Now get to your feet and help the person beside you.”

Within a minute the worst of the retching had stopped and everyone was more-or-less upright.

Desmond looked around the area. The herd of camels stood a few hundred yards away, and some of them held their heads upright, staring over at the commotion. But no thirdlings were visible anywhere. The sun was just setting, and the area would be completely dark by the time the second group arrived. It looked like it would be a cloudless night with a quarter moon that was already fairly bright. The light would be helpful.

The group started spreading out, but Desmond said, “Wait! Stay where you are. Now, move out into a circle that encloses the area where all of you bridged in. Stand shoulder to shoulder.” This took some time, because those that weren’t still nauseous were busy feeling their bald scalps or gawking around at the scenery.

“The camels, there they are!” a woman said, pointing. The others looked, like tourists on a safari vacation. The camels were now running over to investigate.

The humans got into a circle just as the camels spread out and surrounded them, smacking their lips and apparently looking for handouts. Or maybe they were simply curious. Desmond told the refugees to ignore the creatures and pull up the grass at their feet by the roots, which would create a marked boundary around the bridge-in area.

Infinity nodded at him, realizing what he was having them do. “You need to stay out of this circle and keep everyone else out for the next thirty-five hours,” she added.

Zachariah and Lorissa came over and stood beside the two bridgers as they watched the refugees pulling up grass. The camels were already feeding on the pulled grass that was being tossed aside.

Zachariah rubbed his chin. “Okay, well, what do we do now?”

Desmond looked at Infinity.

She exhaled loudly. “I’ve never done anything like this. I guess we need to take inventory.” Louder, she said. “Listen up. How many of you have training or experience in combat or wilderness survival?”

Five hands went up, all of them men.

A stocky guy, possibly military, spoke up. “Ma’am, each colony has been assigned no fewer than 180 personnel with moderate to high skills. We were split up five per bridging team.”

Desmond already knew this, and he was pretty sure Infinity did, too, but she didn’t bother to say so. “I need you five over here.”

The five men came over and stood beside her. All of them appeared to be in decent physical shape. The remaining eleven ranged from gaunt to moderately heavy. No one was over 250 pounds, under fifteen years old, or over sixty. Desmond didn’t even want to contemplate the social injustices that must have occurred in selecting colony members. At least this group was somewhat racially diverse.

She spoke to the entire group. “I know all of you have other qualifications, and I hope you’ll get to put them to use. But right now, the only thing that matters is survival.” She pointed to the perimeter fence, although it was now almost obscured by darkness. “The giants—we call them orcs—are on the other side of that fence. The orcs will kill you on sight.” She then pointed to the white domes of the village. “The thirdlings are there. The thirdlings are definitely our best bet.”

She paused, and for a moment it looked like she wasn’t sure what to say next. “You may think Desmond and I are here to protect you, because that’s what bridgers used to do. But not any more. Everything has changed. If we have to fight to survive, we all fight. Every one of you. I won’t be asking for volunteers.”

“We don’t have anything to fight with,” a woman in her twenties said.

“We hope to get weapons from the thirdlings. But even so, don’t underestimate what you can do with your bare hands.”

The refugees glanced at each other in the fading light, obviously not convinced of this.

“We’d like to know what the plan is,” said the man who had spoken first. “I was under the impression we’d be fashioning shelters, seeking out a source of water, making weapons, that sort of thing.”

Infinity shook her head. “Things have changed. It’s too dangerous to go beyond the perimeter fence, and here within the fence, our best bet is diplomacy with the thirdlings. Somehow we have to convince them to take all of you in, perhaps divide you into groups of only twenty or so per thirdling village.”

“That’s not the kind of colony we had in mind,” a thin, black woman said.

“And it’s not the only way!” It was Lorissa.

Infinity glared at her. “You need to think carefully about what you’re doing, tourist.”

Lorissa moved away from Infinity but obviously wasn’t deterred. “This village has about 150 thirdlings, but they have at least forty well-built and sturdy shelters, most of them large enough to accommodate at least twenty of us. And they have land—plenty of land—already protected by perimeter fences. They have enough livestock to sustain our entire colony through the first winter.”

Infinity stepped forward. Desmond’s first thought was to grab her arm, but then it was too late. She closed the distance to Lorissa at a run. Before Lorissa could do anything more than widen her eyes, Infinity swung her right arm up, striking the woman’s chin with the butt of her palm. The impact produced a sickening crunch, and Lorissa dropped to the ground, moaning and holding her jaw.

Infinity leaned over her. “You’re going to stay down until I finish talking.” She then turned to face the shocked refugees. “Lorissa’s jaw is now broken. For those of you who don’t really understand, in your new reality that means she’s probably going to die.”

Lorissa cried in pain, rolling back and forth on the ground.

“You’re a bridger!” a woman shouted. “How could you do that?”

Desmond wondered how Infinity would answer that question, or if she even would.

“Shut up and listen!” she said. “You’re the first group to bridge through. And from what I could see, you were about to make a suicidal decision based on Lorissa’s influence—a decision you would have then pushed onto each of the groups arriving after you. Your entire colony would be at risk because of her stupidity.” She pointed down at the still moaning woman. “Lorissa’s not a bad person. And she may even be right. But she’s got things turned around. You have to make peace with these thirdlings. It’s your best chance. If it doesn’t work, try again. And again. Only then, after every attempt fails, should you even consider the probably suicidal move of taking over their village. Even then, I doubt it would work, because other villages will likely come to their defense. Once you try that, you’ve permanently closed the door to peace.”

She stepped closer to Lorissa and looked down at her. “With a broken jaw, you’re going to die without the thirdlings’ help. Maybe now you’ll see the value of making peace with them.”

* * *

9:01 PM - Group 2

Just when Desmond was starting to wonder if something had gone wrong back home, the second group appeared and dropped to the ground within the marked bridge-in zone. In the last hour, his eyes had adjusted to the increasing darkness, but these new refugees were coming from a fully lit, white room. Completely blind, their bridge-in was even more chaotic than the first group’s. They fell to the ground and floundered, a mass of thrashing arms and legs.

“You’re okay!” Desmond shouted from the sideline. “Focus on my voice. Can everyone hear me?”

Amidst the cursing and retching, there were a few acknowledgements from those who were relatively calm. Desmond then put his hand on Zachariah’s shoulder. “They’re all yours, man.” He then stepped back to let the parasitologist take over. This had been Infinity’s idea. She’d pointed out the logic of having one of the colonists develop a pattern of leadership as soon as possible, and Zachariah was the logical choice. This would reduce the chance of a chaotic scramble for power after Desmond and Infinity bridged back.

The camel herd had eventually wandered off and disappeared into the darkness somewhere. The refugees from group one had fallen into somber silence, reluctant to interact with Infinity, although it had helped when she had ordered some of them to sit with Lorissa to comfort her. The tough-looking military guy, who had said his name was Leon, had stepped up and explained to the group that Infinity’s logic was sound, regardless of her blunt-force tact. It would be suicide to try to take the thirdling’s village. Desmond could see that Leon was likely to be a positive force in the colony’s critical first days here. Hopefully, many more like him would bridge in with the remaining thirty-four groups.

Desmond sat on the ground next to Infinity and Leon. For some minutes, they watched Zachariah’s orientation session with the new arrivals.

Finally, Leon said, “By my reckoning, when daylight arrives, we’re going to have 240 folks sitting here in the grass, nude and vulnerable. By sunset tomorrow, we’ll have five hundred. They’re going to need water, and soon they’ll need food. I figure there’s a water source here for the livestock. How about you put a few of us to work finding it?”

Desmond nodded at the logic of this.

“No,” Infinity said. Then she seemed to hesitate. “Well, I’ll explain, and then I want you to give me your opinion.”

“You got it,” Leon said.

“Disease from the livestock water source, for one thing, although we may want to get Zachariah’s thoughts on that. But more importantly, I’m concerned about having some of us wandering around and running into thirdlings in the dark. It may startle the thirdlings and trigger a conflict. So I was thinking we’d wait until morning, and then Desmond, and maybe myself or Zachariah, can walk to the village. Since the thirdlings are already familiar with us, they shouldn’t be too alarmed. Desmond can explain—maybe using drawings, something he’s already been doing—that we’ve brought others with us. So by the time the thirdlings see the growing colony here, they’ll at least have had a heads-up.” She stopped and waited.

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Leon said. “What if these thirdlings aren’t exactly thrilled to see so many of us squatting on their land?”

Infinity nodded her head. “Then we have to convince them we can be useful.”

Leon let out a low whistle. “And you said these things are only half our size? And their village is only 150 individuals?”

“More like a third of our mass,” Desmond said.

Leon shook his head. “There’s no way they can provide for us. It would be like feeding over 2,000 more thirdlings.”

“Now you’re starting to get it,” Infinity said.

* * *

August 27 - 6:43 AM - Group 12

Desmond gave up trying to sleep and sat up to watch the sun rising over the tree tops. At least with a new refugee group showing up every hour on the hour, he had a rough idea of what time it was. He and Infinity had tried to sleep, but another group would bridge in within minutes, resulting in a repeat of the same noisy confusion and another identical orientation session from Zachariah. And now the sun was up. It was time to go meet with the thirdlings—and then hope for the best.

He glanced over at Lorissa. She was now alone, curled up on her side and cradling her jaw with both hands. Desmond couldn’t tell if she was awake or asleep.

“There! Look at that. What are those?” It was a man’s voice. The guy stood up.

Desmond turned to look where he was pointing, toward the thirdling village. Camels were walking two-by-two along the road between fenced pastures, at least fifty pairs of them. And a thirdling was mounted on every camel. Desmond’s gut tightened.

He shook Infinity’s shoulder. “I hate to wake you, but the thirdlings are coming to us.”

She sat up, immediately alert.

“One of them must have spotted us and gone back to alert the entire village,” he said.

The refugees all began standing up, which in itself could have been perceived by the thirdlings as threatening. In fact, the riders at the front of the column saw the wave of humans rising from the grass and stopped to stare. But seconds later, they urged their camels forward. They stopped when they reached the gate to the pasture and dismounted to open it.

Infinity and Desmond got to their feet. She raised her hands above her head. “Everyone look at me and listen! These are the thirdlings we’ve told you about. I’m not going to lie. The next few minutes may determine whether this colony lives or dies. You need their help. Don’t be aggressive in any way. I need to know you all understand. Raise your hand if you do.”

Over two hundred hands went up. Lorissa was now sitting up, and she appeared to be the only one with both hands down. But Desmond was pretty sure she was incapable of interfering.

The thirdlings filed through the gate two at a time, coming straight for the mass of humans.

Infinity moved closer to Lorissa and gestured toward the ground beside her. “Gather together and sit here in a tight group.”

Mostly silent, they all complied, filling up an area thirty yards across.

The lead thirdlings stopped, and those behind them fanned out and took position shoulder to shoulder. When they were all in place, the entire line moved forward as a unit. Desmond wasn’t surprised to see that most of them carried bows with arrows already nocked. He tried to imagine what would happen if the thirdlings attacked. They were outnumbered by humans two to one. But the humans were naked and defenseless. The first few seconds would be a slaughter, although by sheer numbers, some of the humans might charge the thirdlings and pull them from their camels.

“We’re counting on their peaceful intentions,” Infinity announced, as if she had read Desmond’s thoughts. “But if they do attack, we can overcome them. We outnumber them by a factor of two, and each of you is three times their weight. As long as they remain peaceful, don’t do anything aggressive. But if they attack, embrace the fear you’re feeling and fight for your life. Kill them any way you can. I need to know you understand me!”

A sea of hands went up again.

“I’ve never been in a fight in my life,” a man near Desmond muttered.

The line of mounted thirdlings folded around the humans in a half circle and stopped at about forty yards out. Their singsong voices rippled around the formation as they talked.

Desmond scanned through them until he spotted Jane. He raised his hands and approached her. “Jane, these are my friends. Please don’t be afraid, okay?”

When he was fifteen yards from her, several thirdlings to either side raised their bows, ready to pull them back. He stopped, hands still raised, trying to keep his eyes focused on the thirdling he knew best.

“Bera-noo-noo-noo,” Jane said. She was watching him intently.

“Bera-noo-noo-noo,” Desmond repeated back. “I’m sorry we disappeared on you yesterday. And I’m sorry I lost the pants you gave me.” He smiled and then slowly gestured toward his bare groin.

Her eyes drifted down the length of his body and back to his face. She was not smiling.

A distant howl drew Desmond’s attention away from Jane. He turned as two more howls followed the first. The refugees were turning, too, looking toward the perimeter fence. And then Desmond saw them. Three orcs were at the fence, staring through the slats, grunting and howling, apparently infuriated by the presence of humans.

He turned back to Jane and the thirdlings. “Phenomenally unfortunate timing,” he said. “I imagine you’re learning to associate us with trouble.”

At that moment, another commotion arose from the humans. Desmond turned to see twenty fresh refugees floundering for balance and shouting in confusion.

“Salanoo-too-we-noo!” cried one of the thirdlings. This was followed by similar shouts from dozens of others. Their camels had also been startled by the sudden appearance of twenty more humans, and many of them grunted and darted out of formation, jostling each other and even knocking some of the riders to the ground.

More howls erupted from the orcs at the fence, and Desmond realized the first three had been joined by more—a lot more.

13

Niloka-ree-roh-roh

August 27 - 7:04 AM

Infinity tried assessing possible courses of action but came up with a fat zero. She was a bridger, not a crowd-control expert. The humans—all 240 of them—were caught between enraged orcs and armed thirdlings. Twenty of the refugees had no idea what was happening, and the rest were on the verge of panic.

If previous experience held true, the orcs would start coming over or through the fence at any moment. The only chance for the refugees was to convince the thirdlings that humans were valuable allies. And Infinity could think of only one way to do that.

“Listen to me!” she shouted. “I know you’re scared, and I know you have no weapons. But if you want to live, we have to stop those orcs from getting over the fence. Some of them are probably going to try. If we kill the few that do, that should deter the rest of them. I’m asking you to fight. Every last one of you. Fight to save your colony, to save the human species. Fight for your goddamn life!”

Zachariah was beside Infinity. He spoke softly. “Are you sure that’s not suicide?”

She ignored him and glanced at the thirdlings. They were talking rapidly to each other, still trying to get their camels under control. She then turned to the fence, where there were now at least twenty orcs. Three of them were climbing, already negotiating the downturned spikes.

Desmond had backed away from the thirdlings and was now at her side. “Only you would come up with the idea of fighting monsters with our bare hands. I’m scared shitless, but I’m with you.”

“And I’m with you, too,” Zachariah said.

“So am I,” Leon said as he emerged from the crowd of terrified refugees.

Infinity nodded. She then spoke loud enough for the others to hear. “Then that’s a start. If the rest of you decide to leave it to only a few, then you’re all going to die.” She pushed her way through the throng of refugees and ran for the perimeter fence, not bothering to look back. The others would either help or they wouldn’t.

The orcs went completely berserk as she approached the fence. They jumped up and down and struck the wood with their fists while howling with rage. Infinity went straight for the spot where three of them were coming over the top, already bloodied from pushing through the spikes. She took a quick glance over her shoulder. Most of the refugees had followed her, and behind them were the mounted thirdlings, looking very much like they were herding the humans to the fence.

She stopped and waited for the climbing orcs, ignoring the almost deafening howls of the others below them. The first orc cleared the top of the fence. Instead of climbing down, he launched himself into the air and dropped the entire twelve feet, landing facing Infinity.

Leon darted around her from behind and went straight for the orc, followed by Desmond and Zachariah. Leon tackled the creature head on, driving it back against the fence. It grabbed Leon’s head between its massive hands, lifted him off his feet, and sunk its teeth into the man’s throat. And then Desmond struck at its face while Zachariah dove for its legs and wrapped his arms around its knees.

Still gripping Leon in its mouth, it struck out at Desmond, hitting his shoulder and sending him rolling to the side.

Infinity sensed the crowd of refugees coming up behind her, so she leapt at the orc and grabbed its left arm. “Go for its arms and legs!”

Refugees threw themselves at the creature. It hit the fence, staggered to the side, and fell, swinging and growling and taking a dozen humans down with it. It released Leon’s limp body and screamed, trying desperately to get its teeth into anything else it could reach. The jostling of bodies forced a man’s shoulder too close, and the orc bit into the flesh. The man, who Infinity hadn’t even met yet, pulled his shoulder free, losing a fist-size chunk of skin and muscle, and began pummeling the creature’s face with his good arm.

The orc hissed and spat and fought like a mountain of muscle, but refugees kept piling on, holding down its arms and legs.

Buried beneath fighting bodies and still holding the creature’s left arm, Infinity shouted, “Now kill the son of a bitch! Destroy its eyes and throat.”

At least three good-sized men began pounding away at its face, grunting like animals with every punch, relentlessly turning it into pulp.

Screams came from somewhere beyond the pile of fighting refugees, and suddenly the weight of a second orc landed on the bodies above Infinity, nearly crushing her cheek into the ground. The second orc yanked two of the bodies off and threw them both against the fence like rag dolls. As the orc reached down to grab another human, it was swarmed from behind by countless refugees. Under the crushing mass of bodies, it fell to the ground beside the first orc, which had now stopped struggling.

Infinity pulled herself from the orc’s carcass and the fighting mass. “You can stop!” she shouted. “It’s dead.” But her words were lost in the screams and chaos.

“Infinity!” It was Desmond’s voice.

She swung around in time to see a third orc land on top of two men. Like an enraged gorilla, it swung both its fists down upon the refugees with deadly force, striking them in a blur until they stopped moving. As more refugees came at it, it picked up one of the men by the head and swung the body, knocking several of them to the ground. Desmond, standing to the side, waited for it to take another swing, and then he rushed in and went to the ground like he was sliding to second base. His leading foot hit the orc’s ankle, knocking the creature off balance. And then dozens of humans, including Infinity, were on top of it, driving it to its knees and then to its back. Seconds later, the same three men were on top, striking its face with the powerful blows they had delivered to the first orc.

In the midst of this struggle, Infinity heard an even more terrifying sound—the cracking of a wood fence slat.

The orc beneath her was subdued and would soon be dead, so she rolled from the pile and got to her feet just as the orcs at the fence wrenched the cracked slat in two. Immediately, dozens of orc hands gripped the slat beneath it and began pulling. “I need help here,” she cried.

A handful of refugees appeared at her side.

She glared at the main mass of humans who had not yet joined the fight. They were hanging back, obviously terrified. “Get your asses over here, all of you!”

The refugees glanced at each other. Then they moved forward. At first only a few, but then the entire crowd.

“We can’t let them come through this fence,” Infinity said just as the second slat began to crack. “If they all get through, we’re as good as dead. But even if they make the hole big enough, it’s still going to be a bottleneck. And we have the numbers needed to kill them one at a time. If we kill enough of them, the rest will give up.”

The second board broke, and the orcs pulled it loose. Two orcs thrust their heads through the gap, their eyes filled with rabid hatred.

Infinity took one step and kicked one of them, crushing its nose. Instead of pulling back, it snarled and pushed even harder, the lower slat cutting into its neck.

“They’re going to kill us,” a woman said. “We can’t stop them.”

“We have to!” Infinity cried. But she knew the woman was right. They had managed to kill three of the orcs, but if all of these orcs came swarming through the fence at once, the refugees would panic and scatter.

“Loo-roh-roh-roh. Niloka-ree-roh-roh!”

Infinity looked beyond the refugees. Most of the thirdlings were back in formation, arranged in a semicircle with their camels shoulder to shoulder. They held their bows ready.

Jane, sitting on her camel in the midst of the formation, sang, “Niloka-ree-roh-roh!”

The thirdlings leaned forward, and their camels walked toward the fence, closing in on the humans. Everything became quiet, including the orcs on the other side of the fence as they peered through the gaps, perhaps wondering what would happen next. Infinity looked over at the refugees who had been fighting. They were getting to their feet, standing over three dead orcs. On the ground were seven dead humans, including Leon, and six more that were alive but too hurt to get up.

The thirdlings inched forward, pushing the humans as close to the fence as they could get without the orcs reaching through and grabbing them.

Infinity found Desmond among the others and their eyes met. He nodded at her as if they had just had some kind of telepathic exchange.

He stepped toward the thirdlings. “Jane, we hope you can see that we’re on your side. We can help you.”

Infinity studied Jane’s tiny face. Her eyes were wide. But they were always wide, so this didn’t really mean she was afraid. It was impossible to tell her age, but she seemed slightly more weathered than most of the other thirdlings. From the way the others kept glancing at her, she was obviously important. It was possible that her opinion at this moment could determine the fate of the entire human colony.

“Loo-roh-roh-roh, niloka-ree-roh-roh,” she sang, this time much more quietly. She then motioned for the humans to move to the side.

Infinity didn’t waste time wondering what this meant. She turned to the others. “Go. Slowly. Don’t do anything to alarm them.” She pointed to the injured. “Help them up and bring them with us.”

The refugees gathered the fallen and shuffled to the side.

Quietly at first, the orcs began snorting, almost like a chant. “Chuh. Chuh. Chuh! Chuh!”

The thirdlings advanced toward the fence and pulled back their bows.

“Chuh! Chuh! Chuh!” The orcs began pounding the fence, working themselves into another frenzy.

Without any obvious command or warning, the thirdlings released their arrows. Nearly a hundred shafts flew into the fence. About half of them were stopped by the slats, but the rest passed through.

Dozens of orcs screamed in anger and pain, and Infinity could see several of them floundering on the ground. Those that weren’t critically injured flew into a rage unlike anything Infinity had ever seen. Instead of fleeing from the onslaught of arrows, they threw themselves at the fence, some of them climbing and others tearing at the partial hole with renewed determination.

The thirdlings nocked new arrows. But now their camels were shuffling back and forth, obviously terrified by the orcs’ fury. Another board cracked, and then another crack came from ahead of the shuffling humans. The orcs were working on a second hole.

Another volley of arrows flew into the fence, many of them harmlessly striking the wood. Now the camels were nearly in a panic, and the thirdlings had to fight to get them under control. Another board broke and was pulled away from the first hole. An orc fought its way through the opening, immediately falling and writhing on the ground with dozens of arrows in its body. Another orc came through behind it. This one made it to the nearest camel, pulled the thirdling from its back, and threw the thirdling against the ground before collapsing with arrows in its neck and shoulders. Another orc came through behind that one, and then another. The thirdlings couldn’t nock their arrows fast enough.

“Move away from the fence,” Infinity ordered. “Toward the thirdling village.” She had no idea if the thirdlings would allow them near the village, but there was simply no other choice. The orcs could certainly outrun the refugees, but some might escape by sheer numbers.

The thirdlings pulled away from the fence, with orcs running after them.

“Stay with the thirdlings!” Infinity cried.

The refugees broke into a run, angling toward the retreating camels and riders. But this put them into the line of sight of the running orcs, and the orcs turned and headed straight for them.

As the thirdlings converged on the pasture’s gate, the herd of riderless camels blocked their way, obviously terrified and seeking an exit from the pasture. The thirdlings had no choice but to turn and face the pursuing humans and orcs. They quickly gathered into a mass with their bows pointed outward.

Infinity heard a scream and paused to look back. The injured refugees had been abandoned by their helpers, and the leading orcs were just catching up to them. Infinity cried out in anger as the orcs leapt upon the helpless people. It took them only seconds to thrash the injured refugees until they fell silent. The orcs stood over their victims, staring at the retreating mass of refugees as if uncertain what to do. And then they resumed the chase.

As the humans converged on the thirdlings and their camels, the thirdlings raised their bows.

Infinity was ready to order the refugees to stop, but she didn’t have to. The entire group came to halt for fear of being shot. They were trapped. She turned around to face the charging orcs. At least fifteen orcs were less than a hundred yards out, running straight for them. And in the distance, more orcs were coming through the fence.

“Please help us!” a woman cried out, pleading to the thirdlings.

The orcs were only seconds away. But they stopped abruptly. They had heard something. They turned and looked back.

“Oh my God,” someone said.

And then Infinity saw it. Twenty new refugees—the thirteenth group—had appeared and were floundering at the bridge-in location, crying out in their confusion.

The orcs turned back, apparently deciding the new arrivals would involve less risk than facing armed thirdlings.

Infinity balled her fists and stared. The orcs surrounded the confused refugees. And then they moved in. Screams of pain and terror ripped into Infinity’s senses, choking her up and flooding her consciousness with guilt. There was nothing she could do to save them.

As she watched, a figure lifted its head from the grass a short distance from the massacre. One of the orcs spotted the figure and ran over to it. After looking down at it for several long seconds, it slowly kneeled and took the figure’s head in its hands. And then Lorissa’s cry rose above all the others. Until it suddenly stopped.

“We have to go, Infinity.” Desmond was pulling her by the arm.

She blinked and looked around. The thirdlings had opened the gate, and most of them were already through it. Scattered among the camels, the refugees were going with them. And the thirdlings seemed to be allowing it.

14

Shelter

August 27 - 8:12 AM

The slaughtered refugees’ screams reverberated through Desmond’s consciousness. The fact that the refugees had no idea of the horror they were bridging into made their fate seem all the worse.

For whatever reason, the thirdlings were allowing the two hundred or so surviving humans to take shelter within their formation, interspersed among the walking camels as they approached the village perimeter. Desmond turned to look back at the bridge-in site. A few orcs were still hunched over the slaughtered refugees, possibly feeding on them. But the majority of the creatures—about twenty—were now following the procession of thirdlings, camels, and naked humans. They were keeping their distance, no doubt aware of the lethality of the thirdlings’ bows. But occasional eruptions of aggressive screaming made it clear they were intent on continuing their rampage.

He turned to Infinity and Zachariah walking at his side. Infinity wore a tormented frown. She was no doubt agonizing over leaving the bridge-in site.

“There’s nothing we could have done,” he said. “The orcs will eventually leave the area. Then we can return to protect the rest of the incoming groups.” He tried to sound positive but suspected his despair seeped through.

She shot a glance at him. “There are only two scenarios for that: either we convince the thirdlings to help us defend the site, or we convince them to give us a few hundred weapons. Neither of those are likely.”

“But both scenarios are possible,” Zachariah said with characteristic optimism. “Particularly the latter of the two. They seem to have an overabundance of weapons on hand. For good reason, no doubt.”

As they entered the village, young thirdlings swarmed out the door of the combat-training facility to greet them. But then the kids saw the mass of humans, and they stopped and stared. Several thirdlings sang out a sharp message, and the children ran back inside the structure. The adult thirdlings ordered their camels to kneel, and they dismounted. They formed a line facing the stalking orcs, with their bows ready. They hadn’t taken the time to tie off their camels, and the creatures nervously bunched up and began moving parallel to the nearest pasture fence, headed away from the orcs.

The absence of the camels seemed to embolden the orcs somewhat, and they came to within fifty yards of the thirdlings, presumably just out of bow range.

Trying to avoid drawing too much attention from the thirdlings, Desmond and Infinity quietly beckoned the refugees to come together in a tight group behind the defensive line. Desmond worried that at any moment the thirdlings would decide the humans were not their responsibility, and that would almost certainly end in disaster.

The young thirdlings came pouring back out of the training center carrying maces and axes. They came straight for the humans, and for a moment Desmond thought they intended to attack. But instead they stopped in front of Infinity. The nearest one, a boy less than thirty inches tall, smiled at her and handed her a mace. He then turned and handed a copper-bladed axe to Desmond. The remaining kids handed over their weapons, smiling at the refugees as they did so. Then they ran back into the structure. Seconds later, they were back with more weapons, and they handed those out as well.

Now at least fifty humans were armed with maces or axes, perhaps enough to fight off several orcs. But not enough if the orcs came at them all at once.

“This feels damn good in my hand,” Infinity said, giving her mace a few practice swings. “We’re going back to the bridge-in site. Now.”

Desmond frowned at her. “Um, we’d be facing all those orcs at once. More than twenty. Even with these,” he held up his axe, “we’d lose a lot of people.”

She sighed and turned to look out over the heads of the thirdlings. “Oh, shit.”

Desmond looked. The band of orcs was still out about fifty yards. But then movement drew his attention to the distant bridge-in site. Now, in addition to the few orcs that had remained there with the human corpses, another mass of orcs had appeared. It was hard to discern how many, but it looked like the total number of orcs within the perimeter fence had at least doubled. As Desmond stared, the new orcs turned and began walking toward the village.

A flurry of voices passed through the line of thirdlings. Apparently they had realized there were now too many orcs to hold off, and they all began backing toward the center of the village as a group, forcing the humans to retreat ahead of them. The original group of orcs advanced, still keeping their distance but becoming increasingly agitated. The new group of orcs began running, apparently sensing some urgency. They came upon the short camel-pasture fence and quickly scrambled over it. They ran down the road, now only a few hundred yards away.

The thirdlings responded by picking up the pace, headed straight for the stronghold at the center of the village.

“It appears we have a serious problem,” Zachariah said. “The thirdlings intend to take shelter in their fortress. Where does that leave us?”

The first orcs were now at the edge of the village, and in seconds the new group of orcs would join them.

“It leaves us alone and exposed,” Infinity replied. “We’re not waiting until that happens. Listen, everyone! Get into groups of twenty or thirty. Make sure each group has some of the weapons. And then run to the nearest structure and lock yourselves in. One group per structure. Do it now!”

For a moment, the refugees simply looked around like they weren’t sure what she meant. Desmond realized the thirdlings might not like this. He found Jane in the line of retreating thirdlings and stepped up behind her. “Jane, I’m sorry, but can we hide in your houses?” He pointed to one of the houses as they walked past it.

She turned to stare at him.

He walked over to the nearest door and reached for its handle. Unlocked, the door swung open to the inside. “There are too many of us,” he said. “We’d like to—”

“I said, do it now!” Infinity shouted, apparently unaware of Desmond’s attempt at preemptive diplomacy.

The refugees scattered in loose groups, spreading out to the structures. Jane then saw what they were doing. She glanced at Desmond without expression, but neither she nor any of the other thirdlings made any move to stop this invasion of their homes.

Some of the orcs howled. They must have seen the humans splitting up, because now they were charging through the village. They angled toward one of the refugee groups, trying to head off the humans before they made it to a dwelling. The orcs disappeared behind several dwellings.

“Go, go, go,” Infinity cried. “They’re coming!”

The thirdlings reached the stronghold and began filing through the door. Jane turned one more time to look at Desmond, but again her face showed no recognizable expression. She slipped through the door and was gone.

A chorus of human screams and orc howls indicated the orcs had intercepted one of the refugee groups. Infinity ran around the edge of the nearest dwelling toward the cries, and Desmond followed. But then they both stopped. The mass of orcs were just catching up to the last of a group of humans desperately trying to push through the door to one of the domed houses. Six refugees were still outside the structure when the orcs fell upon them in a horrifying blur of flying fists and snarling jaws. The humans inside the house managed to get the door shut, but there was no saving those left outside.

“Goddammit!” Infinity muttered.

Desmond looked around. About ten refugees, including Zachariah, were still standing beside the thirdlings’ stronghold, apparently waiting for further direction from the bridgers. The others had dispersed to the dwellings and with any luck were safely barricaded. Infinity was still staring at the murdering orcs, even though the human screams had already stopped.

Desmond grabbed her arm. “You can’t help them. Come on, let’s focus on what we can do.”

At that moment, one of the orcs spotted them. The creature immediately howled and charged.

Desmond and Infinity ran back to the remaining refugees. “This way,” Infinity cried.

They skirted around two dwellings already occupied by refugees and headed for a larger dome that was likely to be empty. Desmond glanced over his shoulder in time to see four orcs barreling around a dwelling, no more than ten seconds behind them. The larger dome’s door wasn’t visible, so they ran around the right perimeter and found the door on the opposite side. Zachariah shouldered his way past the refugees who had arrived before him and tried the door. It swung open to the interior. For a moment he hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure he should be first, but then he dove through.

“Inside, now!” Infinity ordered.

The refugees crouched and pushed through the opening two at a time.

Desmond heard the orcs coming around the side of the dwelling—heavy footsteps and wheezing grunts. And then they were there, only ten yards away. At first they headed away from the dwelling, apparently thinking the humans had run beyond it. But they stopped and turned.

“Shit,” Infinity said. “Go!” She kicked the last two refugees through the door and then dove through. “Get in here, bridger!”

The orcs charged. Desmond’s mind locked up. He was seconds from death, and all he could do was stare at the creatures. He stumbled back, pressing against the door frame. There was pressure on his ankle, and suddenly his feet were pulled from beneath him. He fell on his face and was dragged in through the door.

But it was too late. The first orc hit the door as Zachariah was trying to push it shut. Zachariah desperately shoved his substantial weight against the door, but the orc managed to slip its arm around the edge and clamp its fingers onto Zachariah’s neck.

Zachariah’s feet flailed as he tried to get leverage against the door. “Help me!”

Frustrated howls came from the other side of the door, which was so small that only one orc at a time could position itself to push on it.

Desmond, Infinity, and every one of the refugees converged on the door, piling on top of Zachariah in an attempt to block the orc from pushing it open. Under the pressure of human bodies, Desmond’s cheek was pressed against the orc’s grimy forearm, and he caught a whiff of feral sweat. He managed to turn his head and then sank his teeth into the creature’s arm, biting and pulling until hot blood ran down his chin and into his throat.

“Get his hand off my neck!” Zachariah cried, his voice muffled beneath the pile of struggling bodies.

Desmond shifted his head to the creature’s wrist and bit down again, tearing side to side, trying to open an artery, to gnaw it to the bone if necessary. The orc howled with rage and pulled its arm back, finally releasing Zachariah.

The door slammed shut, and someone grappled with the heavy latch until it fell into place.

One at a time, the humans pulled themselves from the pile as the furious orcs pounded and kicked harmlessly against the locked door.

Desmond pushed himself up from the floor and stood looking around the interior of the dwelling. Infinity got to her feet beside him.

“Holy crap,” Desmond said.

The floor was littered with wood shavings. In the center of the open space were several short, thirdling-sized tables, each of them covered with freshly-made wooden handles, copper axe blades, and four-bladed mace heads. And against the rounded outer wall were racks of completed axes and maces.

They were in a weapons-assembly shop.

15

Plan

August 27 - 8:56 AM - Group 14

While the others wandered around inspecting the room, Infinity stood at one of the window slits, listening and watching for orcs. The creatures had abandoned their packs and were now roaming freely through the village individually and in pairs. She watched two of them pounding on doors until they found an open dwelling. One at a time, they forced their massive bodies through the tiny doorway. Evidently finding it empty, they came back out a minute or so later and moved on.

Just as she was turning away from the window, the sound of frantic screaming came from somewhere outside.

“Do you hear that?” one of the women asked. “They’re getting into the houses.”

Infinity moved her ear closer to the window. The screams were too far away to be from one of the village dwellings. Her eyes met Desmond’s.

“It’s the bridge-in site,” he said. “Group fourteen must have arrived.”

“But the orcs are here in the village,” the woman said.

Desmond turned to her. “Apparently not all of them.”

Infinity pressed a hand to one ear, trying to ignore the talking, and pressed her other ear to the window slit. She closed her eyes and listened to the distant screams. She wanted to hear every one of them, to feel the refugees’ pain and fear. She at least owed them that. She was the lead bridger for this whole screwed-up effort, and the refugees she was here to protect were being slaughtered.

Warm fingers grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her hand from her ear. “Infinity, stop.” It was Desmond.

She yanked her hand from his grip. But then she realized her scalp burned. She looked at her fingertips. The dead portions of her fingernails had been removed while bridging, but the remaining nail stubs had scraped skin from her scalp.

“Are you okay?” He was gazing at her, lines of concern etched on his face.

“We just lost another twenty refugees,” she said. “Are you okay with that?”

“No, of course not. So let’s figure out how we’re going to take back the bridge-in site. Otherwise the next group will be wiped out, too. And the group after that.” He waved his hand in an arc. “We’ve got all these weapons.”

A huge face darkened the window slit next to Infinity. The orc sniffed the air and tilted its head so it could see in with both eyes. It then spotted Infinity’s face only inches from the slit. It grunted and thrust its hand into the window. But the slit was only three inches wide, stopping the orc’s arm at the wrist.

Flushed with rage, Infinity grabbed an axe from the rack beside her and swung it at the orc’s meaty hand. The blade cut into the wrist, nearly severing it. The orc screamed and pulled back. But the dangling hand jammed in the tight space. Infinity hacked at it again, chopping off one of the fingers, and then the hand was gone. The furious orc pounded at the window with its good hand, but the thirdlings’ dwellings were designed for this.

Infinity snatched the severed finger from the floor and threw it through the window slit at the orc. “Ugly son of a bitch!”

Breathing hard, she turned away from the window, screamed, and threw the axe at the far wall. It hit a rack of maces and several of them clattered to the floor. The refugees stared at her as if they thought she might turn her anger on them.

“Infinity?”

She shot a glance at Desmond. She blinked. Then she wiped her eyes. Goddammit. Tears. She couldn’t remember the last time she had shed tears.

“We’ll make a plan, and then we’ll take back the bridge-in site,” Desmond said, his voice measured and calm.

She nodded. But it seemed impossible. There were only twelve of them together in this room. The village was crawling with orcs. And how many more had come in through the perimeter fence?

“Let’s put our heads together and think about this,” Desmond said. “The thirdlings have given us some weapons already. And we have a lot more in here.”

“I’ll get an inventory of what we have,” Zachariah said, and he went to to the nearest rack to start counting.

Infinity took a deep breath and let it out. “We’re still probably close to two hundred strong. If we can get a weapon into the hands of every human, and then get everyone together into one group, we could be a formidable force.” But the orcs were each at least three hundred pounds of pure muscle. In her head, she envisioned two hundred armed but inexperienced humans walking across the pasture to the bridge-in site. And then she pictured forty enraged orcs charging into their midst, killing humans with their bare fists and ripping their limbs from their bodies.

She paced back and forth, kicking wood shavings with her bare feet. “The last I could tell, there were about forty orcs within the outer perimeter fence. That’s too damn many. One way or another, we have to reduce that number. There’s a chance we could handle twenty, but not forty.”

Zachariah paused in his counting. “What are the chances we could isolate them. Kill them a few at a time?”

“That might be possible,” Desmond said. “What if we watch through the windows for a single orc to approach. Then we open the door and call out to it. I’m pretty sure it will come straight for us. After it comes through the door, one of us is ready to shut the door behind it and lock it. And then we kill it. There are twelve of us, and we have weapons. We kill it, and then we do it all over again.”

Infinity gazed at the others. Besides Zachariah, there were nine other refugees, six women and three men. None of them looked enthusiastic about this plan. It was likely at least one person would be killed or seriously injured each time an orc came through the door. At least. If they were lucky, they might kill four or five orcs this way, but then their own losses would shift the odds. And if two orcs managed to get through the door at once, well, that would be the end of that.

“Bad plan,” she said. “Think it through.”

Desmond frowned. But then he shrugged.

Something jiggled the copper door, and they all turned to look. It jiggled again, and then the creature on the other side struck it hard, drawing cries of alarm from several of the refugees. A dark shape passed by the first window slit on the left as the orc moved on.

“I count 71 axes and 89 maces,” Zachariah said. “A total of 160 weapons.”

Desmond said, “Counting what the thirdling children gave us, that’s over two hundred. Enough to arm every refugee.”

“One of us can sneak out,” Zachariah said. “Go quietly to each of the other dwellings and give them more weapons, then convince each group to carry out the same plan we just discussed. If each group killed only one orc, perhaps that would adequately reduce the numbers.”

Infinity faced the nine refugees. “Would you carry out this plan if there were no bridgers there to force you to do it?”

“Not a chance,” one of the men said.

Several of the others shook their heads.

Infinity sighed loudly and went back to pacing.

* * *

1:01 PM - Group 18

Infinity stood near one of the windows, listening. Although it was difficult to tell, she was pretty sure it had been at least an hour since the last refugee group had arrived. Like all the others, the group had promptly been slaughtered by orcs, their screams drifting across the village to torment her once again. This time might be different. She hadn’t seen an orc pass by outside for at least twenty minutes. They had given up and left the village. And since no screams were coming from the bridge-in site, that meant the orcs had finally left the pasture as well.

A smile began to form on her face as she stared through the window, listening. But then suddenly the screams came again, as distinct and horror-filled as they had been every time before. Another twenty helpless refugees, snuffed out by creatures that were now obviously killing them only for sport. Or for hatred of some other species that only came here in the winter and had nothing to do with humans from Infinity’s world.

Infinity grabbed an axe and struck the wall, burying the copper blade in the dried clay. She pulled it out and hit the wall again and again until her arm was tired.

“Okay, that’s it,” Desmond said, walking up behind her. “We’re implementing our plan now.”

She turned to him, panting. She realized the slaughter of this last group of refugees was her breaking point. She would rather die than allow the orcs to kill one more group. “Damn right we are.”

She and Desmond began gathering armloads of maces.

“May I bring up one factor I’ve been considering?” Zachariah asked.

They both paused.

“Just a thought, although I’d like your assurance that you won’t break my jaw.” He looked directly at Infinity.

“We don’t have time for this,” she said and went back to gathering weapons.

“The goal of this colony is to save the human species, is it not?” Zachariah didn’t wait for them to answer. “Considering the problems we have already identified regarding the viability of this world, it is quite possible that the colony will have a better chance of surviving with only the existing two hundred souls.”

Infinity stopped what she was doing and stared at him. “If I’ve counted right, group eighteen just arrived. And they were massacred. So another eighteen groups are yet to come. Three hundred and sixty people. What the hell are you suggesting?”

He held his hands up and shook his head. “Never mind. It was just a concern I’ve been mulling over. I’ve been trying to do the math, and I can’t figure out where all these people are going to live.”

“You and the other colonists can figure that out later,” Infinity said.

“Indeed. Yes. Later. I apologize. And you can count on me when we attempt to clear the bridge-in site.”

Infinity’s eyes met Desmond’s. Something about his expression suggested he’d been struggling with the same logic. But right or wrong, it didn’t matter. There was no way in hell they were going to stay in this room and let orcs kill the rest of the colony. Even if there was a good chance the refugees would all die in the coming weeks anyway.

Infinity turned to the other nine refugees. “Grab as many weapons as you can carry. We’re going now.”

The plan had actually been Desmond’s idea, but the entire group had considered several variations of it before agreeing. And then for several hours Infinity had drilled the others in a few basic skills that might give them a better chance of injuring an orc.

It was obvious the refugees were terrified, but, to their credit, they responded without hesitating and filled their arms with maces and axes. Infinity took one last walk around the wall of the circular room, looking out every window slit for orcs. She spotted none, so they gathered at the door.

“Remember, they look almost human, but they’re stupid. Duck low to the side and cut. Duck low to the side and cut. It’ll be hard to remember that at the moment you most need to remember it. So I want you to repeat it in your head. Each time you repeat it, visualize the move. Do that over and over again, starting now. And don’t stop until we’ve taken back the bridge-in site.” She looked them each in the eye, one at a time. Most of them nodded, and a few moved their lips as they silently repeated the words.

She put her hand on the latch to the door, but then she turned to them again. “There’s nothing wrong with being afraid. It keeps your muscles tense and your mind sharp.” Actually, this wasn’t exactly true. Fear was distracting, and the best fighters were capable of clearing it from their minds. But there was no point in telling them that.

She threw the latch and ducked through the doorway. The August sun was intense, and the air outside was much warmer than inside the weapons shop. The village was silent, and she saw no movement. But that didn’t mean it was safe.

“Come on out,” she hissed at the others. Soon they were all standing outside the building, loaded with weapons but looking vulnerable and uneasy. “Duck low to the side and cut. Think it and visualize it. Now stay together.” She headed to the nearest dwelling. When they were beside it, she put her face to one of the window slits. “Refugees! It’s Infinity Fowler.”

There was no response. The interior looked empty. So she went to the door and tried it. It swung open to the inside. She turned and looked around at the other structures. The village included at least forty dwellings, and she had no idea which ones the scattering refugees had taken shelter in. This was going to take more time than she’d hoped.

Logically, they should have split up. But their strength was in numbers, so that wasn’t happening. She led the group to the next dwelling and spoke through a window slit.

A face appeared in the slit. “We thought everyone else might have been killed,” the woman said. “We heard screaming. Are those monsters gone?”

“What’s your name?” Infinity asked, ignoring the woman’s question.

“Maisie.”

“Listen, Maisie. We have weapons and we have a plan to save the lives of the 360 refugees of your colony who haven’t arrived yet. But it will only work if every one of us participates. I need all of you to come out and join us. We’ll give each of you a weapon.”

Maisie hesitated. “You want us to fight again?”

“I want you to live. And I want your colony to live. I need you all out here now.”

A man’s voice came from beyond the woman’s face. “If they have weapons, let’s do it.”

Maisie looked past Infinity, first to one side and then to the other. “Are you sure they’re gone?”

“We haven’t seen any in thirty minutes.”

Another pause. “Okay, we’re coming.”

Seconds later, nineteen refugees ducked through the door and squinted in the sunlight. They were each handed a mace or an axe, and Infinity quietly told them to stay together with the entire group.

They moved to the next dwelling, and soon the group grew by another twenty five.

* * *

1:50 PM - Group 19

The mob of naked but armed humans had grown to 142 when Infinity’s original group ran out of weapons to give them. So they moved as a group back to the weapons shop and took every remaining mace and axe. This used up more precious minutes, but the plan required every refugee to be armed.

As they began to move on, in spite of the nervous mumbling and shuffling of feet, a nightmarish crescendo of cries could be heard from the distant bridge-in site.

Infinity paused to listen. She needed to hear every last scream to avoid becoming apathetic to this horrific event that was occurring every hour.

She had hoped they could gather all the refugees before group nineteen bridged in, but it was taking too long to find them. And they couldn’t call out to the remaining humans to locate them without drawing the attention of the orcs in the pasture. Their only chance was to stay together and keep moving quietly from dwelling to dwelling.

Just as Infinity was beginning to worry that another hour would pass before they were all together, they came upon a dwelling where twenty-three refuges were hiding, increasing the group to 213. A total of 240 had bridged in before the orcs had appeared at the perimeter fence. Infinity had witnessed twenty refugees being killed, including Lorissa. This meant seven more were either hiding in another structure or had been killed while trying to get there.

Infinity found herself engaged in the same type of cold-hearted mathematics she had criticized Zachariah for. Should she take precious time to find the last seven refugees? Would this lost time cost the lives of the next group to bridge in? And how much stronger would her pitiful army be with only seven additional people?

She gritted her teeth and cursed silently. Bridgers were supposed to take one tourist to a destination world and do whatever was necessary to bring that tourist back alive. She wasn’t trained to weigh the value of hundreds of lives, deciding who should or shouldn’t live.

“I’m assuming this is all of us,” she said to the group, trying to be as quiet as possible. “I need to see the hands of those who were in the weapons assembly shop with me.” Eleven hands went up, including Desmond’s and Zachariah’s. “You’ve got no more than ten minutes. Take aside a group of twenty and teach them what I taught you in the weapons shop. Duck low to the side and cut. Okay, do it now.”

It was a ridiculous scenario. Infinity had been learning to fight all her life. Now she was giving these refugees ten minutes to learn one basic skill before attacking creatures that could easily rip their heads off. But that was the plan. And after hours of mental anguish, it felt good to be trying something.

The terrified refugees did their best. They listened and watched, and then they tried the move. The move was the same whether they wielded an axe or a mace. Duck low to the side and cut. Duck to the left if they were right-handed, to the right if they were left-handed. When it appeared that all the refugees had tried the move about ten times, Infinity stopped the training session and gathered them into a tight bunch. As she had done with the first group, she told them all to repeat the words in their minds and visualize the move. Over and over until the moment they faced the orcs.

To Infinity’s surprise, most of them nodded, white knuckles gripping their weapons. They had to be scared shitless, but they all wanted their colony to survive.

It was time to take back the bridge-in site.

16

Survival

August 27 - 2:27 PM

Desmond gripped the handle of his axe as he and Infinity led the surviving refugees to the village perimeter. The smooth, oiled wood was wrapped tightly with a strip of leather. The leather grip was sized to fit a thirdling’s hand, but its presence was enough to give him a feeling of confidence in swinging the weapon. The blade was nothing more than a five-inch copper wedge firmly glued into a hole in the fat end of the handle, but its mass provided devastating momentum when the axe was swung at full force. He glanced at the mace in Infinity’s hand. He had used one of the maces but found the axe’s lighter weight to be more comfortable.

Desmond blinked and realized what he was doing, fixating on his weapon in order to avoid thinking of the violence that was about to occur.

Infinity stopped the group behind a dwelling at the perimeter of the village where they couldn’t be seen by the orcs in the pasture. She tipped her head to signal Desmond to follow her, and the two crept around the edge of the circular dome. They stopped when the bridge-in site came into view. The site was about a quarter mile out, but the mob of orcs was clearly visible. Most of them were sitting on the ground, as if they were simply waiting for the next refugee group to arrive.

“Try to count them,” Infinity said.

Desmond started at the left of the assembly. By the time he reached the right edge, he had counted forty-eight, although their density almost guaranteed he had missed some. “At least fifty,” he whispered.

“That’s what I got. Shit. You see that rise in the field over there?” She pointed to the right. The rise was less than a hundred yards from the orcs. “That’s where we’re going. We’ll circle to the right, and if we’re lucky, we can use that rise to surprise them.” She turned to him. “Your opinion?”

He gazed at the low bump in the terrain of the pasture. From this angle it didn’t seem tall enough. But he had no other ideas. “We’ll make it work.”

They pulled back to the humans huddled behind the dwelling and signaled them to follow. Using the other domes to shield their movements from the orcs, they made their way toward the edge of the village closest to the rise in the pasture.

As they silently skirted the back side of the last structure, they came upon a handful of thirdlings. Surprised, the thirdlings turned and raised their bows.

Desmond raised his hands and sang in his best thirdling voice, “Loo-roh-roh-roh!”

Jane, Bill, and Hickok were among the dozen or so thirdlings, and Jane came forward. Her eyes darted between Desmond, Infinity, and the more than two hundred armed humans standing behind them.

Desmond tried another phrase he had heard Jane use. “Niloka-ree-roh-roh.”

Jane sang out a series of new phrases. As she spoke, she pointed out toward the orcs. She then pointed toward the hundred or so saddled camels that had settled into a tight group at the edge of the village in the direction the humans had been moving.

Desmond held up his axe. “We’re going to kill the orcs.” He swung the axe twice like he was hitting something and then pointed to the bridge-in site. “We hope you don’t mind that we’re using your weapons.” He pointed to his axe with his free hand.

The others sang a few phrases, but Jane just gazed at him.

“We don’t have time for this,” Infinity said. “Let’s move.” She began guiding the refugees away.

“We’re going to kill them,” Desmond said to the thirdlings, and again he pointed to the orcs and swung his axe. “We hope you appreciate what we’re about to do. If any of us survive, please take them in and allow them to live here with you.” He then backed away from the thirdlings and caught up with Infinity.

“Maybe they’ll help us,” he said.

She shot him a glance. “I’ve given up trying to predict what they’ll do. They don’t think like us.”

Infinity guided them around one more domed dwelling to a spot where the herd of saddled camels stood between the humans and the orcs. She and the other humans emerged and crossed the open road that circled the perimeter of the village. They walked into the midst of the camels, which were bunched up against a pasture fence. A few of the camels snorted in alarm, but most of them simply sniffed the humans and popped their lips, creating a shower of spittle. They seemed reluctant to move, and Desmond had to actually push some out of the way.

Beyond the chest-high livestock fence was a small pasture of perhaps twenty acres. A herd of black mammals about the size of pigs was gathered in a far corner of the pasture. As long as those creatures didn’t panic and alert the orcs, and as long as the refugees could stay low, then crossing this pasture shouldn’t be a problem.

Infinity addressed the entire group. “Get over the fence fast and onto your hands and knees. Don’t cut yourself with your weapon. But if you do, don’t cry out.”

The wood-slat fence was easy to climb, and within a few minutes they were all hunkering low in the grass of the pasture. Desmond raised his head and saw the mass of orcs. The refugees would have to crawl to avoid detection. He turned and studied the humans. Most were now filthy. Sweat ran down their bodies, creating streaks in the grime. Women or men, large or small, black, brown, or white—they all wore looks of frantic determination. At that moment, Desmond had no doubt that every one of them intended to do whatever it took to save their colony. In spite of the dire situation, he felt a wave of pride for his species.

They began crawling across the field. Without clothing, this soon took a toll on his knees. But by the time they were halfway to the far fence, the terrain allowed them to get to their feet without being spotted. Fortunately, the rise Infinity had pointed out was higher than it had appeared from a distance. By the time they reached the fence, the black livestock animals had taken an interest and were slowly walking toward the group of refugees. Desmond had been right—the creatures were similar to pigs. Actually, they looked more like peccaries with unusually long snouts. They were mostly black, but each had a tan chin, and the tan color extended as a stripe up along the shoulder blade on each side. The refugees were over the fence and crouched in the road between pastures by the time the peccaries strolled over to investigate.

Following Infinity’s signals, the humans climbed another fence on the other side of the road, which put them into the much larger camel pasture. Now the only thing between the humans and the orcs was the low rise in the terrain about fifty yards away. The herd of camels was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps they had escaped the pasture earlier when the thirdlings and humans had retreated through the gate.

Infinity pressed a finger to her lips, a reminder to all to stay quiet. She waited a moment for several people to relay the gesture. In a low crouch, she headed for the rise. Without saying a word, the entire group advanced.

Soon, over two hundred humans were sprawled in the grass near the crest of the rise. Desmond lifted his head. Gazing through the tall grass stems, he saw the orcs, no more than seventy-five yards away. He even caught a whiff of their musky sweat. The creatures were still sitting in the grass, scattered about in groups of three or four. Sitting cross-legged with their heads down, they appeared to be sleeping. If so, Infinity’s plan for surprising them might actually work.

Infinity nudged Desmond with her elbow. “You ready for this?”

He wasn’t the least bit ready, but he knew he and Infinity had to inspire the refugees. This was his job now, and he wasn’t about to let his partner down. He nodded. “Ready.”

She turned to address the others, who were slightly lower on the slope. She spoke barely loud enough for all of them to hear. “Remember, duck low to the side and cut. Think it, visualize it, then do it. Kill those that are closest first. Overwhelm them with your numbers. Don’t split off—” Her eyes were suddenly drawn toward the edge of the village. “What the hell are they doing?”

Desmond followed her gaze. It was the thirdlings. Possibly the entire village. They had mounted their camels and were skirting the edge of the peccary pen. Those in the lead reached the far end of the pen and turned on a road separating the pen from the next pasture. This path was taking them directly to the road that ran beside the camel pen.

“They’re coming out here,” Desmond said. “Maybe they intend to help us.”

Infinity was squinting at the approaching thirdlings. “They’ve given their camels an upgrade.”

Desmond watched the first camels coming around the corner of the peccary pen. Some kind of harness had been added to each camel’s chest, with perhaps twenty long spikes protruding to the front and sides like a pincushion. The lead thirdlings stopped at the corner of the camel pasture, and without dismounting they opened a gate. They filed through the gate, headed directly for the humans. As they came through the gate, Desmond could now see that the spikes were made of wood and were about two feet long.

“They’re here to help us,” Desmond said. “They have to be.”

The spiked camels began lining up shoulder to shoulder. About a third of them—perhaps forty—wore the spiked harnesses. When the harnessed camels were lined up, the remaining camels and their riders gathered behind them. And then the entire formation began slowly advancing.

Desmond raised his head and looked at the orcs. They hadn’t moved, apparently still unaware of the humans and the approaching thirdlings. But within seconds, the approaching camels would be visible to the orcs over the top of the rise. Apparently the thirdlings were aware of this, because they abruptly stopped.

“What are they planning to do?” Infinity muttered.

Desmond took another peek at the orcs. “If they’re here to help us, it could change everything. Let’s wait and see.”

A sound came from beyond the rise—unmistakably human cries of confusion and surprise. Desmond’s eyes briefly met Infinity’s.

“Goddammit, it’s group twenty!” she said.

They looked over the rise. Like all the others had, the members of group twenty were floundering and retching. The orcs were on their feet and gathering around the new refugees.

“This is it!” Infinity cried. “Remember, duck to the side and cut. Now!” She jumped to her feet and ran over the top of the rise.

Desmond got up and ran after her. Behind him, over two hundred humans screamed with fury and fear as they charged over the hill.

The surprised orcs turned away from the refuges they had intended to kill and faced the onslaught. For a few long seconds, they stared as if they had no idea what to do.

And then Infinity closed in on the nearest one. Desmond saw her feint to the right but then dart around the orc to the left. Her mace struck the orc’s abdomen, and the toothed blades tore a gash so large that intestines spilled out before the orc could cover it with its hands. Infinity went straight for the next orc without looking back.

Desmond pulled his eyes from her to focus on his own attack. He closed the last few yards to one of the orcs and tried reproducing Infinity’s move. He feinted to the right, darted to the left, and swung at the creatures gut, making a solid hit. But the orc grabbed his arm and yanked him off his feet. His axe flew from his hand as he was slammed onto his back. The orc dropped to its knees and went straight for Desmond’s throat, its mouth gaping. A refugee’s axe then cut the creature’s forehead wide open.

The screaming human horde slammed into the orcs like a tsunami, axes and maces swinging wildly. Bodies piled over each other, driving the front line of orcs to the ground under the weight. Desmond was buried beneath the mass. The dead orc’s head pressed into his chest from the weight. Blood and something much thicker oozed out and onto his neck.

For what seemed like a long time, he could see nothing but struggling legs, arms, and other body parts, punctuated by slivers of sunlight. Screams and grunts were all he heard. But the weight gradually let up as refugees scrambled off the pile. Finally, he shoved the orc’s body to the side and sat up.

Before him was the most horrifying sight he’d ever seen. Two hundred naked refugees were fighting for their lives, tearing into the orcs with primitive weapons like savages. At least ten orcs already lay dead on the ground, but beside and on top of them were mangled human bodies. A large shape appeared from the left, an orc leaping into the air. It came down on top of a mass of refugees who were swinging their weapons at a fallen orc, knocking them all to the ground, and began showering them with devastating blows with its fists.

Desmond looked around and found his axe a few feet away. He grabbed it and got to his feet. He circled behind the orc that was pummeling the refugees, darted in, and swung the axe at the thing’s back, aiming for the prominent ridge of bulging vertebrae. With an audible chunk, the axe cut through the orc’s spine. The creature collapsed, its legs convulsing wildly, and emitted an ear-splitting howl. As Desmond was pulling his axe free, one of the men the orc had attacked got to his knees and began chopping at the creature’s neck, cutting into it again and again as if he wanted to sever the head.

Desmond turned around. Beyond the struggling, screaming throng of bodies, the twenty newly arrived refugees stared in horror at the chaos. And near the new refugees, at least half the orcs were still standing there harmlessly, gazing at the battle as if contemplating the risks of joining the fight versus fleeing.

“Desmond, look out!” It was Infinity’s voice, but before he could turn to find where she was, an orc hit him from the side. He collapsed under the weight and then immediately felt a burning pain in the side of his neck. The creature grunted and pulled its head back, trying to pull the flesh from Desmond’s neck with its teeth. Desmond thrashed at it with his axe, but lying on his back made it impossible to inflict much damage. The orc’s teeth sank even deeper, tearing through muscle, searching for an artery or his windpipe.

A shape appeared above him, and Desmond realized it was another orc. The creature stared down at him for a split second and then drew back and swung its fist, striking Desmond’s temple. It drew back to throw another punch, but then something swept in from the side and hit its face. The object was a bladed mace. Infinity yanked the mace back, and the serrated blades tore most of the skin from the orc’s face. She struck again, splitting open its forehead, and the creature collapsed onto the orc that was on top of Desmond. Apparently thinking it was being attacked from above, the orc released Desmond’s neck. But before it could even turn its head, Infinity’s mace came down on the back of its neck. The impact drove its head down against Desmond’s face. In rapid succession, Infinity struck three more times. Each blow shoved the orc’s massive face against Desmond’s, foul air and spittle erupting from its mouth.

Infinity kicked the top orc off. She then grabbed the hair of the bottom orc and pulled. “Damn, these things are heavy!”

Desmond assisted by shoving the orc. Still dazed from the blow to his temple, he sat up and put a hand to his neck. He felt mangled flesh.

Infinity leaned in and pulled his hand away to see it. “Minimal bleeding. You’ll live.” She then turned and rushed to help four refugees who had managed to knock a thrashing orc to the ground.

Desmond looked around and realized every orc that was engaged in the battle was facing multiple humans. And those orcs that had not joined the fight—at least twenty—were now retreating, backing away toward the tall perimeter fence. His attention was drawn to movement from the side. The mounted thirdlings had advanced around the fighting orcs and humans and were now charging full speed at the group of retreating orcs. The camels with spikes harnessed to their chests were in the lead, and suddenly the true purpose of the harnesses became clear.

The camels overtook the orcs, plowing into them and skewering them on the spikes. Several orcs immediately succumbed and went to ground. The camels came to a stop and dropped to their knees, driving their chest spikes into the fallen orcs. The camels then stood up, shaking themselves free from the impaled orc bodies, and took off after the remaining orcs. The camels without spikes advanced from behind, and their thirdlings shot arrows into the fallen orcs that were still moving.

Desmond took a moment to help several refugees deliver the last blows needed to kill an unusually large female orc. And then he ran to the group of new refugees. A few of them had finally run out to join the fight, but most were still too confused or frightened to move.

“We need your help!” He cried. “You’ll understand later. Grab a weapon from a fallen human and fight. Kill every one of the larger creatures. If you want to survive, do it now!” He grabbed a man and a woman by their elbows and pulled them to their feet. He thrust his blood-soaked axe into the woman’s hand. “Take this and fight for your colony.” He faced the others. “Go!”

Without staying to make sure they complied, he ran to the nearest dead human—a woman—and picked up her axe. At this point, only five or six of the orcs were still on their feet, and every one of those was surrounded by humans ruthlessly slashing at it with axes and maces.

Desmond joined one of the groups. He immediately felt a twinge of pity for the human-like creature before him. The orc—another female—was still on its feet but wouldn’t be for long. Strips of hacked flesh dangled from its arms and body, and each time it swung around to try to deflect a blow, it showered the humans with blood.

Desmond pulled back and let the others finish that one off. He had to remind himself that these orcs had slaughtered seven groups of defenseless refugees, not to mention all those killed during this battle.

He stepped over to a man who was sitting cross-legged beside a pile of bodies, both human and orc. The man was staring down at a nasty bite on his forearm, his mace hanging loosely from his hand.

Desmond kneeled beside him. “Are you okay, sir?”

The man turned to him, his face smeared with dirt and blood, and then Desmond realized it was Zachariah.

“Is it worth this?” Zachariah asked. “Is it even worth it?”

Desmond put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. His skin felt cold to the touch in spite of the afternoon August heat. “I think that’s a question we can’t afford to ask anymore. It’s survival. Everything we do from here on is just survival.”

Zachariah shook his head and turned away.

Desmond stood up. There were now only two orcs still on their feet. But as he watched, they both collapsed under a barrage of merciless hacking blows. He spotted Infinity. She was walking among the dead and wounded. She paused for a moment, looking down, and then swung her mace twice at a figure Desmond couldn’t quite see among the tangled bodies. He hoped it was an orc, although it certainly could have been a refugee she had decided was beyond help.

Orc howls drew his attention to the perimeter fence. Mounted thirdlings were now lined up along the fence to prevent the orcs that had retreated from escaping through the holes. Several orcs were attempting to climb over, but even at this distance Desmond could see numerous arrows protruding from their backs and legs. As he watched, one of them fell. A spiked camel approached it and dropped to its knees, finishing the orc off.

The last eight of the retreating orcs broke away from the thirdlings and ran. Spiked camels caught up to them and formed a semi-circle behind them. The thirdlings angled their camels to one side, forcing the orcs to turn.

Desmond then realized the thirdlings were herding the eight orcs directly toward him and the other humans.

17

Rally

August 27 - 3:32 PM

Infinity saw the orcs coming. The thirdlings were driving them directly toward the refugees. Why in the hell were they doing that? She was about to shout out to all the survivors when a blood-soaked man next to Desmond got up from the ground and spoke up.

“Refugees, listen to me!”

Infinity realized it was Zachariah.

“We have one last chance to show the thirdlings who’s side we’re on,” Zachariah shouted. “If our colony is to survive, we need their help. Let’s show them what we’re made of!”

Zachariah bent down and picked up a second mace. He then ran straight for the approaching orcs. Desmond followed him, along with most of the surviving refugees, yelling like animals.

“That’s what I like to see,” Infinity muttered as she took off after them.

When they reached the first orc, Zachariah ducked low to the left and Desmond ducked to the right. Infinity couldn’t see what they were doing through the refugees running in front of her, but she did see the orc grimace in pain and go down. And then humans piled on top of it, their arms flailing as they hacked it to death.

The remaining seven orcs were cornered animals, and they flew into the refugees with a fierceness that surprised even Infinity. She skirted around the pile of humans chopping at the first orc and then paused. The scene was so chaotic that she couldn’t launch into a full attack on any one orc without hurting some of the refugees. On the left, Desmond and several women faced a snarling orc. That was as good a place to start as any. She ran up and pushed in beside Desmond.

“I’ll go for its feet, then push the bastard back!” She dove forward and managed to strike one of its ankles with her mace and wrap an arm around its other leg. “Now!”

Desmond and the others rushed in swinging. The orc grabbed one of the women’s arms, and then it fell back, pulling her down with it. The woman screamed as the orc bit her arm and then pulled her closer to go for her head.

Infinity saw a large shape approaching—one of the spiked camels that had herded the orcs. “Pull her back! Pull her back!” She rolled to her knees to grab the woman’s feet, but Desmond already had one of her ankles. He grunted and pulled.

The approaching camel dropped to its knees, driving a half dozen spikes through the orc’s head and chest just as Desmond pulled the woman free from the orc’s grip. The spikes missed her head by inches.

There was no time to check on the woman. Infinity jumped up and saw an orc actually throw a man’s body. The body hit another man and spun toward Infinity. She dropped down just as it flew over. The body bounced off the impaled orc as the camel was getting back to its feet, knocking the camel off balance. The camel staggered to the side, throwing the thirdling to the ground, and then stumbled and collapsed on top of the thirdling with the orc’s body still skewered to its chest.

Infinity got to her feet again in time to see an orc pushed back until another camel dropped and pinned it to the ground. And a fourth orc had fallen beneath the chopping blows of an overwhelming mass of refugees.

That left four more orcs fighting for their lives.

Two of them were side-by-side, holding off a row of humans trying to press them back. Abruptly, both orcs dove to the ground and rolled under the waiting spikes before the camels could drop to their knees. The orcs got to their feet between two camels and pulled both the riders from their saddles. They threw the thirdlings at the refugees and then turned and ran. Infinity couldn’t see where they went through the row of camels, but she glimpsed mounted thirdlings drawing their bows back and shooting.

The last two orcs screamed, and in a desperate move, one of them leapt into the air and came down on top of the mass of human attackers. Several of the humans went down under its weight. In spite of the blows raining down on it, the creature got to its feet and charged through the bodies, trampling over some and pushing others aside. It was headed straight for Infinity.

“Come on!” she shouted, holding her mace ready. But at the last minute, she simply dropped to her hands and knees. The orc tripped over her and went down. Immediately, humans swarmed over it, swinging their weapons. This time, it didn’t get up.

Infinity got to her feet yet again. But now the fight was pretty much over. The last orc was hopelessly outnumbered, and it turned to flee. It tried going under the camels’ spikes like its companions had, but it was too slow. One of the camels dropped to its knees, pinning it to the ground. Refugees rushed forward to finish it off.

Seconds later, the battle was over. Refugees lay dead or injured on the ground. Those still on their feet glanced around with wild eyes, like they couldn’t believe there were no more orcs.

Infinity put her hands on her knees, panting to catch her breath. A few yards away, Desmond sat on his butt, staring at her.

“You okay?” she asked.

He was panting as well, and he just nodded without speaking.

Infinity spotted Zachariah among the refugees. Her eyes met his. “Glad to see you’re in one piece, tourist.”

He nodded. “And you as well, bridger.”

“Loo-roh-roh-roh!”

Infinity looked up. It was the female thirdling, Jane. The thirdling loosened a strap between her legs, and the spiked harness, along with two leather straps encircling the camel’s front legs, dropped to the ground. She twisted to the side and her camel stepped backwards, pulling its feet from the two loops, and then kneeled. The thirdling lifted one leg over the camel’s neck and dropped to the ground.

She came forward, stepping over and around bodies, until she was face to face with Desmond, who was still sitting on his butt.

She spoke to him, her strange words spilling forth like music. Desmond repeated the words back to her, although his voice sounded little like a thirdling’s.

She smiled, and Desmond smiled back. She spoke again and pointed toward her village. Infinity hoped she was inviting the survivors, because without at least some rudimentary first aid, most of the injured would become infected and die.

The relative silence was abruptly shattered by cries of confusion and fear. Startled, the thirdlings’ camels skittered to the side, clearing Infinity’s view of the bridge-in site. Twenty fresh refugees—group twenty-one—floundered awkwardly, falling over each other and over several orc corpses .

Infinity pushed past the nervous camels and approached the new group. Only one of them remained on his feet, a fit man in his forties, perhaps military, or a fighter. The man gazed around at the human and orc bodies strewn everywhere.

As Infinity approached, he turned to her. “What the bloody hell have we bridged into?”

18

Rituals

August 27 - 8:01 PM - Group 25

Desmond was staring directly at the bridge-in site when group twenty-five arrived. Like the previous groups, the new arrivals resembled a nude mob wrestling match for at least a minute before getting their bearings. Zachariah stood to the side waiting for them, and he immediately launched into his orientation speech. The speech now began with explaining why there were 205 human corpses heaped into a pile a short distance from the bridge-in site. Fortunately, this was the last group for which the corpses would be the first horrifying thing they’d see upon arriving. The sun had set a few minutes ago, and it would be dark when group twenty-six arrived. And by the time the last group bridged in at 7:00 AM, the bodies would be buried. At least that was the plan.

“It might become easy for you to conclude that bridging our colony here was a mistake,” Zachariah said after finishing his initial explanations. “But there is no turning back for us. There are no do-overs. You need to know that over two hundred of your fellow colonists gave their lives so that you would have a chance. I know that’s no easy pill to swallow, but you need to swallow it nevertheless. If our colony survives, those men and women will become the founding heroes of a new human civilization. As will all of you.

“I’m going to tell you what I know and believe.” He pointed to about a dozen thirdlings mounted on camels who were apparently there to monitor the situation and perhaps to watch for more orcs. “These are the hominids we call thirdlings. This is their livestock pasture we are occupying at this moment. That’s their village you see in the distance. Take a good look at them. They’re not human, but they’ve shown us human-like compassion. Frankly, and for reasons we’ll explain later, our colony will not exist without their help. I believe they are not likely to continue helping us unless we can be useful to them. I know many of you have skills that might eventually be useful to the thirdlings. But right now, we think there is one thing they expect us to do for them, and that is to provide protection from those we believe are their enemy.” He pointed to the pile of fifty-five orc corpses the camels had dragged to the perimeter fence. “We call them orcs. And it seems our presence here has magnified their aggression. So defending the thirdlings from the orcs may not only be an opportunity for us to fit in, it may be our moral obligation.”

“You want us to become bodyguards for another hominid species?” It was a thin woman who was probably close to the upper age limit of sixty.

“It’s a job,” Zachariah replied. “Regardless of what job you had back home, here you need to be ready to accept any job offered to you.”

A lean man stepped forward to stand beside Zachariah. “And that’s where I come in.” The guy’s name was Zeke. He’d bridged in with group twenty-one, just after the last orcs were killed. The guy had a background in hand-to-hand combat training, and during the last four hours he had convinced Desmond, Infinity, and Zachariah that he was going to be valuable to the colony.

“I wasn’t here to help kill the orcs,” Zeke said, “but I’m pretty sure there are more where those came from.” He tilted his head toward the perimeter fence. “And I’ve got the expertise to train all of you to be badass orc killers. To be honest, I don’t give a damn if the job seems distasteful to you. We don’t have the luxury of choosing jobs we want. That might come later, perhaps for our children or our grandchildren. But for now, we do what needs to be done.” He gazed around at the group before him. “We’re going to be so good at protecting the thirdlings that they’ll be inclined to provide medical assistance to our wounded, shelters for us to live in, and anything else we need. Notice I said need, not want.” Again, he took several seconds to gaze from one edge of the group to the other. “One last thing. You do anything disrespectful or threatening to the thirdlings, you’ll answer to me. You might find yourself banished to the other side of that perimeter fence, and that’s not somewhere you want to be.”

Infinity plopped onto the ground next to Desmond. Glistening with sweat, she grabbed one of the copper jugs of water the thirdlings had brought out to the pasture and took a long drink. She turned to him. “Let me see that.” She tilted his head with her free hand to get a better look at the bite wound on his neck, although there wasn’t much to see, as the thirdlings had smeared some kind of greenish salve all over it.

“Still hurts a little,” he said.

She shook her head. “Seems hardly enough to exempt you from digging. I swear to God, there’s more rock here than soil.”

Desmond snorted a laugh. “Sorry you didn’t get injured. You’re too skilled for your own good.”

The thirdlings had sought out every human who was injured—thirty-one in total, minus three that had died in the last few hours—and had moved them to a location near the bridge-in site. Then they had brought out various medical supplies from their village and treated the wounds, even setting a number of broken bones using wooden splints obviously designed for smaller limbs. The medical supplies were primitive by human standards but were far better than nothing and would almost certainly save lives.

The thirdlings had also brought a load of digging tools similar to pickaxes and had put those without injuries to work digging a trench for the human bodies. Surprisingly, none of the refugees had protested this impersonal and dispassionate means of disposing of their fellow colonists. They were beginning to understand that life would never again resemble what they had known before.

For several minutes, Desmond and Infinity sat side-by-side watching the orange sunset fade to deep red.

Finally, she got up. “Break’s over. The sooner we get those bodies out of sight, the sooner these people can start putting this day behind them.” As she walked away, she spoke over her shoulder. “Enjoy sitting on your ass, bridger.”

* * *

August 28 - 6:45 AM - Group 36

A hand shook Desmond’s shoulder. “Hey, you may want to check this out.”

He opened his eyes. The sun was just coming up through the trees on the hill to the east. It was essentially the same hill where he and Infinity had taken Zachariah and Lorissa on their first training hike without clothing. But that version of the hill was on a different world, and now it seemed so long ago.

He sat up. It appeared that everyone else was already up. There were now nearly five hundred refugees, and they were gathered around the bridge-in site. “It’s almost seven already?”

“You slept at least a half hour that time,” she said. “More than I did.”

He rubbed his eyes and then gently probed the bite wound on his neck. It was still tender, but less so than several hours ago. The thirdlings’ salve was impressive stuff. He looked again at the gathered refugees. “The last group is going to have quite a greeting party.”

Infinity got to her feet and stretched. Then she froze. “Desmond.”

Her tone instantly alerted him. He got up.

She pointed. “What’s going on over there?”

Desmond looked toward the perimeter fence. The pasture was still somewhat dark, but he could clearly see camels lined up in a half circle facing the spot where the thirdlings had dragged the orc bodies.

Without another word, Infinity took off, skirting around the refugees and running for the fence. Desmond followed, visualizing what might happen if more orcs were intending to attack. The refugees still had two hundred weapons from yesterday, but there were now three hundred without weapons.

He caught up to Infinity as they neared the mounted thirdlings. Without hesitating, she pushed her way between two camels and then stopped. Desmond moved in behind her, looking over her shoulder.

Three orcs were actually on the pasture side of the fence. But they weren’t attacking. Instead, they were dragging the dead orcs one at a time through the hole in the fence. At least half of the bodies had already been dragged through, and on the far side of the fence, dozens of orcs were watching and waiting. When the next corpse was dragged through, one of the waiting orcs ducked through the hole and grabbed another, dragging it out by its arms.

The thirdlings sat on camels rigged with spiked harnesses, silently watching the process. To the side of the dwindling pile of orc bodies was a stack of new fence slats, presumably to repair the hole.

One of the orcs coming through the hole looked up and saw Desmond and Infinity. It sniffed the air. A low growl swelled from deep in its throat. The orcs on the far side of the fence heard the growl and pushed their faces against the slats, looking through the gaps. They began growling, too, and several of them slammed their fists against the wood.

“Back up,” Infinity said. “We’re not welcome here.”

They pulled back. The camels moved together, closing the gap. Seconds later, the growling stopped. Presumably, the orcs had gone back to their task.

“The only explanation I can think of,” Desmond said as they walked back to the bridge-in site, “is that the orcs perform some kind of ritual with their dead, and perhaps the thirdlings respect that ritual.”

“Or the orcs eat their dead,” she said.

He glanced at her. “Which I suppose could be considered a ritual. I wouldn’t have guessed the orcs were intelligent enough for such rituals, though. As far as I can tell, they don’t even use weapons. Although they obviously manage to make rudimentary clothing.”

“Maybe the thirdlings give them those shorts. They gave us shorts.”

Again he glanced at her. “Sometimes I marvel at how your mind works. I wouldn’t have even thought of that. That would imply that the relationship between the thirdlings and orcs is far more complex than I even imagined.”

“They’re not human, and they’re from a different timeline. Don’t expect to understand.”

Confused cries could be heard ahead, a sure indication that group thirty-six had arrived. Seconds later, the five hundred refugees gathered around the bridge-in site erupted into cheers.

“That’s the last of them,” Infinity said. “One more hour and we’re out of here.”

He gazed over at the completed grave site, now just a mound of dirt and rocks fifteen yards across. Two hundred and five refugees were buried beneath it. Those people had come here for the opportunity to escape certain death.

“Well, at least we know the bridging device is still working,” he said. “The SafeTrek building must still be standing.”

* * *

7:43 AM - Bridge-back

Getting more than five hundred frightened people to sit together and listen was proving to be difficult, so Desmond and Infinity settled on talking to a core group of those who were calm enough to pay attention: Zachariah, Zeke, and a handful of hardcore survival experts who had shown impressive initiative during the past thirty-six hours.

“We’ll never be able to repay what you’ve done for us,” Zachariah said, “but I’m pretty sure we’ll never forget. Perhaps someday buildings and streets will bear your names.”

Desmond smiled as he pictured this. What might future human cities look like on this world if these people managed to endure long enough to build them? “There’s no way to know what will come tomorrow,” he said, “but if you can coexist with the thirdlings, you’ve got a fighting chance.”

Infinity turned to Zeke and the others. “Zachariah has proven to be a natural-born leader. He’s smart, and he’s likable. I don’t have any authority to tell you what to do after we’ve bridged back, but think about that. There will probably be others who want to lead your colony. But if Zachariah has a good-sized group of the strongest refugees supporting him—like all of you—the rest of the colony will support him, too.”

Zachariah shook his head. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, Infinity. But there’s a good chance we’ll have to split up into relatively small groups in order to live among the thirdlings. Having one leader may not mesh with that arrangement.”

“Our goal at this time is to train these people to fight,” Zeke said. “When we’re done with them, they’ll be in high demand.” He glanced around at the surrounding pasture and beyond. “Based on the layout and size of this village and its land, and assuming the other villages are similar, I’m guessing a pretty convenient partnership is possible. About a hundred humans per village, living together with the thirdlings and providing the protection they need, as well as technological expertise, medical expertise, and whatnot. We’ll be sure each group has a diversity of skills.”

Again, Desmond smiled. Apparently Zeke was a visionary as well as a combat trainer.

Zachariah looked over Desmond’s shoulder and squinted at something. “Heavens to Betsy, would you look at that.”

Desmond turned. Five wagons hitched to camels were coming their way. Walking beside one of the wagons were seven humans, all of them wearing bright green shorts.

“I’ll be damned,” Infinity muttered. “Those are the refugees I assumed were dead.”

They walked out to meet the refugees and the wagons.

“We’re glad to see you survived,” Zachariah said to them. “We tried finding you but ran out of time. I imagine you’ll consider yourselves lucky when we explain what you’ve missed.” He then led them away toward the main mass of people.

The doors on the armored wagons opened, and thirdlings swarmed out carrying steaming copper pots. The smell of cooked meat hit Desmond’s nostrils, making him realize how hungry he was. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have time to eat.

Jane, Bill, and Hickok came forward and stopped before Desmond and the dozen or so humans gathered around him. Jane’s eyes drifted through the large colony of refugees. Although thirdlings and humans shared few facial expressions, Desmond was almost certain he could see bewilderment in her eyes. As in, What the hell are we going to do with all these naked, brutish creatures?

Desmond stepped forward. “Jane, did you bring your book and your pen?” He made motions of writing on a page. “I’d like to try to explain to you how humans can help you and your friends in the other villages.”

She watched his fingers moving and then looked into his eyes. But then she was gone, along with everything else.

19

Passerina

August 28 - 8:01 AM

Infinity landed on her feet, quelled her urge to retch, and then paced back and forth, waiting for Desmond to get past the worst of his nausea.

“Welcome back,” Armando said over the comm. “I can’t begin to express my relief at seeing that you both appear to be well.”

“We’re okay,” she said. “We’ll need antibiotics, especially Desmond. He’s got a wicked bite on his neck.”

Several techs came in through the airlock. Responding to Infinity’s words, they went straight to Desmond, asked him a few questions, and led him out.

“What news of the colony?” Armando asked.

She shook her head. “Not good. We lost over two hundred before we got things under control.”

“Jesus! What happened?”

“Exactly what I said might happen thirty-six hours ago! But Eagleton insisted we bridge the colony anyway. Where is that bastard?”

“He’s meeting with Viper and Falcon as we speak. You’re not going to like what he’s telling them, Infinity.”

“What?”

“In fifty-six minutes, we’re sending out another bio-probe. The bio-probe will return at 9:00 PM tomorrow night. If it comes back positive, we’re sending Viper and Falcon at 10:00 PM, along with the first group of refugees.”

She stared at him through the plexiglass. “Refugees? What about the assessment excursion?”

“To save time, we’re eliminating the assessment excursion. From here on out, after any successful bio-probe, we’re sending a colony. All 718 refugees.”

For several seconds, Infinity couldn’t even come up with anything to say. “That’s… goddamn insane!”

He shook his head. “Conditions are getting worse by the day. It’s not as insane as you think.”

Two techs came back into the chamber and began leading her to the med lab.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” Armando said.

She turned and waited.

“Trencher and Wraith are sick—something they picked up on their last excursion. Our med techs still don’t have a handle on it. So after Viper and Falcon complete their mission, you and Desmond are up again. And as I’m sure you’ve surmised, you will not be allowed an assessment excursion.”

* * *

August 28 - 7:43 PM

Lenny strode the length of his bunk room and back without his crutches. “Are you impressed? Two more weeks, Des! Maybe only one with good behavior. Two more weeks and Xavier and I can join a colony. Infinity, I don’t know where you guys got your med techs, but they are zip-banging awesome!”

“I can’t argue with that,” she replied. “They’ve saved my ass a few times.” She decided not to tell Lenny and Xavier that she was beginning to doubt the SafeTrek building would survive another two weeks.

Desmond said, “Okay, then I’d like to propose a plan. At some point, when the end is near, Infinity and I will permanently bridge out with the last colony. If you two haven’t already bridged out with an earlier colony, you’re coming with us.”

“Cool,” Xavier said.

Lenny raised the white flask he’d been carrying. “That, my brother, is a wicked-crisp idea.” He took a drink and passed the flask to Infinity.

She shook her head, so Lenny extended it to Desmond. Desmond took the flask, but then he glanced at her.

Curious to see how he’d respond, she gave him a disapproving frown. He hesitated and then passed the flask to Xavier.

Xavier accepted it, but he was eyeing them both. “Geez, you two. You’ve progressed to nonverbal communication. What’s up with that?” He then took a long drink.

“What that means,” Lenny said, “is that Desmond got the girl. You and I never had a chance, Xavier.” He snatched the flask from Xavier and then turned to Infinity. “Since it’s the end of the world and all, have you two—you know—hooked up yet?” He made a stupid fist-pumping gesture with his hand.

Infinity leveled her gaze at him. “You’re stepping over the line, tourist.”

He immediately wrinkled his brows and shook his head. “Sorry. I’ve had a few snorts of this.” He raised the flask slightly. “Sometimes my mouth speaks before my brain has even hit the snooze button, as they say.”

“No one says that,” Xavier muttered.

Infinity gazed at Lenny without cracking a smile, although it wasn’t easy. But she couldn’t help wondering if ‘hooking up’ with Desmond would ever be possible. Probably not before they were all killed.

Lenny said, “When Xavier and I heard you guys made it back alive, we decided to celebrate. God knows, there sure isn’t anything else to celebrate these days.”

“Unless you wanted to have an end-of-the-world party,” Xavier added.

“You two are going stir-crazy,” Desmond said. “But enjoy it while you can. If you end up bridging out with me and Infinity… well, our track record isn’t too good. You may wish you were back here waiting for the Earth to implode.”

Lenny raised the flask. “I’d follow you anywhere, Des. Even if it means going to hell.”

* * *

August 31 - 9:52 AM

Infinity entered the chamber viewing room and stopped between Desmond and Armando.

“Where is he?” she asked.

They both knew she was talking about Reece Eagleton. The son of a bitch had been avoiding her since she and Desmond had bridged back.

“You might as well stop asking,” Armando replied. “He has no desire to engage in an argument with you. For that very reason, he’s not here. But there are two people here I’d like you to meet.” He turned around and gestured to a man and woman Infinity had hardly noticed when she had come in. “Andrea Van Loon and Gavin Pushing,” Armando said. “They were originally selected as representatives of their colony for the assessment excursion. But that was before assessment excursions were nixed. Now they’re simply, well, representatives of their colony.”

The woman, Andrea, extended her hand. “We’re pleased that you’ll be assisting our colony, Infinity. We’ve heard so much about you.”

Infinity shook her hand, assessing her grip and studying her eyes. “Then you’re aware of the questionable success of the colony Desmond and I recently bridged. What’s your opinion of that?”

She paused for a moment but didn’t seem to lose confidence. “My opinion is that the colony should have selected a destination with a recent divergence point. If the world had been more similar to ours and occupied by humans, they would all probably be alive.”

The man extended his hand. “That’s why our colony, from the beginning, has desired to bridge to a world that has only recently diverged from our own. One hundred and fifty years, to be precise, due to our desire to avoid encountering ourselves or our parents.”

Infinity shook his hand. “Sounds reasonable.”

Gavin slapped his somewhat flabby gut and shook it. “As you can probably tell, Andrea and I weren’t selected as colony reps based on our fighting or wilderness survival skills.” He glanced at the woman. “No offense, Andrea.” He turned back to Infinity. “Those skills will not be needed where we’re going. I happen to be a defense attorney, but I am best known as a motivational speaker.”

“And I am a human rights advocate,” Andrea added. “And also an attorney.”

Gavin nodded. “Our primary role will be to convince the authorities of our new world that it is their moral responsibility, as well as their civic duty, to provide our colony asylum.”

Infinity nodded slowly, still studying their faces. “But I assume your colony includes at least some experts in combat and wilderness survival? You know… just in case.”

Andrea flashed a polished but annoying smile. “Our colony began with a core group of like-minded politicians and civic leaders, who then hand-picked the remaining members to meet the necessary requirement of 718 talented people. We have no intention of fighting for survival or living off the land.”

Infinity glanced at Desmond. “Because what could possibly go wrong.”

“Excuse me?” Andrea said, slight annoyance in her voice.

Armando cleared his throat. “Infinity.”

“Never mind,” Infinity said to the two attorneys. “Desmond and I will do our best to help you bridge safely to your world.”

Celia Pickett’s voice came through the comm. “Viper and Falcon will bridge back in one minute.” Although Celia was Armando’s assistant, she was now pretty much running things about half the time. A necessity, as the bridging device was being activated every hour on the hour and would continue to do so until the end.

Infinity turned away from the motivational speaker and the human rights advocate to peer through the plexiglass window. She tried unsuccessfully to suppress her apprehension. Only thirty-six hours ago, following a successful bio-probe, Viper and Falcon had bridged out with eighteen refugees. They hadn’t been allowed an assessment excursion. And then thirty-five more refugee groups had been dumped onto that world. With no real knowledge of what they were bridging into. To a world with a 500,000-year divergence point.

“Ten seconds,” Celia announced.

Infinity pressed her hands to the window and whispered, “Please be okay, brothers.”

The plexiglass bulged out slightly. Two figures appeared and dropped to the padded floor.

Infinity stared at them. “They’re not moving. Get the goddamn med techs in there!”

The airlock opened and four techs in white biosuits rushed in, two of them kneeling beside each bridger. Viper and Falcon appeared to be without serious injuries, but their skin color wasn’t right. And as Infinity stared, she realized their bodies displayed rigor mortis.

“Jesus, they’re dead,” Desmond said.

Infinity slammed her hands against the plexiglass and then paced back and forth in the small viewing room. She had worked with Viper for three years and Falcon for over two. They were good bridgers. They were like family to Infinity. Trencher and Wraith were still sick, quarantined in an airlocked chamber adjacent to the med lab. According to rumors, they were afflicted with horrific lesions and fever, which meant it was likely the 718 refugees they had assisted were suffering the same fate.

So Infinity and Desmond were now the only two experienced bridgers at SafeTrek.

“Both bridgers are deceased,” one of the med techs announced through the comm. “Cause of death will have to be determined by autopsy. But we’re guessing the time of death to be approximately thirty-six hours.”

Infinity swung around to face Armando. “They died as soon as they bridged in! And then you sent an entire colony to that world. If you’d done a damn assessment excursion, you would have known not to send the colony.”

Armando raised his hands, palms up. “The bio-probe animals came back alive, Infinity. Logically, Viper and Falcon should have bridged into a safe world. Besides, you know my hands are tied on this. It comes from President Millwright.”

She allowed a growl to escape from deep within her. “Yes, but how much have you fought against it?”

He actually looked hurt. “You don’t think I’ve resisted?”

She just shook her head without answering.

“Infinity, on some level you have to see that they’re right. We’re running out of time.”

She turned away from him and pressed her forehead against the window. The techs were already wheeling the bodies of her brothers to the med lab. Silently, the two colony reps left the room. Armando put a hand on Infinity’s shoulder for a moment and then stepped out. Desmond moved to her side until their shoulders were touching. The contact felt good.

They stared into the bridging chamber as the minutes passed. Techs entered the chamber and disinfected the floor. Voices spoke over the comms, providing updates on recharging the bridging device’s power center and counting down to its next activation. Forty minutes. Thirty-five. Thirty.

Twelve animals were brought into the chamber in pairs: sheep, rabbits, domestic cats, guinea pigs, rats, and mice.

Several techs stayed in the chamber until the last minute, holding the larger animals in place and keeping them calm. At sixty seconds, they let the smaller animals out of their wire cages, carried the cages out of the chamber, and sealed the hatch. The creatures stood in place, sniffing the disinfectant still drying on the floor.

Celia counted down the last ten seconds, and then the animals were gone.

Still, Infinity and Desmond stared into the chamber. He moved slightly, causing the skin of his arm to glide over hers. She turned to gaze at him. They had thirty-six hours before the bio-probe returned. After that, all bets were off. The nightmare would start all over again.

He turned to face her. His eyes drifted down to her chest. He reached out and traced the outline of her painted bunting tattoo with the tip of his finger. “This is getting faded again. Are you going to have it re-inked one more time?”

She shook her head slightly. “No point now.”

“Passerina,” he said. “Is it okay if I call you that?”

Passerina was the scientific name of the bunting. It also happened to be Infinity’s real name.

“Yes,” she said, surprising herself. “But if you do it in front of others, you’re a dead man.”

The corners of his mouth barely turned upward. “I’m glad I’m your partner, Passerina.”

She took his hand and led him toward the door. It was time to do a few things she had been putting off for too long.

Did you enjoy this book? You can make a big difference.

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Author’s Notes for Bridgers 2

This story is based on the idea that non-human hominids proliferated and spread throughout the world, establishing complex societies. This is not as far-fetched as you might think. Let’s imagine you could see the results of an evolutionary do-over of the last 210,000 years (which is exactly what Desmond and Infinity see in this story). The species, Homo sapiens (that’s us), first appeared in Africa about 200,000 years ago. At that time, there were other hominid (human-like) species, including Homo neanderthalensis (Neanderthals), Homo Erectus, and Homo heidelbergensis. And possibly others.

There was no guarantee that Homo sapiens would survive. In fact, at one point about 80,000 years ago, Homo sapiens almost went extinct. It was during a severe drought (as indicated by fossilized mud cracks in an old African lake bed). The climate in Africa was highly variable at that time, and there were many factors that could have resulted in the demise of Homo sapiens. And so it’s quite reasonable to imagine that Homo sapiens could have gone extinct, or that some random event could have prevented their origin in the first place.

If Homo sapiens hadn’t survived, it seems very possible that one of the other hominid species could have developed a similar level of intelligence. This is exactly what happened with Neanderthals, although they eventually went extinct. Perhaps it could have even been Homo floresiensis, the 3-foot “hobbits” that lived on an island in Indonesia about 190,000 to 50,000 years ago.

Okay, what about the rather mind-bending concept of the possible existence of infinite parallel universes?

While there are certainly cosmologists who are skeptical of the concept, it is important to point out that multiple parallel universes is not a theory. Scientists did not simply come up with the idea using their imaginations. Instead, the concept is a mathematical consequence of our current theories in physics, particularly quantum mechanics and string theory.

If we assume that quantum mechanics and string theory are not completely wrong, then it is important for scientists to examine all of the mathematical consequences of those theories. Even if those consequences (such as parallel universes) seem strange to us. This is often how science moves forward.

There are at least five plausible scientific theories that suggest the existence of multiple universes (the “multiverse”). My favorite of these is the concept of “daughter universes” suggested by the theory of quantum mechanics. Quantum mechanics describes things in terms of probabilities, rather than definite outcomes. The mathematics of quantum mechanics suggest that every possible outcome of every situation actually occurs—in its own separate universe.

Everything is made up of tiny particles, and what this “daughter universes” concept boils down to is that there could be infinite parallel universes, each of them differing by the position of only one particle.

The concept boggles the mind. But it certainly makes for a fun story.

Acknowledgments

I have the following people, among others, to thank for their assistance with Bridgers 2: The Cost of Survival.

I had editing assistance from Josiah Davis (JD Book Services). Josiah provided numerous suggestions and helped me to polish the finished product.

My wife Trish is always the first to read my work, and therefore she has the burden of seeing my stories in their roughest form. Thankfully, she does not hesitate to point out where things are a mess. Her suggestions are what get the editing process started. She also helps with various promotional efforts. And finally, she not only tolerates my obsession with writing, she actually encourages it.

I also owe thanks to those in my Advance Reviewer group. They were able to point out numerous typos and inconsistencies.

Finally, I am thankful to all the independent freelance designers out there who provide quality work for independent authors such as myself. Jake Caleb Clark (www.jcalebdesign.com) created the awesome cover for Bridgers 2: The Cost of Survival. Najla (najlakay on fiverr.com) created the cool map of the bridge-in site.

Copyright © 2018 by Stan C. Smith

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

To those who refuse to
give up on the ones they love.

The Voice of Reason

Fighting to survive is human nature. So that’s what we do. End of story.

Infinity Fowler

1

The Burrow

Passerina Fowler bounded up the stairs and onto the porch of the Burrow, carefully avoiding the third step, which had caved in a few weeks ago.

“What’s up, Passie?” It was Meg Farro. Meg and the Baradad brothers were sitting on the weathered floor of the porch, leaning against the house and passing around a joint.

Passerina shucked her backpack and sat down beside Meg. “What’s up, you guys?”

Marvin Baradad sucked on the joint and then offered it to Passerina. She eyed it for a moment and thought, why the hell not? It wasn’t much more than a roach at this point, so she pinched it carefully and took one quick hit before giving it to Meg. She held her breath, leaned her head back against the Burrow’s wall, and felt the smoke burning her throat.

“Long day?” Marvin asked.

Passerina shrugged and nodded, still holding her breath.

Victor, Marvin’s older brother, took the roach from Meg and drew heavily on it, burning his fingers. He dropped it and ground it into the porch with his thumb. He exhaled and said, “You should just quit. I dropped out at your age and look where I am today.”

He was making a joke, but the amazing smile he flashed threw Passerina off, and her laugh came out as a cough. Damn, he was cute. Victor was the oldest guy living in the Burrow, probably nineteen or twenty, and he was the one who made sure the rent got paid. Each kid had to pay twenty bucks a month, and Victor would threaten to stomp their faces in if they didn’t pay on time. He was one hell of a mean fighter, and most of the kids were afraid of him. But not Passerina. She wasn’t afraid of anyone.

Passerina got to her feet and grabbed her backpack. “Gotta do a shit-load of homework.”

Marvin pulled a fresh joint from his shirt pocket. “I got another if you wanna chill with us instead.”

She glanced at Victor, but his face was expressionless. She shook her head. “Thanks, but too much to do.” She stepped to the screen door and entered the dim light of the Burrow’s big room.

Once upon a time, the big room must have been a family room or living room, when the Burrow was actually a house for a real family. Now it was a gathering place for parties and sparring. A few ratty couches lined the walls, but Victor didn’t allow anyone to sleep in the big room. Each kid had a mattress-sized spot in one of the five bedrooms. At any given time, about twenty kids were staying at the Burrow, most of them losers or runaways. Passerina figured she was both.

She heard several kids in the kitchen, but she went straight to the green bedroom. Although she shared the room with two other girls and three guys, she had a cozy corner that included the doorless closet. The girl who used to have this corner had disappeared one night, and no one had seen her since. Passerina had wanted the corner, but so had three other kids, so Victor had made them fight for it. The first two—both girls—had chickened out at the last minute, so Passerina had only needed to kick one ass to get the corner. She had crushed the kid’s nose and bitten off part of his lip before he’d given up.

She dropped her backpack on her mattress but then noticed that some of her things had been moved. And her blue t-shirt was gone. She’d washed it in the sink yesterday and hung it on a nail to dry. She spun around and scanned the room.

No t-shirt.

She found the shirt in the kitchen, being worn by Eddy Chastain. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten into her stuff.

She stormed up to him and shoved him against the stove. The pan of canned ravioli he’d been heating slid back and splattered the stove’s knobs.

“What the hell, Passie?”

“Give me my shirt, Eddy! I was going to wear it to school tomorrow.” The prick hated being called by his real name. He usually introduced himself as Kevlar.

He half-smiled and shook his head. “Cool it. I didn’t have a clean shirt, and I saw it hanging there.”

She shoved him again. “Take it off!”

His smile turned into a scowl. “Screw you, Passie. You’re wasting your time going to school anyway.”

“Just give her the shirt, man,” said Salvador, one of the six or so other kids standing around in the kitchen.

Eddy’s scowl deepened. “I said I didn’t have a clean shirt. I’ll take it off when I go to—”

Passerina hit him in the face. Eddy stumbled back against the stove, burning his hand on the hot coil. “Aw, shit!” He shook his hand wildly.

“You two—take this into the big room.” It was Victor. He was standing in the kitchen’s doorway.

“I’m not fighting this psycho bitch,” Eddy said. “If she didn’t want anyone wearing her shirt, she shouldn’t have hung it—”

Passerina hit him again, this time splitting his lip. She was going to make sure the bastard never got into her stuff again.

Eddy thrust his arm back, grabbed the pan of ravioli, and hurled the whole thing at her. The pan hit her shoulder and hot goo splattered her face and chest. Before she could react, Eddy was on her. He pushed her against the wall and then landed a punch to her forehead.

She raised her arms to block his fists, but then she heard Eddy hit the floor. She lowered her arms to look. Victor was leaning over Eddy, holding him down by the throat.

“Little man,” Victor said, his voice calm. “That’s not how we fight here.” Victor then grabbed Eddy’s hair and dragged him through the doorway into the big room. “Passie!” Victor called over his shoulder. “Get your ass in here!”

Trembling with fury, Passerina left the kitchen, followed by the other kids.

Victor released Eddy’s hair. “Get up.”

Eddy got to his feet, sucking air through his teeth like a mad dog.

“You two really want to do this?” Victor demanded.

Passerina nodded. “Damn right.”

Eddy just nodded, his eyes wider now.

“House rules, then,” Victor said. He stepped back. “Give them room!”

The ten or so kids who were now gathered around moved back to the edges of the room.

Passerina didn’t wait for Eddy. She lunged at him, wildly throwing punches at first and then trying to scratch his face as he went down. She got her teeth into his shoulder and bit down.

He screamed and cussed, but Passerina was too enraged to understand his words at this point. She locked her fingers onto fistfuls of his hair to keep him from pushing her away. She found his ear with her teeth and bit down, trying to rip it from his head.

His screams got louder, and he stopped pushing with his arms. She felt him move his hands down to his waist, fumbling for his left pocket.

Passerina released his hair and tried to grab his wrist.

“Get your hand out of your pocket!” Victor said, although the shouting kids in the room nearly drowned out his voice.

Eddy’s hand came out. Something cold slid into Passerina’s belly. Eddy’s arm moved, and the cold came again, and then a third time.

Someone grabbed Eddy and yanked him from beneath her, ripping his ear from her teeth.

She heard fists hitting flesh. She got to her knees.

“Oh shit, Passie!” a voice said. It was Meg.

Passerina looked down. Her abdomen was bleeding in three places. Beside her, a sneakered foot came down hard on Eddy’s hand, cracking bones and causing the knife to skitter across the wood floor.

Passerina stood up and pushed past several bystanders to the front door. She crossed the porch and descended the stairs, avoiding the collapsed third step.

Behind her, she heard Eddy cry, “Stop! I’ve had enough!” But still, fists and feet continued pummeling him.

She stood in the dirt and gazed up at the sky. Cotton-ball clouds were drifting overhead. She remembered a lesson in science class on how clouds were formed. They were nothing more than tiny bits of water, clinging to specks of dust and ice.

“Damn, Passie, you don’t look so good.” Victor was now standing beside her, breathing hard, the sweat on his face sparkling like glitter. “County hospital’s seven blocks away. Can you walk, or am I carrying you?”

“I don’t have any money,” she said.

He took her arm and started guiding her to the sidewalk. “What are you, sixteen? They’ll take you in, trust me. If you have an ID, leave it with me. Give them a fake name and address.”

It hurt to walk, but she damn well wasn’t going to be carried. “I don’t have any ID.”

He nodded, still holding her arm. They walked to the corner and crossed Third Avenue.

“Once they patch you up and let you go—if they let you go—you come back to the Burrow, okay? I got plans for you. I’m taking you to the Scrapyard.”

She turned to look at him. This caused her to stumble, so she went back to focusing on the sidewalk.

“It’s my training club,” he said. “Mostly mixed martial arts, but they’ll train you in other styles if you want.”

“I said I don’t have any money.”

“Doesn’t matter. The guys at the Scrapyard, they’ve been where you are. They get it. It’ll change your life. You’ve got wicked aggression—like, crazy wicked—but you don’t have any technique. The trainers at the Scrapyard, they’ll make you into a real fighter.”

They crossed North Third Drive, and then Fourth Avenue. Passerina looked down at her wounds, which were still bleeding heavily. Two t-shirts wrecked in one day. She’d have to steal a few more.

They crossed Fifth Avenue, and then Sixth, and Seventh.

“You can see it from here,” Victor said. “I’ve kind of worn out my welcome there, so it’s probably best if I go back. You gonna be okay?”

Passerina nodded, although she was starting to feel like she might throw up.

“Remember, come back. And then the Scrapyard. Okay?”

She nodded again. He flashed his smile and then headed back toward the Burrow.

Passerina turned and continued putting one foot in front of the other, focusing on three gray, metal words bolted to a stone wall—Maricopa County Hospital.

2

Lexington

13 years later - September 1 - 6:43 AM

The aroma of bacon and eggs drifted in under the bedroom door. The pillowcase smelled fresh, like it had just been washed. Infinity Fowler opened her eyes and stared through lace window curtains at the eastern sky, which was starting to turn orange. She’d been awake for at least an hour, going over old memories. Why did she keep going back to them? Maybe because she knew the end was getting closer every day.

She rolled over and gazed at the back of Desmond’s head, only inches away. His scalp bristled with five days of growth, but the stubble was surprisingly smooth to the touch. He’d had a ponytail when she’d first met him. That had been only a month ago, just before his first bridging excursion. So much had changed since then.

She sat up and gazed at the quilt covering them. A vine made from pieces of green fabric stretched from one end of the quilt to the other. Infinity had never slept in a bed with a quilt on it. Nor had she ever actually slept in a bed with a man in it. She had never trusted any guy enough to let herself become that vulnerable. She had enjoyed sleeping with Desmond, but she doubted she’d have the opportunity again.

She slipped out of the bed and pulled on her t-shirt, panties, and shorts. Barefoot, she opened the door, snuck out, and padded down the hallway. Lenny and Xavier were sleeping on air mattresses in the living room, so she bypassed that room and went straight to the kitchen.

Roslyn Weaver was placing plates and forks on the granite-topped island as discreetly as possible. She glanced up at Infinity and smiled. “You must be a morning person, too.”

Infinity shrugged. “I’ve learned to sleep in brief bursts.” She nodded at the sizzling pans on the stove. “That smells amazing.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten anything besides the food at SafeTrek’s cafeteria. And with the world going to hell, the quality of that food had taken a turn for the worse.

“Help yourself to coffee,” Roslyn said, pointing to a drip coffeemaker on the counter.

“Maybe just some water?”

Roslyn opened a cabinet, plucked out a glass that resembled the bottom half of an old-fashioned Coke bottle, and handed it to Infinity. “There’s ice in the freezer.”

Infinity went straight to the sink, filled the glass, and took a long drink, washing away her morning mouth. Leaning against the counter, she watched Roslyn push a heap of eggs around in a pan with a plastic spatula. The woman looked to be in her mid to late fifties. She had long hair the same sandy color as Desmond’s but with gray streaks, tied loosely behind her head. But it was her eyes that made it obvious she was Desmond’s mother. Her eyes had that same alert, silently-aware-of-everything look, as well as a glint of a smile, even when there was little or nothing worth smiling about.

“I want to thank you,” Roslyn said without looking over at Infinity. “I understand how important it is—what you and Desmond are doing. With everything that’s going on right now, I didn’t expect he’d be able to come here. And the fact that you came with him. And Lenny and Xavier. Well, that means so much to me.”

Infinity drained the last of the water. “It’s only a seven-hour drive. Any farther and we probably wouldn’t have gotten the OK.”

Flying hadn’t been an option. Some airports had already been destroyed in storms or earthquakes, and most flights were now reserved for transporting well-connected people or for getting selected refugees to the two bridging facilities still functioning in North America.

“Seeing Desmond one last time means more to me than I can express,” Roslyn said.

Infinity filled her glass again. “You should know Desmond has worked his ass off trying to get you a spot in one of the colonies. It’s just… well, it’s not as easy as it sounds. I’m sorry.”

Roslyn glanced at Infinity and smiled with a strength Infinity admired. “I understand.” She pushed the eggs around one more time and then turned the stove off. “Have you been able to say goodbye to your own family?”

“Don’t really have family.”

Roslyn frowned, but then she nodded slowly. “Desmond doesn’t tell me everything, but I can see that you’re more to him than a bridging partner. I want you to know….” She hesitated. “I’m pleased he has someone to be with during this time.”

Infinity let out a soft laugh. “I bet I’m not the kind of girl you expected him to bring home.”

She didn’t smile at this. “If he’s happy, I’m happy. If he cares for you, I care for you.”

Infinity studied the woman’s eyes. Roslyn was sincere. What would it feel like to be loved by a parent in this way?

“He told me your real name is Passerina. I think I like that better than Infinity.”

“He told you that?”

“But I’ll call you Infinity if you prefer,” Roslyn quickly added, seeming to recognize Infinity’s surprise.

Infinity just shrugged.

“Can you tell me something, Infinity? I know it’s prying, but with the world collapsing, I’ll probably never get another chance.”

Infinity shrugged again.

“I understand you and Desmond will be part of one of the last refugee colonies. When that happens, do you imagine the two of you staying together? It would comfort me to know he will have a family.”

Infinity stared at her. “Well, I don’t—”

“Great gods of bacon, please tell me that food is for us!” Lenny stood in the doorway to the kitchen, yawning and stretching, wearing only boxer shorts.

Roslyn raised her brows at Infinity before turning to Lenny. “Well, it’s the least I could do.”

Lenny swung around to face the living room. “Des! Xavier!” his voice boomed. “Get up. Breakfast!”

* * *

8:30 AM

In front of Roslyn’s house, Joaquim and Gideon, the two National Guardsmen assigned as escorts, waited patiently in their idling Humvee. They had spent the night at a nearby hotel. Roslyn had invited them to sleep in her house, but there simply hadn’t been room.

Infinity, Lenny, and Xavier stood awkwardly in the grass beside the silver Grand Cherokee they’d driven to Roslyn’s house. The vehicle was one of several thousand that had been abandoned beside the road near SafeTrek by refugees lucky enough to get a spot in one of the outgoing colonies. As instructed, the colonists had all left their keys with SafeTrek personnel.

Infinity fidgeted. Desmond had been embracing his mother for a full minute. As they pulled back from each other, Infinity studied their faces. The depth of their relationship was fascinating to her, unlike anything she’d ever experienced—at least for as long as she could remember.

The mother and son gazed at each other for a few more seconds without speaking. Infinity couldn’t imagine what words would be appropriate at this moment. When she was fourteen, her last words to her parents had been something like, “I hope you both die in pain.” It hadn’t been her best moment. And as far as she knew now, that could very well be what had happened to them. Or, if they were still alive somewhere, it would definitely happen soon. Probably within weeks—a few months at the most.

Roslyn put her hand on Desmond’s cheek and forced a smile. She moved her hand to the top of his head, caressing the bristle. “You’re still handsome, even without your hair.”

He forced a smile of his own. “You should probably try to stay in the house as much as you can. Do you have enough food?”

She waved a hand at the other houses on the street. “I’m fine. We’ve all been watching out for each other.”

Infinity studied the other houses. Faces gazed back at her through some of the windows.

“What about quilting supplies?” Desmond asked. “Do you want us to run to Joann’s?”

She shook her head. “Joann’s closed a week ago. Can you believe that? But I have more than enough to keep me busy for a year. Which, I suppose, is more than I’ll need.”

They gazed at each other for several more long seconds.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

Again she smiled. She started to say something, but then she just nodded.

He pulled her to him and kissed her forehead. Then he turned and got into the Cherokee’s back seat.

Lenny stepped up and gave the woman a brief hug. Xavier did the same. They got in the front seats, Lenny behind the wheel. Lenny and Xavier each still wore a boot on one foot from their weeks-old bridging injuries, but they could get around fine now, and Lenny had insisted on being the driver for this trip.

Infinity approached Desmond’s mother, unsure what to say. “I’m glad I could meet you, Roslyn.” She stepped closer and spoke softly. “Um, do you happen to have a gun in your house?”

Roslyn shook her head, frowning.

“Well, things are falling apart everywhere. We saw some ugly scenes on the drive here. It might get a lot worse. I recommend you and your neighbors get together and make a plan. Choose the largest house and all of you move yourselves and your supplies there. Those who have guns should bring them. Strength in numbers, you know?”

Roslyn gazed back at her. “Desmond told me you were a survivor—always prepared for the worst.”

Infinity nodded once. “It comes with the job.”

“You two take care of each other.”

Infinity sensed that she should give the woman a hug, but hugging wasn’t really her thing, so she just went to the Cherokee. She pointed to one of the houses on the other side of the street. “That one would be a good choice. The porch is elevated, and the second-floor windows will allow you to spot people approaching. The place is defensible.” Without another word, she signaled to the two escorts in the Humvee and got into the back seat of the Cherokee beside Desmond.

“Damn, Des,” Lenny said. “Make her get in and come with us. Pick her up and put her in the car if you have to.”

Desmond ignored this and said, “Let’s go.”

Infinity had heard him the previous night trying to convince Roslyn to come back to SafeTrek, at least to stay in the guarded refugee encampment outside the facility. She had refused. She wanted to stay in her house until the end, surrounded by her quilts and her memories associated with the place. Infinity didn’t blame her. Who would want to live out their final days surrounded by people who had been selected to survive? Many of them had probably been selected because of their money or positions of power. Definitely not Infinity’s kind of crowd.

Desmond stared at his mother as Lenny drove the Cherokee away from the curb. Roslyn stood on her lawn, one hand covering her mouth, the other raised in a final wave.

Saddest damn thing Infinity had ever seen. Maybe she was lucky she didn’t have that kind of relationship with her own parents.

* * *

8:56 AM

Lexington was better off than many of the other places they’d seen while traveling. Here, most of the houses and businesses were undamaged. Maybe something about this area minimized extreme weather events and earthquakes. But before long the earthquakes would get much worse, even here.

Infinity gazed through the window as they passed a man walking a chubby, white dog. The dog was squatting in the grass taking a piss, and the guy was patiently waiting—as if everything in the world was completely normal. Infinity supposed if she were able to choose a place to live out her last weeks, she would pick a place like this. Nice houses, each of them a different color and shape, instead of rows of identical clone units. Green lawns with mulched flower beds. And guys who walked their dogs like they had all the time in the world. She imagined that the guy would even say hello to her if she were to walk by him on the sidewalk, maybe even say something pleasant about the weather. Infinity knew Desmond hadn’t grown up here in Kentucky, but she was willing to bet the place where he had grown up was just like this.

Why in the hell was he even interested in her?

“You okay, man?” Xavier asked Desmond.

Desmond wiped his eyes for the hundredth time and nodded silently, still staring out the window. He then turned and faced his two buddies in the front seats. “Thanks for coming along, you guys. I wish we could just keep driving east so you could see your families. I’m sorry.”

Xavier’s family was in New York, and Lenny’s was in South Carolina. Even if there had been time to drive that far, Armando Doyle, Infinity’s boss, wouldn’t have allowed it. More accurately, that asshole Reece Eagleton wouldn’t have allowed it. Eagleton, a regional administrator for FEMA, had been appointed by the president of the United States to take charge of SafeTrek’s attempts to bridge refugees to alternate versions of Earth, a last-ditch effort to save at least a few human lives. Eagleton was a hard-ass bureaucrat who seemed to take pleasure in passing down inflexible orders from those who had no idea of what bridging was like.

After several seconds of silence, Lenny said, “My sisters have gathered at Mom and Dad’s house. They’re all going to stay there together until the end. To be honest, bro, I don’t think I could handle going there and looking them in the eye. I just couldn’t. It’s better this way.”

“Same here, Des,” Xavier said. “I admire you coming here to see your mom, but for me it’s easier this way.”

Infinity knew they were both lying. Or maybe they weren’t. It was none of her business, anyway.

They drove out of the city on a six-lane highway, but traffic was almost nonexistent. Weeks ago, the initial waves of panic had resulted in mass chaos, followed by congested roads as people tried to get to their loved ones, or to wherever they intended to spend their final days. But now apparently most people had already arrived at their destinations. Many of the gas stations had been abandoned, which was why Joaquim and Gideon’s Humvee was loaded with full gas canisters.

Lenny suddenly slowed the Cherokee. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

Infinity leaned forward to look. Two horses were standing in the middle of the highway. Next to them were the mangled carcasses of two more horses, obviously killed by a large vehicle.

“Someone let them all loose,” Xavier said. He was staring out to the right. Dozens of horses were moving toward the highway, scattering from a large park-like compound surrounded by a curving white fence.

“It’s Keeneland,” Desmond said. “It’s a race track. Also the biggest auction house for Thoroughbreds. Those are racehorses. Some of them are worth millions.”

Lenny cautiously drove forward, and the two horses moved out of the way. More horses were moving toward the highway ahead, so he skirted around the carcasses and sped away.

* * *

1:05 PM

A storm hit as the Cherokee and Humvee approached the confluence of the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers. It started with a gust of wind that nearly blew the Cherokee off the road. Heavy rain followed, hammering the windshield with massive drops. And then something occurred that Infinity had never seen before—four tornadoes formed in a cluster over the wide expanse of river. Lenny pulled to the shoulder and they watched. The four dark vortexes followed the river for half a mile or so as they moved southeast, swerving around each other and crisscrossing, almost like they were dancing. When they hit land at a bend in the river, they disappeared as quickly as they had formed. As if on cue, the rain and wind stopped as well.

Without saying a word, Lenny pulled back onto the road, followed by the Humvee. The road ran parallel to the river for a mile or so and then abruptly turned west to a long bridge over the Ohio River. Once on the bridge, Infinity gazed out at the barges jumbled up below. Some were overturned. Others were actually on land, hundreds of yards from the water, as if the area had flooded recently. The bridge was littered with debris from the storm, but they were able to cross it easily.

Once over the bridge, they were on a flat point of land that was the southern tip of Illinois. Minutes later, they were on another bridge, this one crossing the Mississippi River into Missouri. They were now only a couple hours from SafeTrek.

But Infinity could see that the far end of the bridge was jammed with vehicles.

Past the edge of the river but still twenty feet above Missouri soil, they came to a stop behind a dozen or so cars and trucks held up by some kind of blockage at the end of the bridge. Most of the drivers had left their vehicles and were gathered in a mass about a hundred yards ahead where the bridge ended.

Infinity’s chest tightened. Even at this distance, something about the body language of the gathered people triggered her readiness alarm. “This doesn’t look good,” she said. “We should turn around before we get boxed in from behind.”

“But this is the shortest way,” Xavier protested. “Surely they’ll have it cleared soon.”

Two torsos appeared next to the Cherokee, both covered in the operational camouflage pattern of the Army National Guard uniform. One of the torsos belonged to Joaquim, who rapped his knuckles on the driver window. Lenny lowered the window.

“You folks sit tight,” Joaquim said. “We’ll go see what’s holding things up.”

“We can just turn around,” Infinity said. “Avoid possible conflict.”

Joaquim shook his head. “It’s probably just a fender bender, ma’am. Maybe they need a hand to move a vehicle. Just sit tight.” He and Gideon turned and walked ahead toward the crowd of people.

Infinity sighed loudly. She had nearly forgotten how overconfident these guys could be. Their firearms were sometimes useful, but there was something to be said for caution and strategy. Maybe they just needed to experience a few bridging excursions. She watched the two guardsmen stomping toward the crowd as if they intended to knock some heads together.

“Goddammit!” she muttered. She threw her door open, got out, and followed the guardsmen. Seconds later, she heard Desmond, Xavier, and Lenny get out to follow her. When she was halfway to the crowd, she noticed several shotgun barrels protruding above the heads of the thirty or so people.

Desmond was now walking beside her. “Don’t you think we should wait in the car?”

She kept her eyes on the scene before her. “I think you three should wait in the car.”

When she got to the crowd, the guardsmen had already pushed their way through to the center. Infinity held back, standing up taller to see over the shoulders of several men and women.

“You’re not coming in!” a man snarled. “I don’t care who you are or where you’re from.”

Infinity moved to the side until she could see the person speaking. He was a large man with a buzz cut and wearing a navy blue t-shirt. More importantly, he was holding an AR-15, pointing it directly at Joaquim’s face.

“You got no business coming to Missouri,” the man said. “None of you do. The bridging center’s got a line a mile long. We live here. If they won’t take me and my family, they sure as hell aren’t taking any of you! Just turn around and go back.”

“Sir, we happen to be from Missouri,” Joaquim said in a controlled voice. “We just passed over this bridge yesterday, and we’re on our way back. You’re blocking a public road.”

The man shoved the AR’s muzzle forward, inches from Joaquim’s face. “Oh yeah? Where exactly in Missouri are you from?”

Joaquim hesitated.

Don’t say it, Infinity thought.

“We’ve been assigned to securing the SafeTrek bridging facility.”

This was followed by silence.

“Dammit!” Infinity said aloud, and she pushed her way through the crowd until she was standing between the two guardsmen. Both of them were at least four inches taller than her, and the man with the AR was another four inches taller than them. And now she saw that six other men were lined up across the road behind him, all of them holding various firearms.

The guy’s eyes narrowed when he saw Infinity. He stared at her bald scalp, and then his eyes moved down to the freshly-stitched wounds on her neck and shoulders.

She raised her right arm so he could see the SafeTrek tattoo on the back of her hand.

His eyes went from narrow to wide. “Bridger!”

“That’s right,” she said. “We’re on our way back to SafeTrek because President Millright has ordered us to bridge another colony out. Direct orders. From President Hayley Millright.”

“I heard Millright was dead,” one of the other armed men said. “Air Force One was knocked out of the sky by a freak storm, like the one that just passed through here.”

Infinity ignored this. She studied the big man before her. He was obviously leading the others. “You know why I keep working as a bridger while the world is falling apart? Because I can. It’s what I do best. It makes me feel like there is this one goddamn thing I can have some control over.” She let this sink in for a moment. “Maybe that feeling is something you can identify with?”

The man’s features softened a little, and he smiled slightly. “You nailed it. That’s precisely how I feel. Which is why I’m controlling this bridge. Because I can.” He then gazed at her without moving.

Well, that didn’t work. Infinity decided to try a different approach.

Before she could speak, Joaquim said, “Sir, we’re coming through whether you like it or—”

“Shut up!” the man roared. “You people sicken me. It’s your technology that’s destroying everything in the first place. And now you just wanna keep using it, over and over. Did you ever think that if you just quit bridging people, the world would stop collapsing?”

The men behind him had raised their guns menacingly. One of them said, “We’re all gonna die because of you.”

“Let’s go, Sarah,” one of the other drivers said, apparently to his wife. The crowd of drivers and passengers started heading back to their vehicles.

Infinity realized it was useless to argue with the armed men. “Alright. We’ll turn around and go back.” She grabbed the elbows of the two guardsmen. “Let’s go.”

“The hell we will,” Joaquim said, reaching for his sidearm.

The bridge trembled. Everyone froze. Then the bridge trembled again. The tremors intensified and didn’t stop.

“Everyone get off the bridge!” Joaquim shouted.

The people who hadn’t reached their cars yet began running back toward the armed men.

“No!” The big man shouted. He fired his AR three times into the air.

But now the crowd was panicked, and they kept coming. One of the men fired a shotgun, and Joaquim staggered back, clutching his face. “Aw, shit! They shot me. I can’t see!”

Desmond grabbed Joaquim and guided him behind an SUV for cover.

Everything went to hell. A driver in one of the foremost cars punched the accelerator, ramming a car out of the way, and barreled toward the armed men. The men opened fire, and the car suddenly turned, hit the guardrail, and rolled over onto its side, blocking the road. The vehicle rocked back and forth as the earthquake rumbled on.

Gideon pulled out his sidearm and raised it to fire at the men, but Infinity grabbed his arm. “There’s too many of them!” she cried. “Just take cover.”

But now the mass of cars had become just as dangerous as the armed men. The panicked drivers were squealing their tires and ramming into each other trying to get turned around.

A bullet shattered a car window near Infinity’s head, helping her pick between a rock and a hard place. “Back to the vehicles!” she shouted. Gideon helped Desmond guide Joaquim, who was still blinded, and they all headed back toward the river. Infinity ran ahead and waved wildly at the drivers, trying to prevent them from running the group over.

Some of the cars nearest the bank were just getting turned around when Infinity and the others made it to the Cherokee. While Desmond and Gideon took Joaquim to the Humvee and loaded him in, Infinity, Lenny, and Xavier got in the Cherokee. Lenny threw it into gear and frantically rammed several other cars getting it turned around. He braked beside the Humvee and Desmond jumped in. Another car sideswiped them as they accelerated toward the river and the Illinois side of the bridge, followed by the Humvee.

Seconds later they were over the water. And then they were halfway across the river.

“Oh no,” Lenny said. “I think we’re screwed.” He was looking in his side mirror.

Infinity turned around to look. “Go! Go faster!”

The green steel trusses behind them were buckling as the center of the bridge collapsed.

3

Water

September 1 - 1:57 PM

Desmond twisted in his seat to watch out the Jeep’s rear window. The bridge’s trusses, thirty feet high and reinforced with cross bracing, were folding inward as a large section of the road collapsed into the river. And since the trusses were all connected, the collapse was expanding at a frightening rate. Several of the fleeing cars dropped out of sight toward the river.

“Faster, Lenny!” Desmond cried. “We’re not going to make it!”

Behind the Jeep was the Humvee, followed by the three remaining civilian vehicles. The most distant of those three vehicles dropped from view. The driver in the next car up panicked, and the car swerved to the side and bounced off the guardrail before being swallowed by the widening collapse.

“Come on, Gideon,” Infinity muttered to the guardsman driving the Humvee. “Move it!”

The Humvee was only twenty yards behind them, but the collapsing road was catching up. The last vehicle behind the Humvee, a red pickup truck, plunged to the river with a large chunk of the road.

“Get out of the way!” Lenny shouted as he overtook the SUV in front of the Jeep and rammed its bumper, throwing Desmond and Infinity against the two seat backs.

Desmond floundered and then looked out the back window again. But now the Humvee was gone. The road was collapsing in chunks only twenty yards back. And then ten.

“God almighty,” Xavier said, looking back. “We’re going down.”

The Cherokee cleared the portion of the bridge supported by steel trusses just as the remaining steel collapsed, taking the section of road it had been supporting with it. But then it all stopped. The bridge beyond the trusses remained standing.

Desmond realized they were over land now, still on the bridge but far past the river’s edge. “Joaquim and Gideon may have gone down on solid ground, not into the river,” he said. “They may be okay.”

“Lenny,” Infinity said, “pull over up there at the end of the bridge.”

Seconds later Lenny stopped where the guardrails gave way to a grassy shoulder. Infinity threw open her door and took off down the embankment. Desmond got out and followed, trying to keep up. He glanced back and saw that Lenny and Xavier were limping along behind.

Most of the area on either side of the bridge was a flat, muddy crop field, but the concrete bridge supports were embedded in a grassy ridge firm enough to run on.

The outer edge of the collapsed portion of the bridge was at least a quarter mile from the Jeep, and Desmond was panting by the time he caught up with Infinity at the Humvee. The vehicle was on its side amongst twisted steel trusses and broken pieces of concrete. Miraculously, the extra gas canisters in the back of the Humvee seemed to be intact.

One of the guardsmen was on the ground next to the vehicle, pulling the other’s arms, trying to extract him from the wreckage through the shattered windshield. “Help me pull him out!” It was Gideon speaking, but Desmond barely recognized his blood-covered face.

“We’ll check on the other drivers,” Xavier said as he and Lenny caught up. The two of them then continued on past the Humvee.

Desmond and Infinity joined Gideon, and together they pulled Joaquim through the windshield and dragged him to the grass beside the rubble. Gideon rolled the guardsman over and pressed his fingers to the man’s throat. Waiting silently, Desmond stared. Joaquim’s face was riddled with shotgun pellet holes, and both his eyes had been hit. His eyeballs hung loosely in their sockets, two wrinkled, empty sacks.

“Is he alive?” Infinity asked, but her even tone indicated she already suspected the worst.

Gideon swore softly and shook his head.

Xavier and Lenny approached, returning more quickly than Desmond had expected. “Only one other car didn’t fall into the river,” Lenny said. “Both passengers are seriously dead. Probably because they didn’t have a Humvee around them to protect—” He stopped talking when he saw everyone staring at Joaquim’s body.

“And the river’s rising,” Xavier said, obviously trying not to look at Joaquim. “Like, really fast. We need to get back up to the Jeep.”

Desmond looked toward the river. It was definitely higher than it had been, and Xavier was right—it was rising up through the trees lining the riverbank at an alarming rate. He was about to turn toward the Jeep when he noticed something else, a large log bumping its way through the standing trees, carried by the current. But it was moving from left to right. Desmond checked the sun—yes, they were standing on the east side of the river. He said, “Um, you guys. Why is the Mississippi River flowing north?”

They all turned and looked.

“That can’t be good,” Xavier said. “We need to go.”

Gideon grabbed Joaquim’s head and lifted the dead guardsman into a sitting position. “Hold him up,” he said to Infinity.

Desmond helped Infinity hoist Joaquim up until Gideon could lift the body onto one shoulder. “Let’s go,” Gideon grunted as he started walking.

They all headed for the Jeep. By the time they were halfway to the beginning of the bridge, Desmond realized the rising river was catching up to them. “Can you go any faster?” he asked Gideon.

Without answering, the guardsman broke into a run, grunting with every stride under the weight of Joaquim’s body.

When they finally reached the embankment, they were already sloshing through half a foot of water. Desmond ran a few yards up the slope and turned around. Gideon was thirty yards behind, heaving audibly with every sloshing step. He tripped abruptly, falling face first into the water with Joaquim’s body.

“Get up there and start the Jeep,” Desmond said to the others.

“You got it, Des,” Lenny said. He and Xavier continued up the slope.

Infinity was in the lead, but she turned around to help Desmond. “Come on,” she said. Desmond followed her down the slope, and they waded into the rising water.

As they approached, Gideon snarled, “I’m not leaving him here!”

“We’re not asking you to,” Infinity replied. “Lift him up and get him over my shoulder.”

“I can carry him,” Gideon said.

“You’re too fatigued!” she cried. “I’ll need the two of you to support him from the sides, but get him onto my shoulder now!”

The water was now a foot deep.

Sloshing in the mud and trying to keep a grip on the 200-pound body, they carried Joaquim together to the embankment and up to the Jeep. Desmond opened the back hatch, and they hoisted the body into the cargo space. Gideon pushed the dead guardsman’s legs into a fetal position and slammed the hatch shut.

Desmond glanced down the embankment in time to see a massive log floating by where they had just carried Joaquim’s body.

Lenny revved the engine, encouraging them to hurry up and get in. Desmond, Infinity, and Gideon crammed into the back seat, and before the doors had even slammed shut, Lenny threw the car into gear and punched the accelerator.

Lenny drove north on the narrow peninsula between the two rivers. They passed by the road to the Ohio River bridge, which they had crossed less than an hour earlier. Desmond could see that this bridge had also collapsed, and several massive barges were jammed up against the south side of the wreckage. Like the Mississippi, the Ohio River was now flowing north. Away from the Gulf of Mexico.

If the bridges to the north were damaged as well, Desmond’s group wouldn’t be able to cross the Mississippi to get back to SafeTrek.

They passed a sign on the side of the road that said, Welcome to Cairo.

They entered the small town, which appeared to have been evacuated already, probably in response to previous flooding. Several inches of mud and debris covered the road. “Good God!” Lenny muttered as he drove around the end of a river barge that had become jammed between a house and an old stone church. The only signs of recent activity were a few sets of tire tracks in the mud, which Desmond assumed were from the few other vehicles that had barely escaped the bridge as it had collapsed into the Mississippi.

A few minutes after leaving Cairo, they came to an interstate highway. “I don’t have much of a signal, but I’m pretty sure this road leads to another bridge over the Mississippi into Missouri,” Xavier said, looking at the GPS app on his phone.

Lenny turned onto the highway, and soon they were approaching the bridge. Desmond’s heart sank as he realized this bridge had also been destroyed. And beyond the levee, the highway leading to the bridge was under water. As Lenny turned the Jeep around, Desmond watched the still-rising water pushing barges, rail freight containers, and what looked like several mobile homes northward.

They continued driving north. Thirty minutes later they came to yet another bridge. This one was intact, possibly because it was a suspension bridge, held high above the river by steel cables connected to massive concrete stanchions.

They began crossing the bridge toward the riverside town of Cape Girardeau, Missouri. But another roadblock was set up at the west end of the bridge. Three pickup trucks were arranged across the west-bound lanes, and four men waved them to a stop. Unlike the last roadblock, there were no other vehicles waiting to pass. Perhaps the men, who were armed with what looked like deer rifles, had been letting cars through.

Lenny stopped the Jeep ten yards from the trucks, and one of the men began walking forward. Gideon opened his door, got out, and pointed his sidearm at the approaching man. He growled, “I don’t care what you have to say or why you’re in our way. I just want to know who’s the leader so I can shoot him first.”

The approaching man paused and frowned, “We don’t want violence. We’re just here because we don’t want any more people—”

Gideon shot the man. The guy screamed and fell to the road, clutching his thigh. Gideon pointed his pistol at the others. “Who do I need to shoot next?”

“Jesus, man, he was trying to tell you we don’t want violence!” one of the other men shouted. The guy’s eyes were wide, but he and the other two kept their rifles pointed at the ground.

Gideon walked over to the fallen man, picked up the dropped rifle, and heaved it over the guardrail. The trucks were positioned hundreds of yards from the river’s edge, so the rifle clattered onto the rocky embankment. “Move your goddamn trucks. Now!”

Without saying a word, two of the men got in their pickups and began moving them. The third man held his hands up, hoisting his rifle into the air to show that he wasn’t a threat. He nodded at the man Gideon had shot. “Rick’s got the keys to his truck. I’m going to help him, okay?”

“Throw your rifle off the bridge,” Gideon said.

The guy hesitated. “Come on, man, this thing cost me twelve-hundred bucks.”

Gideon leveled his gun at him. “You have three seconds.”

The man sighed and tossed his rifle over the side.

Gideon backed toward the Jeep and nodded toward Rick. “Get him off the road or we’ll run him over.” Gideon got in the backseat. His face was still covered with dried blood, and he was scowling like a madman. “Drive,” he said to Lenny.

After staring at Gideon in the rearview mirror for a moment, Lenny pulled the Jeep to the right and drove around Rick and the guy who was dragging him out of the way.

“Nice job,” Infinity muttered to Gideon.

“Wasn’t in the mood for more bullshit,” the guardsman replied.

Desmond swiveled around to look back at the men. A movement to the south caught his eye. For several seconds he stared, unable to believe what he was seeing. In the distance, the river was rising. He could actually see the water swelling, even though it was over a mile away. And the massive surge was moving north, directly toward them. Just as he was about to say something, the Jeep entered a cluster of trees surrounding the road, and he lost sight of the river.

“Lenny, listen carefully,” Desmond said. “I don’t care how fast you have to drive—get us to those hills on the west side of town. This place is going to be under water in about two minutes.”

They exited the cluster of trees, and the river to the south came into view again.

“Oh, crap,” Xavier said. “He’s not kidding, Lenny. Move it!”

Lenny punched the accelerator. Fortunately, Cape Girardeau was mostly abandoned, allowing them to fly through the town at eighty miles per hour.

Desmond couldn’t pry his eyes from the scene behind them. The water was surging through the streets, carrying vehicles, sheds, and smaller debris with it. The Jeep was now at least a mile past the bridge, but Desmond saw the enormous stanchions and suspension cables begin to snap and collapse from the water’s force. And the river was expanding, widening its destructive swath westward.

“Get this damn thing moving!” Infinity cried.

Lenny growled in frustration. “I’ll kill us if I go any faster.” He swerved to the right to dodge a car that was making a U-turn to flee the oncoming deluge.

The water was rising at an astonishing rate, tumbling over itself in gushing torrents, sweeping up anything not fastened down.

“The road arches over an interstate up ahead,” Lenny said. “You think it’s high enough?”

Still looking back, Desmond said, “Better than nothing. Go!” He took a quick glance at the overpass ahead. It seemed too far away for them to make it in time. He turned back to stare at the expanding river. The gushing water seemed unreal, like a scene from a disaster movie. It was relentless, swelling toward the Jeep with unnatural speed.

And then the water overtook them. Perhaps two feet deep, it surged around the speeding Jeep like a boiling tsunami. The vehicle skidded to the side and almost rolled, forcing Lenny to slam on the brakes. This stopped the Jeep’s forward momentum, but the water’s movement continued dragging the vehicle sideways to the north.

“If it takes us into the ditch, we’ll never get back on the road,” Xavier said, gripping the safety handle with both hands and staring out at the gushing water.

Lenny gunned the Jeep and turned it toward the overpass. By angling southward, he was able to overcome the current and move west at the same time. The only way Desmond knew they were still on the road was by watching the signs and vertical marker posts.

Water began pooling on the floorboards, and Desmond silently willed the engine to keep running. Foot by foot, the Jeep moved toward the bridge. Finally, with the engine beginning to sputter, Lenny drove up the slope onto dry pavement. He stopped at the highest point on the overpass. Everyone got out and stood in the middle of the road, staring at the sea of flood water around them.

* * *

4:19 PM

“It’s flowing south again,” Xavier said. “And I think it’s getting shallower.” He was standing at the guardrail. Everyone else was sitting on the road in the shade of the Jeep, where they’d been for the last half an hour.

“The gas tank’s a tad under half full,” Lenny said. “And it looks like we’re about 120 miles from SafeTrek.” He was looking at the screen of his smartphone. He shook his head. “Why in the name of Frodo does everything have to be down to the freaking wire?”

Their supply of extra gas had been in the Humvee, which was now at the bottom of the river somewhere. It was possible they’d find an open gas station before running dry, but it was more likely that they wouldn’t. Of course, they wouldn’t be going anywhere if the flood didn’t recede. Fortunately, Xavier was right—the water was lower now than it had been a few minutes ago.

Desmond noticed that Gideon was staring into the distance. “Gideon, I’m sorry about Joaquim. Have you known him long?”

The guardsman snapped out of his trance. He shook his head. “Met him a few days ago. Organization of labor back at SafeTrek is screwed up. They shuffle us around constantly. Joaquim was a good guy. Had a wife and little girl.” Gideon shook his head. “Most guys I know who have family have already bugged out. But not Joaquim.” He shook his head again.

Xavier approached and sat in the shade of the Jeep beside Lenny. He looked at Gideon and said, “You mind if I ask you something? Did they promise you a spot in one of the colonies?”

Gideon frowned. “No promises were made, but I know some of the guys are counting on that. As for me, sure, I’d jump at the chance for a spot. But either way, I wanna do something that might make a difference.”

“So you think this whole effort to save a few thousand people is worthwhile?”

Gideon looked toward the flooded town of Cape Girardeau for a moment. “Is it true that everyone left behind is going to die?”

“That’s seems to be the consensus,” Xavier replied.

“Then it’s probably worthwhile. Now, it’s my turn to ask you a question. You’re all bridgers, right?”

Desmond spoke up. “Infinity’s the real bridger. I’ve been on two excursions. Lenny and Xavier, only one.”

Gideon shrugged. “That’s more than most people. So how do you feel about this whole effort? Is what you’re doing really okay? I’m not saying we shouldn’t try to save as many people as we can—survival is in our nature. But is this the right way?”

“How do you mean?” Xavier asked.

“I know what he’s getting at,” Infinity said. “He’s asking if it’s ethical to bridge humans to other worlds—to colonize them.”

“Yeah,” Gideon said. “That’s it. You bridgers are sending colonies of humans to places without humans. And to places where humans have turned out to be different from all of us. Isn’t that kind of like… contaminating all these other worlds with a species that has a piss-poor record of doing things right? We wipe out ecosystems and wildlife. We fight with each other. Hell, we even fill the air waves with crap like reality TV.”

Lenny let out a brief laugh. “And there it is, kids. The unvarnished truth.”

“Here’s how I look at it,” Xavier said after a moment of contemplation. “As preposterous as it seems, the reality is that infinite universes really does mean infinite. Even if we manage to successfully bridge a thousand colonies, those thousand worlds are only a drop in the bucket. There are still an infinite number of worlds that don’t get contaminated by humans.”

Gideon grunted. “Hell, there are eight billion people on this world. By your logic, it shouldn’t matter that Joaquim was killed today.”

Xavier looked down at his crossed legs. “I didn’t really mean to say—”

“I know.” Gideon waved a hand dismissively. “I ain’t mad at you, brother. Just making a point. When you bridge a colony, it might matter to whoever or whatever lives on that world. What I’m asking is, how do you bridgers feel about that?”

They were all silent for a moment. Was Gideon right?

Infinity said, “The way I see it, there’s no right or wrong about it. Like you said, Gideon, fighting to survive is human nature. So that’s what we do. End of story.”

Gideon gazed at her for a moment and then nodded.

Desmond got up and stepped to the guardrail. The water below the bridge was nearly gone now. It had left behind all kinds of debris and strangely-beautiful patterns of mud. An object by the edge of the road below drew his attention. He couldn’t be sure, but it appeared to be the mud-caked body of a German Shepherd.

* * *

6:41 PM

Desmond stared at the thousands of perfectly good vehicles that had been abandoned beside the last stretch of County Road UU leading to the SafeTrek facility. Hundreds of people were walking the road toward SafeTrek, some of them wearing backpacks or pulling various carts loaded with supplies. Others had nothing but the clothes they were wearing. These weren’t people selected for official spots in the colonies—the chosen refugees were always brought directly to the gates in buses. These people were hopefuls, leaving everything behind for the slim chance of being allowed to join a colony.

Over three hours behind schedule, and with the gas gauge needle in the red, the Jeep approached SafeTrek’s gates. Countless people were gathered outside the fence, most of them camping in tents. These hopefuls weren’t blocking the road, but hundreds of them swarmed close, making desperate pleas to be considered for a colony.

Lenny lowered the driver-side window. “Sorry, you guys, we don’t have the power to help you. Good luck. Good luck to you. And to you, too, man.” He continued apologizing until the Jeep was at the gate.

No fewer than a hundred National Guardsmen were standing near the gate. Since the gathered hopefuls were being peaceful, the guardsmen apparently had little to do at the moment, and they gathered around the Jeep and started asking questions about the condition of the world beyond SafeTrek’s gates. But then one of them saw Joaquim’s body in the back and quickly instructed another to open the gate.

Once they had passed through, Gideon got out of the Jeep and helped several other men unload the body. Gideon then came back to the Jeep and leaned in Lenny’s window. He said, “Good luck to you all. We’re losing guardsmen every day as guys take off to spend their last days elsewhere. For now, I’m planning to stick it out here. If you need my help, you know where to find me.

They all thanked him, and Lenny started driving up the winding road toward the facility.

Infinity sighed. “If we actually do get a chance to bridge one-way with a colony, I vote we take that guy with us.”

As they made their way up the half-mile road, Desmond gazed at the mangled trees that had been blown over in the recent storm. Scattered amidst this devastation were the tents, RVs, and bunkhouse trailers that housed people who had actually been chosen for colonies. Supposedly, these were the lucky ones. But based on Desmond’s bridging experiences so far, lucky wasn’t the word he would choose.

Hundreds of refugees were gathered beside the parking lot in front of the blocky, concrete SafeTrek building. Andrea Van Loon and Gavin Pushing stood before them on a raised platform, addressing the crowd with a PA system. Andrea and Gavin were the official representatives of colony ST5, which was about to be the fifth colony of 718 refugees to be bridged out from the SafeTrek bridging facility.

Desmond glanced at the clock on the Jeep’s dash—almost 7 PM. This colony’s bio-probe was returning in four hours, at 11 PM. If the test animals returned alive, these people would begin bridging to their destination world at midnight. And since Desmond and Infinity were the only experienced bridgers currently available at SafeTrek, it was their job to assist the colony.

It was a good thing Desmond had gotten a decent night’s sleep at his mom’s house.

4

Armando

September 1 - 8:27 PM

Sitting cross-legged on the floor of her bunk room, Infinity focused on a bottle of protein water she had placed in front of her. She allowed her eyelids to relax but not close completely. She pursed her lips, inhaled through her nostrils, and formed a mental image of the air moving up her nose, through her forehead, over the crown of her skull, down her spine, and into her abdomen, where it gently swirled until it vanished.

She exhaled slowly, trying to clear all anger and fear from her consciousness, an important prerequisite to achieving the desired effects of the meditative state known as Mokuso. She took another deep breath, repeating the visualization of air entering and soothing her body.

But it wasn’t working. Disturbing visions kept invading her mind: rampaging flood waters, Joaquim’s dead face and shredded eyes, Roslyn’s last wave to her son. When she pushed these visions away, others from recent bridging excursions took their place: enraged human-like orcs four times her size tearing the limbs from terrified refugees, intelligent bird men who delighted in hunting and torturing their victims, the faces of Razor and Hornet, the two bridging partners she had lost in recent excursions.

Infinity sighed. She gazed at the variety of easily-digestible foods on a tray on the floor beside her—a half-empty tube of protein paste, a bag of raw almonds, and a bowl of lightly-cooked, lean ground beef. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast at Roslyn’s house in Kentucky, but she wasn’t particularly hungry. She glanced at the clock. 8:30 PM. The bio-probe would return in two and a half hours. If the test animals were alive, she and Desmond would bridge out with the first eighteen members of Colony ST5 at midnight. Not much time to recover from the last disastrous excursion.

She picked up the tube of protein paste, the only item she’d managed to start on, and squeezed a lump into her mouth. She sat chewing the lump, even though it didn’t really need to be chewed.

Someone rapped lightly on her door.

She spoke around the mouthful of paste. “It’s unlocked.”

The door popped open and Armando Doyle poked his head in. “You decent?” He saw that she was naked and pulled his head back. “Um, do you mind?”

Infinity sighed and got up from the floor. She pulled on a t-shirt and shorts. “Alright, come on in.”

Armando peeked in again, and then he entered timidly.

“You’ve seen me without clothes a hundred times,” Infinity said.

Armando closed the door behind him. “Yes, but that’s in the bridging chamber. Here in your room it doesn’t seem appropriate.”

Armando was Infinity’s boss, or at least he had been before the government had taken over SafeTrek. Almost five years ago he had recruited her from a dead-end life in the lower ranks of professional fighting with the promise of adventure, meaningful work, and good pay. Infinity had been so grateful at the time that she could have easily been coaxed by Armando into a sexual relationship, even though he was old enough to be her father. But Armando wasn’t that kind of person.

He looked at the protein water and tray of uneaten food on the floor then tapped his watch. “Three and a half hours before bridging out again. Cutting it kind of close with your meal, aren’t you?”

She shrugged without answering. Armando was referring to the fact that the bridging process would strip away any food that hadn’t been broken down and drawn into her bloodstream. With only three and a half hours, she wouldn’t get to keep much of what she was able to get down.

He gazed at her with a fatherly look she had always found annoying. “You okay, kiddo? Your behavior lately is somewhat concerning.”

She glared back at him. “Tough times. And some of us have to actually bridge out with refugees and watch them die.”

He frowned, looking sincerely hurt.

She studied him for a moment. His eyes were red and sunken. His usual bowtie was missing, and his white shirt appeared to be in its third day or so without being removed or washed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That wasn’t fair. All of this is just wearing me down, I think.”

His face relaxed a bit. “Understandable.” He nodded toward the only chair in her room. “Do you mind if I sit?”

Again she shrugged. As he sat down, she gathered the items from the floor and put them on the desk beside her bed. She sat on the bed, grabbed the bowl of ground beef, and shoved a spoonful of it into her mouth.

“You and Desmond cannot be expected to continue at this pace,” Armando said. “Tomorrow I’m going to recruit some new bridgers. There are several strong candidates among the refugees of ST6.”

“Don’t forget the National Guardsmen,” Infinity offered. “The guy who made it back with us today—his name is Gideon—would be a good choice.”

Armando nodded. “Good to know.”

They sat in silence for a while. Infinity was convinced there wouldn’t be many more colonies bridging out. Bizarre storms were becoming more frequent, and earthquakes were occurring at least every few hours. SafeTrek was only 150 miles from the New Madrid fault near the Kentucky border, and at any second there could be a quake strong enough to bring down the facility.

As if Armando were reading her thoughts, he said, “I learned today that the Norwegian bridging center has been destroyed. Not by quakes, ironically enough, but by rioting mobs.”

She stared at him. “In Norway?”

It was his turn to shrug. “As you said, tough times. We are fortunate that SafeTrek is situated far from large populations. Otherwise we’d need a lot more than two thousand guardsmen protecting us.”

“So only three bridging centers are still functioning?”

He nodded grimly.

“How many colonies have been bridged out successfully?”

He rubbed his chin, thinking. “Thirty-three at last count. Although the ultimate success of these colonies is somewhat dubious.”

Armando was understating the situation. Infinity and Desmond had only bridged out one colony. But close to a third of the 718 refugees had been killed during the first thirty-six hours, while Infinity and Desmond had still been there to help them. Infinity would never know if the rest of that colony had survived. That had been Colony ST3. Since then, Colony ST4 had been assisted by the bridgers, Viper and Falcon. Again, 718 colonists had been bridged out. The world should have been viable, but at the end of the thirty-six-hour excursion, Viper and Falcon had bridged back dead. No discernible cause of death. And no one would ever know whether the refugees they’d assisted had suffered the same fate.

“Thirty-three,” Infinity mused aloud. “Something like twenty-three thousand people. If our goal was to save the human species, I think we’ve failed.” It was worse than that, though. Their bridging had been the cause of the earth’s irreversible collapse in the first place. “Talk about one hell of a guilt trip.”

Armando nodded, a deep, knowing sadness in his eyes. “Indeed.”

Infinity gazed at him. “You don’t come to my room often. Why are you really here?”

He shook his head slightly, as if pushing aside grim thoughts. “Yes, of course. Well, I felt compelled to share a bit of discourse with you regarding something important. Important to me, anyway.”

She raised her brows, waiting.

He cleared his throat. “You’ve been in this business with me from the beginning. Five years. You were one of my first bridgers, and now you and Desmond are the only ones left.”

“What about Trencher and Wraith?” These two had assisted with the bridging of Colony ST2 but had come down with a nasty illness soon after returning. As far as Infinity knew, they were still quarantined but alive.

He shook his head. “Still alive, but they haven’t gotten any better. It doesn’t look good.”

If Trencher and Wraith didn’t survive, then it was likely the 718 refugees they’d bridged out would die of the same illness. In fact, Infinity had half-expected to get sick, as she’d had close contact with Trencher and Wraith after they’d returned.

“What I’m trying to say is this: I’ve always thought—no, hoped—that perhaps you’d survive bridging long enough to get tired of the game. Maybe you’d retire. God knows you surely have earned enough with all the excursions you’ve led. I thought maybe you’d settle down somewhere. Get a house, a good man, maybe even have a kid or two. Then I could come visit you. Like a father visiting his daughter. Or a grandfather visiting his grandchildren. That’s what I imagined might happen one day, kiddo.”

She tried staring at him but instead had to focus on her bottle of protein water. Armando had an actual daughter, although he’d told Infinity once that his daughter lived in Utah and wouldn’t have anything to do with him. That had probably been his doing—he could be difficult at times. Infinity decided this wasn’t the time to mention his real daughter.

“That would have been nice,” she said. “But nice isn’t usually what this world offers. Or any other world, for that matter.”

He shook his head thoughtfully. “No, it isn’t. But I wanted you to know. It was important to me—telling you that.”

Damn. The world really was going to hell if Armando Doyle was getting sentimental. “Are you telling me this because you don’t think you’re going to see me again?”

“Perhaps. There’s more than a negligible chance that this building will be destroyed while we’re bridging out colony ST5. If that happens, you and Desmond will be stuck on the world with the colony.”

“From what I saw yesterday and today on the trip to Kentucky, you may be right.” Infinity took a deep breath. Now that Armando had opened this can of worms, she might as well share something that had been on her mind as well. “So I have a request. Will you do your best to grant it?”

“If it’s within my power,” he said.

“If SafeTrek is still functional, and Desmond and I return alive, I want you to retire.”

He frowned. “What? You know what’s at stake here. I can’t—”

“You can!” she said, more forcefully than she’d intended. “You can. You’re in charge of this place, regardless of what Eagleton says. And if there’s going to be an ST6, you can designate yourself as the leader of those colonists. I want you to go with them.”

He was shaking his head. “I picture myself more as the captain going down with his ship.”

But Infinity wasn’t finished. “If you do this, Desmond and I will volunteer to lead Colony ST6. And we won’t dose ourselves with the radioisotope marker. We’ll bridge one-way with you and the other refugees.” She paused to let this sink in. “Maybe the future you imagined doesn’t have to be out of reach.”

He stared at her for what seemed like a full minute. “You’re serious.”

“Yes. And Desmond will be on board—I’m sure of it. He and I both know it’s unlikely we’ll get to join the last outgoing colony. Because there will never be a last colony. SafeTrek will keep sending them out until this building collapses. That could be tomorrow or a month from now. Armando, I’d like to see it all the way through with one colony—to know that I’ve done one damn thing that actually helped. Instead of living my last few days thinking about the fact that I’m at least partially responsible for killing eight billion people.”

He was still staring at her, his eyes slightly wide. “You really are serious.”

“I’d suggest we do it tonight, with Colony ST5, but I know you won’t go without the chance to put things in order. Maybe recruit some new bridgers, get Celia ready to take your place, whatever else.”

Celia was Armando’s assistant, and lately she’d been running things part of the time anyway so Armando could get some sleep.

Armando looked down at his hands with furrowed brows, and at that moment Infinity knew he was seriously considering it. She decided to keep piling it on. “You’re telling me if Desmond and I do end up having kids, you don’t want to be around to see the little rugrats?”

This did it. She could see it in the way he pursed his lips and tried not to smile. He was giving in to the idea. Of course Infinity had no real intention of having kids, especially not on some hostile alternate version of Earth. Besides, she’d been stabbed in the stomach three times—and kicked more times than she could count—so she doubted she could even have them. But everything else she’d said was true.

“There is one other thing,” she said. “If we do bridge one-way with ST6, I want Lenny and Xavier to be included in the colony. And that National Guardsman, Gideon.”

Armando nodded. “None of that sounds especially prohibitive.” For several more seconds he considered the idea. Finally, he sighed loudly and shook his head. “Right now you need to focus on bridging Colony ST5. And returning from the excursion alive. If this facility is still standing and functional, we’ll see what happens next.”

Infinity nodded. “You got it.” He was right, of course. She needed to focus on ST5. But she knew she had planted a seed of hope in his mind. And at the same time, she’d also planted one for herself. In spite of avoiding hope her entire life—because hope usually led to disappointment—she found herself enthralled by the possibilities.

Armando got up and walked to the door. He paused with his hand on the door knob. “Perhaps we can discuss this further when you and Desmond return from bridging ST5.” He turned and leveled his gaze at her. “You are going to return, are you not?”

“I haven’t found a world that can beat me yet.”

He opened the door and stepped out. “That’s the spirit, kiddo.”

5

Bio-probe

September 1 - 10:39 PM

Desmond stared at Infinity, who was sitting across from him in the grass on the training lawn behind the SafeTrek building. “You think he’s seriously considering it?”

She nodded, her features illuminated by the green glow of an immense aurora borealis in the night sky above. “I could see it in his eyes.”

Desmond struggled to digest this news. He had wanted his mom to believe he and Infinity would become part of a refugee colony, but he hadn’t actually thought it would happen. The possibility was exhilarating. And gut-wrenching. “What about Colony ST7, or ST8?”

“You and I can’t do it all. We can’t keep bridging over and over at this pace. It will kill us both. Armando’s going to recruit some new bridgers. Besides, do you really think there’s going to be an ST7 or ST8?” She glanced up at the brightly-lit night sky.

Desmond gazed up at the aurora. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen, even in photos. Green streaks of light shimmered from horizon to horizon, so rich in various hues that they were beyond beautiful—they were downright terrifying. As if affirming his fears, the ground began trembling. The horizon to the east suddenly glowed orange. The orange grew in intensity and then quickly faded, followed seconds later by a low boom that echoed through the surrounding hills and off the backside of the SafeTrek building. Something massive must have exploded.

Infinity was right. The SafeTrek facility had proven itself to be strong, but it wasn’t indestructible. At any time there could be an earthquake strong enough to destroy it. Four of the six other bridging facilities had already failed. The building might not even last long enough to bridge out all of Colony ST5. Not to mention ST6 or beyond.

A thought occurred to him. “What happens if the bridging device is destroyed while we’re still on the excursion helping ST5?”

She shrugged. “No one knows. It’s kind of a bridgers’ myth that you would die when the thirty-six hours is up. But most likely, we simply wouldn’t bridge back.”

A much darker thought occurred to him. “So we don’t really know if these colonies of refugees even continue living after the thirty-six hours. They may all die the moment we bridge back.”

“That has occurred to me,” she said. “But it would mean we’re doing all this for nothing. So shut the hell up.”

He looked at her, but she was staring up at the green sky without expression.

“Fair enough,” he said.

She scooted over between his legs and leaned back against his chest. Still staring up at the sky, she sighed. Desmond hoped it was a sigh of contentment, but something about it suggested sadness.

After several minutes, Desmond glanced at his phone. “The bio-probe will return in ten minutes. I guess we should go inside.”

“Didn’t you just agree to shut the hell up?”

* * *

10:57 PM

The moment they walked into the bridging chamber viewing room, Desmond knew the conversation wasn’t going to be pleasant. Because Reece Eagleton was there. Infinity hated the man. Desmond found him unpleasant but knew he was just doing his job. Armando Doyle was also there, as well as the reps for Colony ST5, Andrea and Gavin. Surely their presence would help keep the peace.

Celia’s voice sounded over the comm system, “Three minutes.”

“We were beginning to wonder if you intended to join us,” Eagleton said to Desmond and Infinity.

Infinity surprised Desmond by ignoring Eagleton and turning to watch through the window of the bridging chamber.

Desmond decided he would take up the slack. “The only reason we’re here is to learn at least a little about what we’re getting into next. We assume you’re going to insist we bridge the colony regardless of the results of the bio-probe.”

“Well, you’re half right,” Eagleton replied. “If the test animals come back dead, with telltale signs of an inhospitable environment, we’ll scrap that world as a possibility. But we’ll still begin bridging out Colony ST5 at midnight.”

This was too much for Infinity. “It’s bad enough you’ve already eliminated the assessment excursions—you intend to bridge 718 refugees without even doing a bio-probe?”

“Bio-probes take thirty-six hours,” Eagleton said. “It’s a luxury we can no longer afford. This will be the last bio-probe we conduct.”

Desmond tried to swallow but found it difficult. Instead, he cleared his throat and started talking. “Mr. Eagleton, I assume you’re aware the Bridging Center Code of Operation was created by the combined intellectual efforts of ethics and human rights experts from fourteen countries. The Code of Operation was signed by the leaders of all fourteen countries, including President Millwright. Section 39, devoted to ethically responsible risk avoidance, states, ‘Due to inherent uncertainties regarding physical, geologic, climatic, and biological parameters, no human excursion will be allowed without adequate measures assuring a reasonably safe and habitable destination—e.g., a bio-probe meeting or exceeding guidelines as detailed in Section 14.”

Eagleton furrowed his brows at Desmond.

“Uh, Desmond has a rather unique, photographic memory,” Doyle offered as explanation. “And he does make a good point.”

“Photographic memory is a myth,” Desmond said, not sure why he was even bothering to explain, considering the bombshell announcement Eagleton had just dropped on them. “I happen to be good at committing certain things to memory.”

“Regardless,” Eagleton said, “the Code of Operation became null and void the moment we learned the human race was going extinct.”

“One minute,” announced Celia.

Desmond turned to Infinity, and she met his gaze. This seemed like madness—bridging a colony without a bio-probe or assessment excursion. If they survived this excursion with colony ST5, the next excursion would be to a completely untested world where they intended to live out the rest of their lives.

The uncertainty and finality of it was terrifying. So they both silently turned to the bridging room and waited.

Suddenly the plexiglass window bulged out briefly. Twelve test animals appeared in the center of the bridging chamber, dropped to the floor, and scattered in panic. They were all alive. The airlock door opened and white-clad techs with various probes rushed in to capture the animals and take measurements.

Desmond scanned the panicked creatures, looking for injuries or other signs of a harsh environment. He noticed nothing unusual. But then his eyes fell upon one of the medium-sized creatures. It was hunkered against the stark white wall, and two of the techs were standing there staring at it through their bio-suit faceplates. The creature was about the size of one of the cats, or perhaps one of the rabbits. But it wasn’t a cat or a rabbit.

Armando Doyle pressed the button to turn on the comm system. “Report please. What is that thing?”

The two techs nearest the creature turned and surveyed the chamber, presumably counting the other animals. Finally, one of them said, “No idea, sir. But we’re missing one of the cats.”

“Then it has to be the missing cat,” Doyle said, impatience in his voice. “It’s impossible for it to be anything else.”

One of the techs reached for the animal and picked it up. The creature struggled and let out a warbling shriek that sounded like no animal Desmond had ever heard. The tech approached the viewing room window, holding the creature at arm’s length. “See for yourself, sir.”

Desmond and the others stepped closer to the plexiglass. The creature was definitely not the missing cat. Its skin color was somewhere between green and aqua blue, and it had a gray belly. It was hairless, of course—the bridging process guaranteed that. But the pattern of pale stripes on its back made Desmond think it must have been naturally hairless. A long, prehensile tail had coiled around the tech’s arm. The creature had six long legs, one pair attached at the back hips and two pairs closer to the shoulders. At the end of each leg was a hand with four long, slender fingers. The animal’s head, about the size of a cat’s, was as round as a tennis ball, and two small, black eyes glanced back and forth, looking warily around the room. It shrieked again, and for an instant Desmond thought the thing was actually trying to talk.

“What in the name of God?” muttered Andrea.

“That’s impossible,” Doyle said. “The only thing that can bridge back is the body tissue of the cat.”

“It’s clearly not a cat,” Desmond said.

“But it has to be,” Doyle insisted. “How….”

Infinity turned from the viewing window. “Am I the only one here who sees the more disturbing question? How can a version of Earth that diverged only 150 years ago have a creature that looks like that thing?”

The room was silent for several long seconds.

The tech on the other side of the window said, “Sir, what would you like me to to do with this thing? It’s trying to chew through my glove.” The creature was growling and grunting as it chewed. Its long tail released the tech’s arm, whipped about in the air for a moment, and then wrapped around the tech’s other arm.

“I have no idea,” Doyle said, shaking his head. “I guess take it to the quarantine lab. Keep it alive, if you can. We’ll figure out what it is later.” As the tech headed for the airlock, Doyle muttered, “It has to be the cat’s body tissue. Nothing else is possible.” He turned to face Infinity and Desmond. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

Gavin cleared his throat. “I certainly don’t understand either, but we’re scheduled to bridge our first group in less than an hour. We chose a world with a divergence of only a 150 years because we have no intention of roughing it in the wilderness. We intend to negotiate with the human occupants of the world so that we can become a useful part of their society. If this creature really is the same one that departed here thirty-six hours ago, as you say it must be, then that convinces me the people of our destination world have some kind of advanced biological technology. An advanced society is exactly what we are looking for. Mr. Eagleton here tells us that we can bridge either to the world you just bio-probed or to another randomly-selected world. Personally, I prefer to stick with this world.”

Andrea said, “I suppose I agree, considering the two choices we’ve been given.” She turned to Doyle. “I have no idea what that creature was, but I suppose Gavin could be correct—it may indicate a technologically-advanced destination world. Not only that, but I’ve felt two tremors in the last hour. I agree that the urgency of our situation precludes doing another bio-probe. And so I also agree with Gavin that our best chances are with the world we’ve already probed.”

Before anyone else could speak up, Eagleton clapped his hands once and said, “That settles it then. Mr. Pushing and Ms. Van Loon, prepare your people. Mr. Doyle, prepare the bridging device.” He then turned to Desmond and Infinity. “Bridgers, shall I assume you’re on board?”

Desmond met Infinity’s gaze. She shook her head slightly, obviously as confused as Desmond and Doyle were about what they’d just seen. She turned to Eagleton. “Do we have a choice?”

“Of course,” Eagleton replied. “You can choose to resign your responsibilities. In which case I’ll have you both escorted off SafeTrek property.”

“Then I guess we’re on board,” Infinity said.

* * *

11:51 PM

The first eighteen members of Colony ST5 filed silently through the airlock into the bridging chamber. They gathered around Desmond and Infinity as if they thought they’d be safer just being close to the two bridgers. Doyle’s assistant, Celia, followed them in, carrying an armload of clear plastic bags for their clothing.

“As you’ve been told,” Celia said to the refugees, “your clothing and hair will be stripped away during the bridging process. If you wish to remove your clothes now, place them in one of these bags.” She held the bags out, but not a single refugee took one.

“We’re not coming back,” a woman said. “So it doesn’t matter what happens to my clothes. I prefer to retain my dignity.”

The other refugees nodded in agreement. Desmond felt a twinge of the angst these people must have been feeling. They were leaving their world forever, without knowing what awaited them. On the other hand, he and Infinity had taken their doses of technetium-99m, the radioisotope tissue marker that would allow the bridging device to pull them back to their own version of Earth after thirty-six hours. This was a one-way trip for the refugees.

Desmond and Infinity glanced at one another, and then they both removed their clothes and placed them into bags. They handed the bags to Celia.

“We’ll do the last-minute instructions, Celia, if you don’t mind,” Infinity said. “Please record the next five minutes and play the audio back to each group following us.”

Celia nodded. “Understood.” She went to the airlock and then turned back to face them. “Good luck to all of you. In the bridging world, we use the term “neverland” to describe a beautiful and hospitable destination world. May your new home be a neverland.” She then stepped through the airlock and closed the hatch.

Desmond scanned the refugees’ faces. The eyes of at least half of them were glazed over and bloodshot. They had obviously drugged themselves up, even though they’d been told specifically not to. This group was clearly a different mix of people than the last colony he and Infinity had bridged. Most of the people here appeared to be within ten years of the upper age limit of sixty. And according to Andrea and Gavin, all 718 members of ST5 were people of influence. Some of them were obviously pushing the upper weight limit, and most were in questionable physical condition. Apparently the selection process was relatively relaxed when it came to the wealthy.

“You have chosen a divergence of only 150 years,” Infinity said. “So it’s likely you’ll get what you want—a world very similar to ours, with a society that is also similar to ours. But keep in mind that the SafeTrek facility is positioned in a fairly remote region of Missouri. It was built here intentionally, to allow research of alternate evolutionary timelines. So even if your new world is almost identical to ours, we’ll likely find ourselves far from the nearest town. We will almost certainly be in a forest like the one surrounding SafeTrek. How many of you have been naked in a Missouri forest at midnight?”

After several seconds of waiting, nobody had raised a hand.

“Well, it can suck,” she said. “Ticks, chiggers, and mosquitoes. And if you start wandering around in the dark, you could fall into a ravine. The plan is simple. We bridge in, we move to the side of the bridge-in site to make room for later groups, and we wait. The next group will arrive an hour later, and the next an hour after that. You will sit together on the ground and wait. If it’s cold, huddle up. Sunrise will be at 6:40 AM. By that time, we’ll have almost 150 people waiting. Once the sun comes up, we can assess our surroundings.”

Gavin spoke up. “Actually, if there is evidence of a farm or town nearby, we’d prefer to approach them immediately. We’ll explain what’s happening and convince them to call the authorities and have buses or whatever type of transportation they have available come and pick us up. We are going on the assumption that people will accept us and provide us with clothing and shelter.”

Infinity frowned and shot a glance at Desmond.

“Gavin,” Desmond interjected before Infinity lost her temper. “There are more things wrong with that assumption than we have time to discuss. Keep in mind we’ll be bridging in at midnight. You can’t—”

“Damn right, you can’t,” Infinity said. “I don’t care who you are or what you think is happening here, but for the first thirty-six hours, until your entire colony has bridged in, and Desmond and I are gone, you’ll follow every goddamn order we give you.”

“Three minutes,” Celia said over the comm system.

All eighteen refugees were staring at Infinity, some of them nodding in compliance, some glaring as if she had no right to speak to them that way. A few stared with drugged grins, unaware of or indifferent to what was happening.

“We’re here to help you survive the first thirty-six hours,” Desmond said. “We’ve only bridged one colony before this, but none of those colonists would have survived without Infinity’s leadership.”

“We heard at least two hundred of those colonists died before you even bridged back,” one of the men said.

Again, Desmond exchanged a glance with Infinity. She just shook her head.

“All 718 would have died without Infinity,” Desmond said. “Look, we hope this world is exactly what you want it to be. But you have to follow our instructions and allow us to do our job.”

Infinity stepped forward. “Have we made ourselves clear?” With her brows raised, she waited several long seconds before continuing. “When we bridge, you’re going to drop several inches to the ground, so hold your legs apart, bend your knees slightly, and put your arms out for balance, like this.” She demonstrated. “Everybody give it a try.”

The refugees followed her lead, spacing themselves out for room.

“One minute,” Celia announced.

Desmond said, “We’ve found that with groups this big, people usually become disoriented and fall to the ground. And it doesn’t help that you’ll feel like you need to throw up for a minute or two after bridging. When the nausea passes, calmly get to your feet and help each other up.”

“Thirty seconds.”

“It’s going to be dark,” Infinity said. “The moon is only half full tonight here, and it will be the same there. If we’re in a forest, or if it’s a cloudy night, it could be pitch black. Don’t panic. Stay quiet and listen for my voice or Desmond’s.”

“Ten seconds.”

Infinity pointed at their feet. “Get your legs apart and be ready to drop. It won’t hurt. You’re going to be fine.”

Desmond held his arms out to facilitate the bridging device’s scan of his body. There was a wet, prickling sensation on his skin, and the bridging chamber disappeared.

6

Quandary

September 2 - 12:01 AM

The bridging chamber’s harsh light was replaced by blackness. Infinity’s feet dropped only a fraction of an inch before finding solid ground. She tried to hold steady, to let her eyes adjust so she could study her surroundings, but the refugees became a floundering, retching pile of arms and legs. She quickly got her nausea under control and disentangled herself from the group. Their stomachs would be relatively empty after bridging, but on occasion she had seen a surprising amount of fluid expelled by tourists.

While backing up, she bumped into a kneeling figure and almost tripped over it. She grabbed the figure by one arm and pulled the person to their feet. “Desmond, is that you?” Her voice was almost drowned out by the confused cries of the refugees.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he said. She felt his hands grip both her shoulders. “Can’t see a thing, though.”

Infinity looked up and was able to see several stars. She shifted her head from side to side. The stars disappeared, but a few others came into view—they were below a forest canopy. The moon wasn’t visible, either below the horizon or obscured by clouds.

“Colonists, listen to my voice,” she said.

The group became only slightly quieter.

“Your nausea will pass. As soon as it does, calmly get to your feet.”

A man’s voice rose above the others. “You said this wouldn’t hurt! I think I’ve skinned my knee on a rock.”

Infinity gritted her teeth and took a breath. “We’ll assess your injuries once you’ve quieted down and moved to the side of the bridge-in site. Can all of you hear my voice?”

The group finally became relatively quiet. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced,” a woman complained. “Now I’ve got dirt in places dirt should never be.”

Infinity felt Desmond’s hand on her shoulder. “Infinity, there’s a light. To your right, maybe a hundred yards out.”

Infinity turned and stared. He was right. A faint glow, mostly blocked by trees. “It may be a cabin or farm house,” she said.

“We should go there,” a woman said. “If their lights are on, they may be awake. Surely they’ll take us in.”

“I agree,” said the scraped-knee voice. “I already feel things crawling on my skin.”

“Quiet!” Infinity ordered. She stared at the glowing light. It had an odd purplish hue, and it seemed to flicker or throb, as if things were moving in front of it. Maybe it was the breeze blowing tree limbs back and forth. But she could detect no breeze against her skin.

“No one goes near that light until Desmond and I have checked it out,” she said. “I want all of you on your feet, but don’t move from where you’re standing yet. Desmond, make sure there’s a safe, open area for them to move to.” She listened as he felt his way to a space to the right side of the group, his feet shuffling through sticks and dead leaves.

After a minute or so, his voice penetrated the darkness. “This area is okay. Link your hands together and move toward my voice until you’re sure you’re clear of the bridge-in site.

They began shuffling toward him. As they moved into place, Infinity told them to sit. Several of them said they weren’t comfortable sitting on the ground. That was fine. They could spend the next six hours standing there for all Infinity cared, as long as they didn’t wander off. Infinity had them get into groups of three. She instructed them to know where their two partners were at all times, including when one of them had to step away to take a leak.

Infinity looked again toward the distant light. It still wavered like it was moving, or like something in front of it was moving.

She sensed Desmond stepping up beside her shoulder.

“Should we go ahead and check it out?” he asked.

Her eyes were starting to adjust, and now she could see his outline inches from her face. “Maybe we should,” she replied. “There’s something weird about that light. It’s going to bother me until we at least know what it is.” She spoke to the refugees. “We’ll be back in a few minutes. You are all under strict orders to stay here. Anyone who leaves this spot will answer to me.”

Infinity and Desmond left the group and carefully picked their way through the darkness toward the violet light. She led the way, and he followed behind with a hand on her shoulder to avoid getting separated. She held her arms in front of her face, clearing away spiderwebs and pushing aside vegetation.

Gradually they closed in on the light. But the closer they got, the more Infinity’s apprehension grew. The light definitely wasn’t from a farmhouse window. It was much larger than that. And as they drew closer, the wavering brightness became more pronounced.

At about twenty-five yards, she and Desmond stopped and stared. Infinity remained silent because she could think of nothing coherent to say. The light was coming from within an oval-shaped structure. Or maybe it was the structure’s outer wall that was glowing—it was hard to tell. The thing resembled a huge plastic bubble, maybe fifteen feet tall and sixty feet in diameter. And it was moving, the walls briefly expanding in certain places while contracting in others. This created a throbbing, life-like appearance. But the structure was far too large to be a living creature.

It was so large that several trees had been partially engulfed within it. Due to the bubble’s semi-transparent nature, the trunks of these trees were visible, their shapes distorted by the bubble’s glowing, pulsing surface.

“There’s something moving inside,” Desmond whispered in Infinity’s ear. He pointed.

She squinted at where he was pointing. At first she didn’t see anything but the fluid-looking interior of the bubble. But then she saw something move. The moving object was only slightly less transparent than the material around it, but it was definitely moving, shifting back and forth every few seconds. Not in a symmetrical, pulsating way. Rather, each of the movements was different from the last, as if the object were a living creature occasionally shifting its weight to find a comfortable position.

Infinity’s unease was now off the charts. She had bridged to countless alternate worlds, but she’d never seen anything like this. And what she was seeing made no sense. Until 150 years ago, this world had been identical to her own. What could possibly have happened in such a short time that could explain the existence of something like this? It was certainly possible that the people of this world could have taken technology in different directions, but this thing didn’t appear to be man-made. It was eerily biological.

“I don’t like this,” she whispered. “We have no idea what this is or what it can do.” She turned to Desmond, his face now illuminated by the violet glow. “Your thoughts?”

He shook his head. “I have no idea what to think. I say we leave it alone. Maybe after the sun comes up we’ll be able to learn more.”

Infinity nodded.

They silently pulled back and began making their way toward the bridge-in site. After traversing at least a hundred yards of dark forest, they stopped to listen for the eighteen refugees. Nothing. Reluctantly, Infinity called out to them as quietly as she could.

“We’re over here!” one of the refugees replied, speaking much louder than Infinity had.

She and Desmond had missed the bridge-in site by what sounded like thirty yards. They made their way to the group.

“Is it a farmhouse?” one of the refugees asked. It sounded like Gavin.

“Definitely not a farmhouse,” Desmond said quietly. “To be honest, we have no idea what it is. And until we do, we’ve decided to keep our distance.”

“What do you mean you don’t know what it is?” Gavin asked.

Infinity took a deep breath, but Desmond replied first. “Remember when we asked you to let us do our jobs? This is where you do that.”

“You speak, but why?”

The entire group became silent. The voice had come from the side, beyond the refugees, and it’d had a strange, wavering quality to it. Infinity wasn’t sure if the voice had come from a man or a woman.

“Now you don’t speak,” the voice said. “And why?” Again the voice had a wavering quality, almost like someone was talking into a spinning fan.

“Who are you?” Infinity asked.

“You must know. Yet you do not. And why?” The voice had moved, as if the person were circling the group. Infinity could see the figure’s dark outline, and she caught a whiff of an odd smell coming from the same direction. But not the smell of body odor—more like greasy rags from the floor of a garage, perhaps mixed with garlic.

Desmond spoke up. “We’re new here. We just arrived. So we can’t possibly know who you are. We’d like to be friends. We are peaceful people, and we have no intention of hurting you.”

“I reckon that’s good. But good only for you.” The voice had now circled to the side opposite of where it had started, and the smell had become stronger. “You are speaking. But what is the explanation?”

Fortunately, the refugees were remaining silent. The last thing Infinity wanted now was more confusion in this conversation. She asked the moving figure, “Do you have a light? We’d like to see who you are.”

“You want light. And you speak. I reckon you’re new here, yes. But how new? And from where?”

Infinity heard Desmond sigh, likely as puzzled as she was.

“It would take some time to explain where we came from,” Desmond said. “We’ll explain it all later. For now we just want you to know that we would like to be friends, and that more of us will be here soon. Hundreds of us.”

The dark figure had been crunching sticks and leaves as it paced around them, but now the crunching stopped. “Hundreds of you coming. You will explain later. But I’ve a notion to ask my questions now.”

“Thirty-six hours from now, there will be 720 of us here, in this spot,” Desmond said. “We are peaceful people, and we just want you and your people to allow us to enter your society. We have skills that will be useful to you.”

“You are peaceful. You have skills. Seven hundred and twenty of you. This is a quandary, you see. But a quandary only for you. If I were you, I would return whence you came.”

“This is ridiculous,” exclaimed Gavin. “You’re not making any sense. Perhaps you could take us to someone who could help us. Is there a town nearby? Can you take us to the nearest city?”

The figure began pacing again. “Many of you speak. Perhaps all of you speak. Your quandary thickens. I fear you are in peril.”

Infinity interjected, “You’re saying we’re in danger? Danger from what?”

The figure didn’t reply for several long seconds, during which a movement in the distance caught Infinity’s eye. No, not a movement so much as a brightening of the violet light.

“Many of you speak,” the figure beside them said. “Like a pack of coyotes. Now your quandary becomes peril. Danger, as you have said. But danger only for you. Or perhaps no danger. The mongrels will decide, as they are now coming.”

The violet light grew in intensity. Now Infinity could see the shapes of the refugees sitting on the ground before her. She looked at the stranger, who was gradually becoming visible.

“What is that thing?” a woman said. “It’s beautiful!”

Infinity turned back to the glowing object. The violet bubble was moving toward them. She watched as the thing engulfed several trees, passing around them like a massive amoeba. Second by second, it drew nearer, and soon Infinity could hear dry leaves crunching under its weight. A few of the refugees cursed and got to their feet.

“Everyone get up!” Infinity ordered.

As she was about to order the refugees to run, the thing stopped, its leading edge no more than ten feet away. Three translucent figures were moving inside the bubble, just on the other side of the membrane-like wall. Infinity couldn’t make out their specific shape, but they were definitely alive, their movements animal-like. Machines simply didn’t move like that.

“The mongrels observe. They wonder why you speak. Great peril.”

“Infinity, you need to see this,” Desmond said.

Reluctantly, she turned away from the glowing bubble to face the almost-forgotten stranger who had been speaking to them.

The stranger was now illuminated by the bubble’s shimmering light. “Great peril,” it said again. It had a long tail that was curled around the trunk of a nearby tree. It was crouching on two thin legs. A pair of arms extended from its shoulders, with a second, nearly-identical pair just below the first. It casually lifted one of its lower arms and scratched the top of its rounded head, contemplating the group of humans. The violet light of the glowing bubble made it hard to tell the creature’s color, but Infinity was willing to bet its belly was gray and its back and limbs were somewhere between green and aqua blue. The thing was a larger, human-sized version of the creature that had returned with the bio-probe.

“Your quandary has become a grave predicament,” the creature said. “But only for you.”

7

Conversation

September 2 - 12:44 AM

Desmond stared at the creature, struggling to make sense of its appearance and its presence here. And the fact that it was talking. In English.

The refugees were all on their feet now, and most of them had moved behind Desmond and Infinity for protection.

Infinity spoke to it again. “How can we avoid danger? We don’t want trouble.”

The creature released its grip on the tree beside it, its tail sliding over the bark’s surface like a snake. The creature then moved toward Desmond and Infinity, walking smoothly on its spindly back legs and lower pair of forelimbs, which Desmond now saw were longer than the upper pair of arms. The creature’s hands and fingers were surprisingly long, making up at least a third of each limb.

Out of the corner of Desmond’s eye, he saw Infinity crouch into a fighting stance as the figure came closer. The creature noticed this and paused, appraising her. It raised its upper right hand slightly, revealing that it was holding something. The object, apparently a weapon, was about fifteen inches long with a narrow handle gripped by the creature’s delicate fingers. Desmond looked closer at the object’s larger end, and his gut tightened. He’d been wrong. The thing wasn’t an object—it was a living creature. Pairs of jointed legs protruded from its sides, perhaps eight pairs in total, each leg tipped with a single needle-sharp claw. Inch-long mandibles gnashed the air at the weapon’s distal end. The object—or creature—looked very much like the head and first sixteen legs of a massive centipede. The bottom six inches appeared to be nothing more than a handle. The strange purple glow that now illuminated the area certainly didn’t do anything to make the weapon seem less sinister.

The creature crept forward and stopped only a few feet before them. It reeked of a strange chemical smell, like it had been dipped in tar or oil. It dropped to a sitting position and coiled its tail around its base, stabilizing itself. Its face was now about three feet above the ground. It gazed up at them with round, black eyes. Every few seconds it blinked, first one eye and then the other, as if the two eyes were independent of each other.

Desmond noticed that the centipede object’s legs were now twitching. He pointed to it. “Is that a weapon? If so, you won’t need it. We don’t want any trouble.”

The creature stared at them for several more seconds, still blinking. “You don’t want trouble. But you speak. Such contradiction. Such disparity.” The creature then looked up at the glowing purple bubble looming nearby. “The mongrels become curious. This is good. But perhaps only for you. Perhaps they will only observe. But I reckon with the morning’s light will come trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” Infinity asked.

The creature turned its head slightly to gaze at her. “You come to the bailiwick of another herd, and you know nothing of the vexation you provoke. Curious, indeed. With the morning’s light will come the herd. They’ll come to feed. They’ll discover you in their bailiwick. Trouble will follow, as the herd don’t take kindly to trespassers.”

Desmond shook his head, frustrated. He didn’t understand most of what the creature was saying, although nearly all of it sounded like bad news. He turned to check on the refugees. They were standing to the side, gaping either at the immense purple bubble or at the six-armed creature holding a centipede weapon.

Desmond turned back to the pungent creature. “Can you explain what you are, exactly? We came here expecting to find humans, like us. You are definitely not human.”

It scratched its head with the back of the hand that held the centipede weapon, being careful to avoid contact with the pointed claws and fangs. “You come to find other humans. But other humans will find you, when the herd comes to feed.”

“You’re saying the herd is actually a group of humans?”

“Humans, yes.”

Desmond exchanged a glance with Infinity. She was frowning. “So, what are you then?” she asked the creature.

“My ancestors came with the mongrels. I ain’t indigenous here.”

No shit it wasn’t indigenous, especially on a world with a divergence of only 150 years. Desmond pointed to one of the translucent figures on the other side of the bubble’s outer membrane. “Are those the mongrels?”

“Mongrels, yes. You seem to have confounded them a bit. I reckon that’s why you are still you.”

“How did you and the mongrels get here?” Desmond asked.

The creature paused as if thinking. “I have a suspicion that you—”

Confused cries suddenly filled the air. The twenty refugees of group two had arrived, tumbling over each other with even less grace than the first group.

Infinity went to the new arrivals to assist them, but Desmond turned to the three semitransparent figures within the purple bubble—the mongrels—to see how they would respond. The mongrels had moved together to a spot that was closer to the bridge-in site. In fact, the bubble’s wall in that spot was visibly expanding, bulging outward, presumably allowing the mongrels to observe more easily.

Infinity continued helping the new arrivals get over their nausea and onto their feet.

“Hundreds of you will be coming, you say.”

Startled, Desmond realized the six-armed creature was now standing right beside him, watching the new refugees. The creature’s smell was now overpowering. “Yes. Seven hundred twenty of us.”

“And this is how your herd will arrive?”

Desmond turned to look at the creature. “Yes. We call it bridging.”

“Bridging,” the creature said, pronouncing the word slowly. “My goodness. My goodness gracious.”

In spite of its strange voice, appearance, and smell, Desmond had to remind himself that he was having a conversation with a creature that wasn’t even close to being human. Abruptly, something clicked in his mind. “Are you familiar with bridging? Is that how you got here?”

The creature was still staring at the new arrivals, most of whom were now staring back at it or staring at the glowing purple blob. “It is not. But as you surely must know, the mongrels came hither in this way. And they brung my ancestors with them.”

How was this possible? The revelation was staggering, although Desmond doubted it would help the colony survive. He turned to see whether Infinity had heard the creature’s words, but she was still busy moving the new refugees away from the bridge-in site.

“The mongrels were curious before,” the creature said. “But now your growing herd has seized their utmost attention and consternation.”

Desmond waited for the creature to say more, but it just stared at the frightened refugees. “Is that a good thing?” he asked. “That we’ve captured their attention, I mean.”

The creature hesitated and looked at Desmond. It thrust out the centipede weapon into the purple light cast by the mongrel’s bubble. Desmond involuntarily stepped back. The object, with its twitching, needle-like claws and fangs, was possibly the most frightening thing he’d ever seen.

“You inquired as to its purpose. Is it a weapon, you asked. I reckon it is and it ain’t. But even when it ain’t, it is. The humans of my bailiwick call it a venomcrook. It’s a living critter, thus to be tamed and controlled. Under my will, the venomcrook metes out pain you could scarcely comprehend. Or, if circumstances require, it can administer rapture—a pleasure so mighty that you’ll forever align your allegiances with mine in pursuit of more rapture.” The creature paused as if letting this sink in. “The mongrels made my venomcrook, and its power is akin to theirs. They may enrapture you, or they may bring you to naught. Either way is good, but not for you—only for the mongrels.”

Desmond turned to gaze at the three nearly-invisible figures behind the membrane. Whatever the mongrels were, they’d be nearly impossible to spot within the luminescent fluid if they weren’t constantly shifting their positions. He took a step closer to the bubble’s membrane. In response, the figures shifted again, turning and moving slightly toward him.

Although Desmond couldn’t discern the details of the mongrels’ shapes or structures, he couldn’t help but feel that they were staring back at him.

8

Weapons

September 2 - 1:22 AM

Staring at Desmond, Infinity’s mind reeled from the enormity of what he’d just told her. She should have seen it coming. She should have known immediately that these things hadn’t originated from Earth. But then, if they had bridged here, they would have originated from Earth—just not this version of Earth. But she had never seen anything remotely like these creatures in any of the versions of Earth she had visited. Goddammit. She shook her head and tried to focus.

“They bridged here?” she asked.

Desmond nodded. “Probably some time in the last 150 years.”

“One hundred two years heretofore, I am told,” the stinking, six-armed creature said. “The year of 1927.”

Infinity stared at the creature. It looked like something that should be climbing trees in the jungle and eating fruits, not sitting around talking with words like heretofore. She had too many questions and no idea what to ask first. She turned to scrutinize the thirty-eight colonists, who were huddled together, strangely illuminated by the violet glow of the looming bubble. They had become surprisingly quiet, although many were reflexively touching their now-bald scalps, as most first-time bridgers felt inclined to do. They were solemn, likely beginning to realize that their well-laid plans for an easy transition into an existing civilization were falling apart.

She decided to focus on what she knew best. She turned back to the creature. “You said humans would come here in the morning, and they’d be angry we’re in their territory. We’re happy to leave their territory, but we have to stay here until all the members of our group have arrived. Will we be safe, or do we need to prepare to defend ourselves?”

The creature spread its two lower hands like it was showing they were empty. “You wish to protect your herd from harm. Yes, of course. There will be a dispute. Perhaps a squabble. Perhaps even a fracas. One, or the other, or the other. This will be good, but not for you. Only for the mongrels, for they are ardent watchers of such strife.”

Infinity shook her head. “What the hell does that mean? Will we need to defend ourselves or not?”

The creature spread its lower hands again. “It is likely.”

“I assume our attackers will be well-armed?”

The creature tilted its head to the side. “I do not understand well-armed.”

“Well-armed, as in guns. Firearms. Rifles or pistols. Weapons.”

It hesitated a moment. “You have come to this land ignorant of its history. No such contrivances are to be found here.”

Infinity exchanged a glance with Desmond. He turned to the creature and said, “This world was identical to ours until 150 years ago. There were certainly firearms here then.”

“Yes, I have heard tales of such weapons. Generations before my time. They ain’t to be found here now. Mongrels don’t allow such contrivances. They prefer to watch indigenous critters in their primitive state.”

Infinity shook her head again, still struggling to understand the creature’s responses. But one thing was clear—a group of combative humans was likely to appear in the morning, and they wouldn’t be armed with guns. This scenario was something she could understand and prepare for. She turned to Desmond. “We’ll need to make some weapons, maybe some stabbing tools and spears.” She nodded toward the creature. “If this thing is telling the truth, we need to be prepared.”

“I prefer not to be called a thing,” the creature said.

Infinity stared at it. “So what’s your name?”

It hesitated. “Some humans call me Abel. It’s the name I prefer. Others call me a musk monkey. That one may be derogatory, but I don’t much give a care.”

In spite of the obviously dire circumstances, Infinity almost smiled. Musk monkey? It was a fitting name. “We’ll call you Abel, then,” she said.

“I’m Desmond,” Desmond said. “And this is Infinity.”

“Pleased to meet you, Desmond and Infinity, but the pleasure, I fear, is only for me.”

Infinity was glad the musk monkey didn’t try to shake hands. “I have a question,” she said. “Thirty-eight hours ago, we sent a group of animals here. It’s what we call a bio-probe. To make sure the world is survivable. One of the animals came back in a different form, looking like a smaller version of you. Can you explain that?”

The musk monkey stared at her, its eyes blinking out of sync. Finally, it said, “Oh my goodness. My goodness gracious.”

“What?” Infinity and Desmond both said.

“Did you touch it? Did you touch the smaller musk monkey?”

“No,” Infinity said.

“Did others touch it? Other humans?”

Infinity glanced at Desmond, who was frowning. “Yes,” she said, “but with gloves on. So, no, not directly. It was put into a containment chamber.”

“My goodness gracious,” the creature repeated.

“What’s wrong?” Desmond asked. “Why do you want to know if we touched it?”

The creature finally got up off the ground and stood fully erect, about five feet tall. “Perhaps it don’t matter. The runt musk monkey must have been mongrel shenanigans. But perhaps they intended no ill will. Perhaps.”

Infinity and Desmond exchanged another glance. Even if the smaller creature was a danger to people back home, they wouldn’t be able to warn Armando until they bridged back. “But how was it even possible?” Infinity asked. “The bridging device can only bring back the animal it sent out, or the body tissue of that animal.”

The musk monkey let out a series of hiccuping sounds that sounded very much like forced laughter. “Yes, yes. Mongrel shenanigans. Mongrels take pleasure in fiddling around with the essence of living flora and fauna. They’re capable of such things. This is good, but only for them. You will take no pleasure in it.”

Infinity sighed. “Is there anything about this situation that’s good for us, not just for someone else?”

The musk monkey hiccupped again. “But of course. You’re still you. And you’re still alive. Come the morning’s light and the herd, however, a different story may be told.”

“How many are in the herd?” Infinity asked.

“Fifty will come to feed. Thereabouts.”

“You said they would not have firearms. What kinds of weapons will they have with them?”

“The mongrels don’t fancy human-made contrivances. They’ll have no weapons.”

No weapons? Infinity did some quick math in her head. By sunrise there would be almost 160 refugees here. Even though most of them were soft, unskilled lawyers and civic leaders, the odds would be in their favor. She turned to Desmond. “I’ll show the refugees how to make weapons. If there’s going to be trouble, we’ll be ready for it.” She started to step away.

“The mongrels don’t fancy human-made contrivances,” the musk monkey repeated. “You will not be allowed such weapons.”

She stopped and turned. Then she stepped closer to the musk monkey. The creature raised the clawed object it still held in one of its upper hands as if preparing to defend itself. She pointed at the thing. “That looks like a weapon to me. Why are you allowed to use one?”

The creature made a sound like it was clearing its throat. “The venomcrook is mine. I wield it in service of the mongrels. Assisting the mongrels is my purpose.”

Infinity glared into the musk monkey’s eyes. “My purpose is to protect these humans. Are you saying you’re going to use that venomcrook to stop me from doing that?”

The creature hesitated. So Infinity turned and headed for the refugees. As she walked away, she heard the musk monkey say, “I don’t reckon I’ll have to.”

* * *

3:12 AM

Only seventy-eight refugees had arrived, and Infinity had already grown weary from wrangling them and trying to explain the most relevant information to each new group. After the arrival of the most recent group, she had chosen a dozen seemingly-capable people to take charge of the task for the remaining thirty-two groups. If there was one thing these refugees excelled at, it was talking. Soon they would probably form a committee with several subcommittees to systemize the task. Which was fine with Infinity. Anything to keep them occupied.

“How’s it coming, Arty?” she asked as she approached the three weapons assembly lines she’d organized. Arty Heath was the guy Infinity had put in charge of weapons production. Mainly because he had volunteered. He also appeared to be fit and very sure of himself, despite now being naked.

“Getting close to fifteen of each,” he said. “Of course, once we use up the raw materials in the immediate area, we’ll have to start searching beyond the perimeter of available light.” He nodded toward the giant bubble emanating violet light.

Four refugees were collecting straight saplings or limbs, four were busy breaking them down to about five feet long and stripping away the lateral branches, and four were sharpening the tips against several large rocks Desmond had found. Another team was working on weapons that were the same other than being only twelve inches long, to be wielded at close-quarters. A third group was making much longer, forked spears. These spears had two or three sharpened prongs at the end of an eight-foot shaft, and could be used to stop opponents from closing in for hand-to-hand combat. Of the seventy-eight refugees who had arrived so far, only seven of them had training in martial arts, wrestling, or any other type of fighting. If the people in the so-called herd had any skills at all, then close quarters fighting would need to be a last resort.

Of course, the goal was to avoid fighting altogether. The refugees—especially Gavin—had been reminding Infinity of this every couple of minutes, if not more often. Infinity knew that they needed to convince the locals to let them peacefully occupy this territory just long enough to gather the entire colony. She figured if anyone could do this, it would be this colony of refugees. They could probably talk a bear out of shitting in the woods. Infinity wasn’t opposed to diplomatic solutions, but if a fight was inescapable, she wasn’t going to be caught unprepared.

She turned and gazed at the massive glowing bubble. The entities within it—the mongrels—had moved away from the outer membrane and were apparently now somewhere deep within the fluid interior. She wondered whether their waning interest in the activities outside the bubble was good news or bad.

Desmond had been talking to the musk monkey for at least an hour, but now he stepped away from the creature and approached Infinity. “Okay, here’s what I know, or at least what I think I know. The mongrels bridged here over a hundred years ago. They brought Abel’s ancestors here with them, as slaves, or pets, or something like that.” He paused like he was thinking about this.

“I already know all that,” Infinity said. “Why are they here?”

He frowned slightly. “Well, that’s not clear yet. Abel answers some questions freely, but others—not so much. They’ve obviously been here longer than the standard thirty-six hour excursion, so assuming their bridging technology is the same as ours, they must have bridged without the radioisotope marker. Which means they came here to stay. Which in turn means they are probably refugees, like our colony.”

Infinity considered this. “You think they destroyed the version of Earth they came from in the same way we’ve destroyed ours?”

“Abel was elusive when it came to that question. But why else would they bridge here one way?”

Infinity looked up at the bubble. “I can think of possibilities. Maybe they ran out of room. Maybe they wanted a change of scenery.”

“Well, if they’re refugees, then we have something in common. That could be used to our advantage.”

She continued staring into the glowing bubble. “Maybe.”

“I learned a few other things,” he said. “There are more mongrels. A lot more. According to Abel, they’re all over this planet. They live in these big bubbles, and each bubble oversees the territory around it. Abel calls the territories bailiwicks.”

“Not very sociable, are they? Aside from socializing with those in their own bubble.”

Desmond nodded. “And in case you’re wondering, Abel learned to speak English from the local humans.”

“That explains a lot,” Infinity said.

“Here’s one thing Abel said over and over: the mongrels like to observe the flora and fauna. He even hinted that this was the reason they came here in the first place. They like watching the wildlife, especially in its natural state. Human-made contrivances aren’t allowed.”

She turned to him. “Yeah, I heard that part. What does ‘aren’t allowed’ mean?”

Desmond shook his head. “No idea. It’s just what he kept saying. He also said the herd of humans comes here every morning to feed. He said it like he was talking about birds coming to a feeder. To be honest, this place is starting to creep me out.”

Infinity looked back at the refugees. They were working busily on their tasks, obviously trying to hide their fear. She said, “What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?”

* * *

5:36 AM

The three piles of weapons had grown to over sixty weapons in each stack. And with sunrise about an hour away, it was time to prepare the refugees for the possibility of conflict. Infinity waited for the sapling-gatherers to return, and then she and Desmond called the colonists together. All 118 of them.

Infinity picked up one of the longer, three-pronged spears. She then moved within twenty feet of the glowing bubble to take advantage of its light. “Can all of you see me and hear me?”

Without answering, the colonists quieted themselves and shifted positions until they could see. They formed a semicircle facing the mongrels’ bubble, perhaps unwilling to have their backs to it or approach it more closely. Most of them were wide-eyed and tense, and Infinity felt a brief pang of pity for them. They were neither physically nor emotionally prepared for an attack. She shook the feeling away—shit happens. Now it was her and Desmond’s job to give them at least a fighting chance at survival.

“If you’re lucky,” she said loudly enough for them to hear, “you won’t have to use these weapons. But we’ve been told we’re trespassing on the land of some locals who may not appreciate us being here.”

“We’re here as refugees,” Gavin said. “It makes no sense that a group of people would attack us for simply showing up on their land, especially since it’s not our fault. I’m sure they’ll understand. Besides, if they really intend harm, they’ll bring guns. How are these primitive sticks going to—”

“We don’t have all the answers!” Desmond interrupted.

Good for him.

“But we’re going on the information we have,” he continued. “We’ve been told the locals won’t be armed.”

“Then why do we need these?” Gavin asked, nodding toward the weapons.

Desmond started to answer, but Infinity cut him off. “Let us do our goddamn job! We’re preparing you for the worst. After we’re gone, do whatever you want.” She glared at him until he looked down at the ground.

She held out the three-pronged spear. “If the locals become aggressive, you may have to defend yourselves. Unless you’re confident you’d be effective in a close-quarters fight, your goal is to stay out of reach of any attacker. Your gut reaction will be to run away. But if you do that and get lost alone and naked in these woods, it won’t end well for you. But with these weapons”—she thrust the spear forward—“you should be able to hold an unarmed attacker at bay. But keep the weapon moving.” She jabbed twice more, quickly pulling the spear back each time. “Don’t allow your attacker to grab it.”

“Please pardon my interruption,” said the warbling voice of Abel, the musk monkey. The creature came around from the side of the mongrel bubble, still holding the venomcrook in its upper right hand. Its two lower hands were cupped together, holding a glob of glowing violet gel. “I act in service of the mongrels,” it said. “The mongrels do not fancy human-made contrivances, particularly tools for conflict.” The creature stepped over to the pile of pronged spears and flung the blob of gel, splattering luminescent droplets all over the weapons.

The musk monkey then turned and walked on its now-empty lower hands and hind feet to the outer membrane of the mongrel’s bubble. The creature raised itself up again and thrust its lower hands into the bubble, extracting another glob of the gel. It ambled over to the pile of shorter stabbing spikes and splattered them with the gel.

“What are you doing?” Infinity demanded.

“I act in service of the mongrels,” the creature replied as it went for a third glob of gel.

“Infinity,” Desmond said.

She glanced at him and then followed his gaze to the pile of pronged spears. She blinked. The spears were moving. She stepped closer. No, they weren’t moving. They were melting—sagging and dripping into a dark mass of useless goo. She snapped her head to look at the pile of spikes. They, too, were beginning to melt.

“You come to this land and say you ain’t looking for trouble,” Abel said, carrying the third handful of goo toward the last pile. “Yet you speak, and you make tools for conflict. My goodness gracious, such contradiction.”

Infinity shook away her shock at what she was seeing and rushed at the musk monkey, blocking the creature’s path. At that moment, Gavin appeared beside her, apparently determined to help her stop Abel.

“We’ve spent hours making these!” Gavin shouted. “You have no right to do this.”

Infinity held out her pronged spear, forcing the musk monkey to stop.

Pffitt. The sound came from the direction of the looming violet bubble. Almost instantly something hit the spear in Infinity’s hands—she felt the impact resonate through the wooden shaft. She stared at the spear as it abruptly folded in half, separating in the middle as the pronged end dropped to the ground. The remaining portion began melting, sagging at the end, and she threw the shaft to the ground before the destruction reached her hands.

Gavin stepped forward and got in the musk monkey’s face. “We may be new here, but we have rights! Please back away from—”

The musk monkey flicked its upper right hand, lightly striking Gavin’s shoulder with the venomcrook.

Gavin slapped at his shoulder. “Ow!”

“Prepare yourself for rapture,” Abel said. “You’d be wise to lay yourself upon the ground.”

“What do you mean, rapture?” Gavin asked. But then he moaned and dropped to his knees. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed onto his face.

Abel sidestepped Gavin’s body, skirted around Infinity, and flung the glob of gel, splattering the last pile of spears.

Gavin moaned again, his face pressed into the dirt and leaves of the forest floor. He rolled to his side and moaned even louder, eyes still rolled back. He began convulsing and twitching as if having a seizure.

Infinity realized the other refugees were backing away, some of them gasping and cursing, but she focused her attention on Abel. As jarring as his attack on Gavin had been, she sensed that the real threat was the glowing bubble and the creatures within it. She took a step toward Abel, contemplating how best to kill the creature with her bare hands while avoiding the venomcrook. But she paused. The musk monkey was watching her warily. Its face was completely alien but somehow managed to look frightened and remorseful.

“Will he die?” she asked, nodding toward Gavin’s shuddering body.

“No,” the creature replied. “I have no hankering for killing. But the mongrels….”

For several long seconds, she faced off with the creature, staring into its eyes as it stared back at her. Was it trying to start a conflict or trying to prevent one?

Abruptly, Gavin’s moaning and shuddering stopped. Seconds later he sat up, tears streaming down his face. At first he seemed confused, but then he spotted the musk monkey staring down at him. “Please do it again,” Gavin said.

Abel took a step back. “The first dose has served its purpose. A second dose would be unwise.”

Gavin’s eyes widened. “Please, do it again!”

Abel took another step back. “I act only in service of the mongrels.”

Gavin got to his feet. “Please! Do it again!” He lunged toward the musk monkey, trying to grab the venomcrook.

The creature launched itself upward and grabbing the lowest branch of a tree, moving faster than Infinity had previously thought it could. It scrabbled about for a moment and ended up with its tail wrapped around a limb, hanging there out of reach, watching Gavin.

“Please!” Gavin begged. Now his voice sounded truly desperate.

Desmond approached Gavin and put a hand on his shoulder. “Get ahold of yourself. It said it would be unwise.”

Gavin wheeled around and shoved Desmond. “What the hell do you know?” Gavin then fixed his eyes on the huge glowing bubble. Ignoring everything else, he headed straight for it.

“Such brazen effrontery is unwise,” Abel said from the tree.

Gavin didn’t stop until he was inches from the membrane. “Hey, are you in there? Please, I need more. I’m begging you!”

Infinity saw movement within the bubble. Something barely visible moved closer to Gavin, flowing gently through the fluid. Infinity stepped up to Gavin, ready to put him in a chokehold if he turned on her. “Move away from it, Gavin.”

Gavin thrust out a hand without warning and pushed against the membrane. “Please! I’ll do anything. Do it again!”

“Gavin, stop!” Infinity took him by the neck and pulled, but he shook her off and pushed his arm through the membrane all the way to his elbow. Infinity saw his hand within the fluid grasping desperately at the ghostly creatures only a few feet beyond his fingers.

And then Gavin froze. “Yes! Thank you, yes!” He pulled his hand out and turned, a stupid, mindless grin on his face. But seconds later his grin faded. “This isn’t it,” he said. He raised his hand and stared at it. “This isn’t right. What is this?”

His arm was changing shape. His fingers shortened until his hand was no more than a stump.

“This isn’t right!” he screamed. “This isn’t right!” He lowered his stump and looked at Infinity. “Something’s happening!”

Infinity stared at him, instinctively keeping her distance.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but no sound came out. And then he crumpled to the ground, his limbs convulsing.

“What the hell?” Desmond said, but to Infinity his voice seemed distant, like it was coming from inside a tunnel.

She took another step back from Gavin. But it wasn’t actually Gavin anymore. His body was changing shape, curling up on itself. Bones cracked as his limbs bent in unnatural ways. As his body morphed, his pale skin became darker. Suddenly he began thrashing, making it hard to tell what was happening to him. Pieces of dirt and leaf debris flipped into the air, thrown by his wildly whipping extremities.

And then the thing was upright, standing on four legs. It blinked its bulging black eyes as it swung its head around. Panicked, it bolted. Everyone remained silent as it crashed through the brush. Its sounds gradually became quieter until it was too distant to hear.

“That was a deer,” Desmond said, barely above a whisper. “A white-tailed deer.”

“Such effrontery was most assuredly unwise,” the musk monkey said. It then released its grip with its tail and dropped gracefully to the ground. “Gavin’s new condition is good. But not for Gavin. You fine folks must be pleased that you are still you.”

9

The Herd

September 2 - 6:45 AM

The first rays of the rising sun pierced the late-summer foliage, illuminating clouds of water vapor hanging in the forest air. Desmond paced around the circular formation of sixty-one men and women who had volunteered to form a defensive perimeter surrounding the other seventy-six refugees and the bridge-in site. A few refugees had created rudimentary clothing by weaving together grasses and weeds, but most were still naked. Nobody in the group was armed because, apparently, the mongrels didn’t allow weapons.

Desmond had no idea how the mongrels had so quickly destroyed the weapons, or how they had transformed Gavin into a deer. Clearly these creatures had entire categories of technology humans hadn’t even dreamed of. Unfortunately, the mongrels’ abilities were not paired with a sense of compassion. Nobody had seen the deer that Gavin had become since it had run off. Desmond was pretty sure Gavin could now be considered dead. The mongrels were dangerous, and their presence here cast significant doubts on the human colony’s prospects for success. But he wasn’t about to share this thought with the refugees.

Desmond approached Arty Heath, who was circling the formation in the opposite direction. Arty had organized the thwarted efforts to build weapons, and he was now proving to be useful in calming and orienting the new refugees arriving hourly, as well as keeping them occupied with useful tasks, such as gathering plant fibers for making clothes. Arty had been a U.S. Army Ranger before going into politics and becoming a New York State Senator. He was a lean, muscled hulk several inches taller than Desmond, which helped him command respect from the other colonists.

Arty stopped beside Desmond. “Considering the circumstances, I think we’re reasonably prepared,” he said with confidence.

Desmond glanced over at Infinity. She was sitting cross-legged at the base of a tree, meditating or somehow sleeping. “According to Abel,” he said, “about fifty will show up here to feed. I have no idea what that really means, but if there are only fifty, and they’re unarmed, they’ll think twice about making trouble.”

Desmond scanned the area. Still no sign of Abel. The creature had disappeared into the forest soon after the incident with Gavin. Somehow, Abel’s absence was disconcerting to Desmond. Abel had served as a kind of liaison—a moderator, or even a buffer—between Desmond and the mongrels. Without Abel’s help, understanding the mongrels’ intentions seemed impossible.

Without a word of explanation, Arty grabbed Desmond’s elbow and led him away from the refugees. When they were out of earshot, he stopped and said, “These folks are scared shitless. Hell, I am too. I have to hope that once all our people are here, we can migrate away from this area, get far away from this fucking alien bubble and whoever is in this local herd. But as far as I can tell, there’s no civilization here. You’ve done this before. If I’m right—if there’s nothing here but wilderness in every direction—do you think we’ll have any chance in hell of surviving? The weather will start turning cold in a few months.” The man was still holding Desmond’s elbow, and he finally let go.

Desmond gazed at him, trying to formulate an honest answer. “I’ve done this before, but each time is different. This place is unlike any of the worlds I’ve seen. If there’s really nothing here but wilderness, it’s going to be tough. But there must be cities. The divergence point was only—”

“Desmond!”

He turned to Infinity. She was now on her feet, approaching him but staring into the forest behind him. He followed her gaze. At first he saw nothing but trees and shafts of morning sunlight, but then there was movement. He blinked and squinted. It was a woman, staring back through the haze. Her tan hair was cropped short, less than an inch long. Desmond would have mistaken her for a man if it weren’t for the fact that she was completely naked. Most of her body was painted with symmetrical orange and brown patterns. Only her face, hands, and feet were their original pale color.

Something moved to the woman’s left. Another woman, naked and painted with alternating stripes, like a tiger’s but green and black. Another movement—a bearded man, painted solid green from chin to feet.

More people—natives of this world—continued to appear, cautiously approaching the refugees. They were naked and painted with various colors and patterns, some with natural greens, oranges, and browns, others with bright reds and blues. The natives were fanning out to the left and right, surrounding the bridge-in site. If this was the herd, then Abel had been right—there were about fifty.

The solid green man paused and picked up a fist-sized rock—clearly a hostile gesture.

“What do you want us to do?” said one of the men in the defensive formation.

“Don’t do anything yet!” Infinity commanded. She was now standing at Desmond’s side.

The painted natives stopped. Every one of them looked toward the looming mongrel bubble, apparently expecting something to happen. Now that the sun was up, the bubble no longer appeared purple. Instead, it simply looked like a shimmering, house-sized soap bubble filled with colorless fluid. Desmond could no longer see the bubble’s occupants.

The green man took several steps closer to the refugees, holding his rock ready to throw. He was frowning. “You speak,” he whispered, barely loud enough for Desmond to hear.

Desmond stepped forward. “Of course we speak. We’ve been told that we are in your territory. We apologize. We would like to—”

The man suddenly hurled his rock at Desmond’s face. Desmond instinctively flinched to the side. The rock flew by his ear and struck something behind him with a solid thunk. Several refugees cried out, and Desmond whipped his head around to look. One of the men in the perimeter formation was sprawled on his back, holding both hands against his bleeding face.

Desmond snapped forward again in time to see Infinity charge forward. She raised a fist like she was going to punch the green man but then ducked and flew into his stomach, taking him to the ground. The man grunted and struggled, but she was already on top of him, one hand gripping his throat, the other pummeling his face in a blur of punches. By the time Desmond had scrambled to her side, she had struck the man several dozen times and was already back on her feet. The man groaned, beaten too senseless to even put his hands to his pulverized face.

Infinity addressed the crowd of natives, holding up her blood-stained fist for all to see. “This man hurt one of our people! So I’ve hurt him. If anyone else tries something like that, we’ll either hurt you or kill you. I want to make sure that’s very clear.”

The natives stared at her, some of them with wide eyes, others with murderous scowls. A few were searching the ground for more rocks.

The situation was about to escalate into a full-blown battle.

“Wait!” Desmond cried. “We don’t want trouble! We will leave your territory tomorrow at noon. That’s when the last of us will arrive. Once we’re all here, we’ll leave and go somewhere else. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

The painted people kept moving closer, one cautious step at a time, many of them now ready to throw the rocks they’d found.

“Why do you speak?” one of them hissed, keeping his voice low. This man had yellow limbs and a black torso.

“Return to the wild land!” another whispered.

Desmond shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean by that. We speak because we want you to know we are not looking for trouble. I don’t know what the wild land is. Can we please just talk about this? Please—we don’t want violence.”

The yellow and black man hesitated, glancing at several of the others. He then turned to the mongrel bubble before turning back to Desmond. He cupped his hand to the side of his mouth and whispered, “You took our food. You speak not a stone’s throw from the mongrels. You are fools, and we shan’t abide your trespass.”

Desmond realized the man was trying to conceal his voice from the mongrels. Perhaps these people worshipped the mongrels and didn’t speak in their presence out of respect? Desmond lowered his own voice. “We haven’t taken your food.” He waved his hand back toward the main mass of refugees. “We don’t have any food. We’ll be happy to leave the moment our last group arrives, at noon tomorrow.”

Cries of confusion suddenly filled the air. The yellow and black man widened his eyes and stepped back. “What in tarnation?” he said in a much louder voice.

Desmond looked behind him. Group eight had arrived. They tumbled over each other and began retching, their cries turning into anguished dry heaves. Arty and several others rushed to the bridge-in site to calm the new arrivals and begin orienting them.

Desmond turned back to the yellow and black man. “Those are our people. They arrive in groups of twenty. After they’ve all arrived, we’ll leave.”

Infinity spoke up. “You and your friends back off. There are now 160 of us. You’re outnumbered. If you try to force us to leave before all our people have arrived, we’ll fight. People will die. Your people mostly. Is that what you want?”

The yellow and black man was still staring at the new arrivals, possibly not even having heard Infinity’s words. Finally, he shifted his gaze and looked at her and Desmond. “This is mongrel shenanigans, but you ain’t no mongrels.” Then he seemed to realize he was speaking aloud and cupped his hand to his mouth again. He whispered, “What in hellfire damnation are you?”

“We’re humans, just like you,” Desmond said softly. “We’re refugees, trying to escape from our dying Earth. We came here hoping to make a new home.”

The man eyed Desmond suspiciously. Like all the other native men and women, his hair was cropped short, but not in a neat, styled way. Instead, it appeared to have been sawed off with a steak knife. Similarly, the man’s beard and paint-covered pubic hairs had been haphazardly hacked to less than an inch long. The paint on his body, although striking in appearance, was smudged in places. His face, hands, and bare feet—the only parts not painted—were scarred and dirt-stained.

“Whatever you are,” the man hissed, “you ain’t taking our food, and you ain’t got no right to our bailiwick or our raptures. As for my kin being outnumbered, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“Oh, shit,” Infinity said.

Desmond looked. More natives were approaching—a lot more. They were moving steadily through the forest in a pack, at least two hundred of them. Among them were children, also painted in various colors and patterns. Many of the approaching people held rocks in their hands, prepared to throw them.

“Find rocks to use as weapons!” Infinity called out to the refugees behind her. “Be ready to use them!”

The refugees whispered to each other and shuffled through the dried leaves looking for rocks. For whatever reason, the mongrels didn’t seem to mind the use of rocks, although they obviously had a problem with spears. The mongrels do not fancy human-made contrivances. That’s what Abel had said.

The painted people advanced silently until they were standing in a mass behind the yellow and black man. Most of them stared at the refugees, occasionally glancing toward the mongrels’ bubble, as if the bubble’s proximity made them every bit as nervous as the human intruders did.

“You all ain’t the first trespassers hankering for our bailiwick, and you shan’t be the last,” the yellow and black man said, this time speaking loud enough for all to hear. “We will smite you and all who follow.” He turned to the mass of painted natives behind him. “Send these prattling miscreants to hell’s infernal bowels!”

The natives advanced, still glancing frequently at the mongrel’s bubble. Several rocks were thrown and Desmond heard another refugee get hit.

Infinity grabbed Desmond’s arm and pulled him back toward the others. “Get ready to fight for your lives!” she shouted. “Find any weapon you can, and—”

“Zeeee-zeeee-ooooo!”

The high-pitched cry almost hurt Desmond’s ears. Everyone fell silent.

“My goodness gracious,” a warbling voice shouted.

Desmond turned and spotted Abel, dropping from a tree near the mongrel bubble. The creature curled its tail into a tight spiral, raised its clawed venomcrook above its head, and walked on four of its six limbs until it stood before the yellow and black man.

“This fracas is no concern of yours, musk monkey,” the yellow and black man said, his voice returning to a whisper channeled by his cupped hand.

“Strangers come from afar to your bailiwick,” Abel said at full volume. “They come in the way mongrels come. And you want to smite them all. Without a parley? Without speaking to your dear friend, Abel?”

The man’s eyes widened slightly. “This ain’t your concern, Abel.”

Abel leaned toward the man, raising the venomcrook slightly. “Nehemiah, I hereby rescind your forthcoming rapture.”

The man—Nehemiah—shook his head, his eyes growing even wider. “No, please. My turn was in four days!”

Abel gazed at him for a few seconds. “It is rescinded. Will your scornfulness result in rescindment of yet another?”

Nehemiah’s face reddened, and Desmond saw tears forming in his eyes. Nehemiah looked down at the ground. He shook his head.

Abel turned in a circle, studying the painted natives and then the refugees. “Goodness gracious,” the creature said. “I was resting my weary bones. Such a troublesome night. And now this. I’m feeling rancorous.” He stepped closer and faced Desmond and Infinity. “The herd does not fancy your trespass. A conflict is brewing. Perhaps a battle. This is good, but not for you—only for the mongrels, as they delight in such spectacles.”

“We told you before—we don’t want to fight these people,” Infinity said.

The creature inflated its green cheeks and then let out a long breath, which sounded very much like a sigh. “No, I reckon you don’t. But you soon will.”

10

Abominations

September 2 - 7:27 AM

Powerless. That’s how Infinity felt. For whatever goddamn reason, weapons weren’t allowed, but rocks were fair game. The colony couldn’t migrate to another location until the remaining groups had bridged in, but staying meant they’d be attacked by 250 multi-colored maniacs who were apparently addicted to getting hit with a venomcrook. And if Gavin’s response had been any indication, this rapture drug took addiction to a whole new level.

With every passing hour, the fate of Colony ST5 was looking more dismal.

Since the painted natives had backed off an hour or so ago, Infinity had been helping Desmond train a group of refugees who had volunteered to take a crash course in hand-to-hand fighting, but she needed a break from the endless complaints about being expected to fight. They complained that this wasn’t what they’d signed up for. That they’d had a better chance of surviving back in their own universe. They asked why they hadn’t been allowed to bring bodyguards with them. And the best one, could they return to their own version of Earth after thirty-six hours if they held tightly to Desmond and Infinity at the moment of bridge-back?

Infinity’s sleep deprivation was starting to impair her ability to be patient, so she stepped away from the colonists to clear her mind. She gazed at the painted natives. After Abel’s intervention had de-escalated their confrontation, about half of them had grudgingly gone back to wherever they’d come from, including the green man she’d beaten senseless. He had been helped to his feet and led away by a yellow and red woman. Those who had stayed behind—over a hundred of them—were now gathered near the mongrels’ bubble, waiting patiently as if they expected something to happen.

“It is time for them to feed.”

Infinity suddenly realized Abel was at her side. The damn creature had a knack for appearing out of nowhere. She caught a whiff of its scent before asking, “The humans? What are they going to feed on?”

“Any vittles the mongrels are of a mind to dish out. This place is the indigenous herd’s bailiwick, at least until your herd lays hold of it.”

She turned to the creature. “We don’t intend to take their land from them.”

Abel gazed back at her, black eyes blinking out of sync. “Your herd will need to feed.”

“Can’t my people go somewhere else and establish a colony?”

“Elsewhere you will find more bailiwicks, each with its own herd equally keen on smiting trespassers.”

“What about cities? How far is the nearest city?”

Several more out-of-sync blinks, but no answer.

“Towns,” Infinity said. “Villages. Places where thousands of people live beside each other.”

Still more blinks. “Thousands? I know of no such bailiwick. Mongrels don’t fancy such unnatural herds.”

“But there were cities here 150 years ago! Big cities. Some with a million or more people.”

Abel made a chortling sound. “Preposterous!” After a moment, the creature continued. “Still, had such abominations existed, the mongrels most assuredly would have brought them to naught. The mongrels would never allow it.”

Infinity stared at the creature. Then she turned to the shimmering bubble. Could the mongrels have destroyed all of Earth’s cities? Could they really be that powerful? If so, this colony was royally screwed. “Is there anywhere we can go that is not controlled by mongrels?”

Abel remained silent for a few seconds. “Your ignorance is remarkable. Truly you have come from afar. I reckon this is why the mongrels allow you to speak. The land between bailiwicks is free of mongrel rule. It is the wild land, rife with troublesome rascals and scalawags, scraping sustenance from the land. Ferals, they’re called. Too weak to seize a bailiwick, or too prideful to accept sustenance from mongrels.”

In spite of her exhaustion, Infinity perked up. “This wild land—how far away is it?”

“Near to a mile, give or take.” It held out its twitching venomcrook as a pointer, aiming it over her shoulder. “Thataway.” It then pointed the weapon to its left, right, and behind. “Thataway, thataway, and thataway.”

Infinity perked up even more. “Then our colony will move to the wild land.” She nodded to the painted herd gathered beside the bubble. “Could we avoid conflict with these people by doing that?”

Abel glanced toward the herd. “Perhaps. Question is, will you want to? Your herd must feed.”

“Maybe my people can learn to grow crops.” Even as she spoke these words, Infinity knew this wasn’t likely. Not with these refugees. Besides, it was already September.

The green and tan skin around Abel’s eyes and mouth had pulled tight, creating vertical ridges. This was no doubt a facial expression, but Infinity had no idea what it meant. “You should pay a visit to the wild land,” the creature said. “Yes, that’s what you should do. And I, Abel, will guide you there. Upon which you will root out the merits of your notion.”

Infinity gazed at the thing’s nonhuman face. “Are you serious? Now?”

Another chortle. “Those who wait to feed go hungry. Yes, I will guide you to the wild land. It would please me. But first, I must attend to a less pleasing task. I beg your pardon.” The creature then leaned forward until its lower pair of hands were on the ground.

As Abel walked toward the painted herd on two hands and two feet, Desmond and Arty approached Infinity.

“I’m not an expert on evolution,” Arty said, watching Abel, “but that thing’s body structure is unlike any other animal on Earth. Insects are the biggest animals with six arms. Or six legs, or whatever those are. It can’t be from a different version of Earth, can it?”

Infinity looked at Arty, surprised he was even taking the time to consider such things when his entire colony was in danger.

“Abel has to be from another version of Earth,” Desmond said. “And so do the mongrels, as different as they may seem. It all depends on how far back in time their divergence was. Assuming Abel is not an invention of the mongrels, he must have come from a version of Earth that diverged from ours before the first vertebrate animals with limbs appeared, which was over 350 million years ago. Because as soon as the basic structure of four legs evolved, that became the normal pattern for all limbed vertebrates that followed. Creatures with two legs and four arms never existed, as far as I know.” He then nodded toward the house-sized transparent bubble and sighed loudly. “As for the mongrels, though, I have no idea how far back the diversion point would’ve had to be. I don’t even know if they have cells, let alone arms and legs.”

“Why do they have to be from a version of Earth?” Arty asked. “Couldn’t they be aliens from another planet?”

Desmond furrowed his brows and glanced at Infinity.

“Don’t look at me,” she said. “I just need to know how to kill them if I have to.”

He returned his gaze to Arty. “I like science fiction movies as much as the next guy, but that kind of space travel isn’t really possible.”

Arty flashed a dubious frown. “You do know we just traveled between universes, right?”

Desmond shook his head. “It’s not the same thing as space travel. We didn’t travel thousands of light years to get here. In fact, we didn’t travel at all. We simply bridged to the exact same place, at the exact same time, but in an alternate universe.”

Arty didn’t appear convinced. “Well, they look like aliens to me. I mean, the little dude is green, with six arms and a wicked club made out of some kind of giant bug. In the encyclopedia, its picture should be next to the word alien.”

Desmond smiled. “Well, I agree with that. And I suppose if another civilization could develop bridging technology, it could also develop advanced space travel. But I have a hard time believing any civilization has figured out how to overcome a limitation as fundamental as the speed of light. I have to believe Abel and the mongrels bridged here from a different version of Earth, the same way we did.”

Infinity rolled her eyes, bored by this entire conversation. She turned to watch Abel. The creature was talking to the remaining members of the herd. Seven of the painted natives were lined up before him, one behind the other. Abruptly, Abel flicked his venomcrook, striking the first person in line, a red woman with blue shoulders, elbows, and knees. The woman cried out, collapsed to her knees, and then curled up into a fetal position on the ground.

Infinity instinctively took a step toward her, adrenaline surging. But then she stopped. The woman had begun moaning as if in the throes of ecstasy.

“What the hell?” Arty muttered. He and Desmond were now also watching the natives.

The next person in line, a red man with random black splotches, stepped around the woman and stood before Abel. Seconds later, he too had been struck and was lying on the ground, moaning. This continued until all seven of the painted rapture junkies were writhing with pleasure.

Infinity exchanged a concerned glance with Desmond.

Abel ambled over to the giant bubble’s membrane and touched it with his venomcrook. Immediately, some of the herd gathered around the spot, blocking Infinity’s view. The remaining natives, except for the seven who were still writhing on the ground, formed a semicircle around their companions as if guarding them. Most of the guards held rocks ready to hurl if necessary. Seconds later, people began emerging from the semicircle, carrying armloads of what appeared to be formless, brown mud. Those burdened with loads headed off into the forest, presumably toward their village, or settlement, or wherever they lived. By this time, the seven who’d been struck by Abel’s venomcrook were staggering to their feet with stupid grins on their faces.

Abel turned from the herd and ambled back to Infinity, Desmond, and Arty. “I reckon they’re pleased your herd didn’t seize their vittles. You were wise to wait.”

“Their vittles?” Desmond asked. “That was food? From the mongrels?”

“The mongrels ain’t cruel. They provide for the herd. And they provide for other critters of their bailiwick, but humans require more care. I declare, things would be a mite easier without the herd, but the mongrels fancy them being around.” The creature looked from Infinity to Desmond to Arty. “I reckon you folks and your herd are gonna throw the balance out of whack. If the mongrels allow you to live, that is.”

Once again, Infinity didn’t even know what to ask first, which was starting to piss her off.

“Why wouldn’t they let us live?” Desmond asked.

“Fickle, they are. One day they fancy having 400 in the herd. The next day they decide that’s too many, so they curtail the vittles. Now there’s only enough for 250. Makes for interesting conflicts in the herd. The mongrels do enjoy watching the consequences of their shenanigans.”

A chill ran up the back of Infinity’s neck. The whole scenario was turning out to be a goddamn nightmare. The colony had to get away from all this. She asked Abel, “Are you still taking me to the wild land?”

Confused cries suddenly rang out from the bridge-in site, drawing glances from everyone, including Abel and the painted natives.

“That’d be group nine,” Arty said. “If you folks would excuse me.” He turned and made his way toward the twenty new arrivals, most of whom had tumbled to the ground in a thrashing, retching heap. He joined several others in trying to calm the newcomers.

“My goodness gracious,” Abel said, staring at the new arrivals. “It’s no wonder your herd has the mongrels so vexed. What are they to do with you? I’ve a notion to go back to sleep, as I fear what I may otherwise witness.”

Annoyed, Infinity snapped her fingers in Abel’s face. She quickly regretted it and took a step back, eyeing the venomcrook. “The wild land,” she reminded the creature.

“Yes, yes,” it said, pulling its gaze away from the new arrivals. “A musk monkey’s job is never done. And I reckon a walk to the wild land is a dandy excuse to beat a hasty retreat. Pick your direction, and I’ll take you there.”

“What’s going on?” Desmond asked.

Infinity hesitated, taking a deep breath, uncertain she could justify leaving the bridge-in site. So she decided not even to try. “I’m going with Abel to the wild land. He says it’s only a mile away. So I hope to be back in an hour or two.”

Desmond stared at her, frowning. “You two are leaving?” He tilted his head toward the painted herd. “Abel is the only reason those people haven’t attacked us.”

“You can shuck your agitations,” Abel said. “I have reached an accord with the herd. For the moment, since you didn’t seize their vittles, they’ll give you a wide berth. But come feeding time tomorrow morning, if your herd is still here—well, the mongrels will indeed have some entertainment. I’m sad to say it’ll be my job to poke the hornet’s nest.” Abel then released a long breath, seemingly attempting to imitate a human sigh.

Infinity turned to Desmond. “I’m going with him to find out whether the refugees might be able to escape all this bullshit by moving to the wild land.”

“Indeed,” Abel said. “Exhaust all foolhardy options, thus making it more palatable to you when you must seize the bailiwick.”

The musk monkey was starting to get on Infinity’s nerves. “We need to know if there’s any chance the colony could survive in the wild land,” she said to Desmond. “We’re running out of options.”

He studied her for a few seconds. “Then I’ll go with you.”

She shook her head. “One of us needs to stay here. The refugees need to know a bridger is with them.”

“Then you should be the one to stay, and I should go. I’m more qualified to determine whether the wild land can sustain the colony.” He raised his brows. “Biologist, remember?”

Infinity felt her jaw muscles tighten. “If you’re just trying to protect me, I’ll beat you to a—”

“No! I know better than that, Infinity. The refugees need a real bridger here—not me. You stay here and do what you do best, and I’ll go and do what I’m more qualified to do. You have to admit it makes sense.”

She considered this. Reluctantly, she nodded. “Take Arty with you, maybe a few more. Look for anything that might suggest the colony could survive there, even for just the first winter. Look for roads or any evidence of cities. Their best bet is to—”

“I know, Infinity. I’ve got this.” He flashed an annoying grin that didn’t make her feel any better about things.

The musk monkey shifted its position impatiently. “Seeing as how the wild land will not suit either of you, your parley is hardly worth the breath used to spawn it. I could be resting high in my favorite tree. Are we going, or ain’t we?”

“We’re going,” Desmond said. Then he eyed Infinity. “We’ll explore for two or three hours, tops. Even if we don’t find much, at least we’ll have more information than we do now.”

“They will be safe in my company,” Abel said to Infinity, raising his venomcrook as if to reinforce his point. “If, before we return, you decide to seize the bailiwick, I ask that you wait. I find bloodshed and savagery to be unsavory, but the mongrels will transfigure my sorry carcass into a possum if I fail to arbitrate the fracas.”

Infinity closed her eyes for a moment to calm her mind. Finally, she opened them again and nodded. “If you’re not back when group thirteen arrives at noon, I’ll assume you’re dead.”

11

Wild Land

September 2 - 8:29 AM

Progress was slow through the oak-hickory forest’s late-summer undergrowth. The group had been hiking for about twenty minutes, and Desmond still hadn’t seen any signs of civilization, not even a cleared swath where a road may have once been. Arty and a woman named Gretchen Watkins had volunteered to come along. Both of them were more physically fit than Desmond, but neither was accustomed to hiking barefoot, which slowed the group’s progress. These were pretty much the same woods in which Desmond had trained near SafeTrek’s facility, but even his feet were bleeding in two places.

Abel had remained mostly quiet so far. But Desmond needed to talk, to get his mind off what might be happening to Infinity and the refugees. Getting straight answers from the musk monkey had already proven to be a challenge, so he decided to try a new approach.

“Abel, if you were new to this place, like we are, what information would you most need to know about the mongrels?”

Abel’s body was clearly designed for moving through the trees, but for some reason the creature had decided to walk on the ground beside the humans. The musk monkey paused briefly and gazed at Desmond, although Desmond was never sure exactly what Abel was looking at, given that the creature had no whites in its eyes.

“Clever human,” Abel replied. “I reckon I know what knowledge you’re fishing for, so here it is. I’d be obliged to know that the mongrels reign over this land. A domicile of mongrels rules each bailiwick. The mongrels might provide sustenance if they find you’ve an aptness for amusing them. If you ain’t got such an aptness, you’re better off making yourselves scarce. Problem is, bailiwicks already got herds. You can join a herd, you can drive a herd out of a bailiwick with violence and savagery, or you can join the ferals in the wild land. That right there is the gist of it—the meat and the marrow.”

Arty spoke up. “I don’t suppose a group of over seven hundred of us could join a herd, could we?”

Abel released a burst of air that ended as a brief whistle. “I hear tell of a bailiwick somewheres to the south with a tad more than three hundred. My mongrels provide sustenance for 250. The mongrels to the east provide for less than a hundred. Those to the north provide for only thirty, which explains why ferals run them off and take their bailiwick every new moon, only to be run off and replaced again. Not enough in the herd to hold strong. That’s good, but only for the mongrels. The mongrels fancy a good fracas.”

“So the answer is no,” Arty said. “Great.”

“What’s your role in all this?” Gretchen asked the musk monkey. It was the first time she’d spoken since they’d started walking. “Why are you here, and why are you helping us?”

Abel unfurled his long tail, snaking it up around his neck, where it then hung loosely, as if this were an easier way to carry it. “I act in service of the mongrels. Likewise did my ancestors.”

“So you’re a slave?” Gretchen asked.

Abel glanced at her without breaking stride. “Musk monkeys ain’t slaves. We are free to go elsewhere if we’ve a hankering to. So happens I prefer the hospitality of my mongrels. They give sustenance, and I do chores they find thorny and arduous, such as speaking to you folks. Or holding sway over the herd. Or doing just about anything needs being done. I’m a jack-of-all-trades.”

Desmond looked at Abel, and the creature twisted its face, exposing a mouth with jagged black ridges instead of teeth. It was an expression that might have been a musk monkey’s version of a smile.

“Sounds like a slave to me,” Gretchen muttered.

Abel stopped and wheeled around to face her. The creature shook its venomcrook in her face, and she pulled back warily.

“So speaks the plump varmint who looks to have nary missed a feeding. Your sentiments may wear a more obliging face come tomorrow, or tomorrow’s tomorrow.”

“Okay, okay,” Gretchen said, her eyes wide.

Abel lowered his weapon and continued walking as if nothing had happened.

Desmond eyed Gretchen to make sure she was okay.

“Who the hell is he calling plump?” she said as she resumed following Arty and the musk monkey.

Gretchen was a big woman, but she was all muscle. In fact, she had earned a brown belt in Brazilian jiu-jitsu, which was why she’d volunteered for this hike to the wild land. She looked almost as fierce as Infinity, minus all the scars. But when compared to the comparatively gaunt natives, Desmond could see how Abel might consider all of the refugees to be plump.

* * *

8:50 AM

Abel led them alongside a barely-trickling stream into a valley between two hills. On either side of the stream rose increasingly impressive limestone and shale bluffs. Desmond hadn’t seen these bluffs while exploring the woods near SafeTrek, and they would certainly exist in his version of Earth, so he assumed the group had moved beyond SafeTrek’s 400-acre property.

“Abel,” Gretchen said, “can I ask a personal question? I don’t mean to offend or upset you.”

“Musk monkeys do not get upset,” Abel replied.

She paused. “Okay, well… are you a male or a female? Because I can’t really tell.” Gretchen’s curiosity apparently outweighed her caution.

“Your conjecture is as good as mine,” the creature said.

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Ain’t never known and don’t care.”

This piqued Desmond’s interest, so he asked, “How does your kind reproduce?”

Abel stopped walking and looked up at the bluffs to the right, and then to the left. “That ain’t the way things work. Maybe long ago it was. But these days? If I get a bug up my butt and decide to leave, or if a tree falls on my sorry carcass, the mongrels will make a new musk monkey to take on my chores. Simple as that.”

“So, how do mongrels make new musk monkeys?” Gretchen asked.

“I can’t explain mongrel shenanigans. Sometimes they make musk monkeys from humans in their herd, sometimes from other critters. Me, I don’t know what I was summoned up from. Tadpoles and minnows, maybe.”

Desmond thought of Gavin being transformed into a white-tailed deer. The mongrels definitely had technology—or abilities—humans hadn’t even imagined.

Abel cupped three of his hands to his mouth and cried out, “Ferals! Yoo-hoo. Show yourselves.” He lowered his hands and waited.

A barred owl hooted in the distance, but nothing else happened.

“Ferals,” Abel commented. “Scarce only when you need ’em.” He then started walking again.

Desmond, Arty, and Gretchen exchanged glances and then followed.

“I got a question of my own,” Abel said. “Why would you folks come to this place if you’ve no inkling of musk monkeys or mongrels? Seems a mite bit ill-considered to me, like eating a toadstool without knowing if it’ll turn your brain to mud.”

Desmond didn’t see any reason to hide the truth from this creature. “Our world is collapsing. Everyone on it is going to die. Eight billion people.”

Abel turned to look at him but didn’t say anything.

Desmond went on. “We’ve been bridging colonies of people to different versions of our world, trying to save as many as we can. Time is running out. We sent some animals here to make sure the place was livable, and all of them came back alive, although one was in the form of a miniature musk monkey.”

“Mongrel shenanigans, no doubt,” Abel said.

“Yeah, I guess,” Desmond said. “Anyway, we decided to go ahead and send the colony here. Infinity and I will bridge back to our world after the last group of twenty arrives. But everyone else will be here to stay. That’s why we need to figure out where the colony can live. We have been counting on them living with the humans here.”

“In cities,” Arty said.

Gretchen added, “With grocery stores and coffee shops and apartments.”

Still walking on his feet and two lower hands, Abel stared straight ahead for what seemed like a full minute. Finally, he spoke softly. “I dare say, you have picked the wrong toadstool.”

After they had hiked another five minutes or so in silence, Abel stopped and cupped three hands to his mouth again. “Ferals! Do you think me a fool? I know you’re here!”

“Go back, musk monkey,” a man’s voice called out. “You and the vassals ain’t welcome here.”

Desmond tried to spot the man who had spoken. It had come from ahead and above, among the crags of the rocky bluff.

“These folks ain’t vassals,” Abel replied to the unseen feral. “You might consider showing them some hospitality, seeing as how they’re contemplating taking up residence in the wild land.”

A shuffle came from above, and a pebble bounced its way down the bluff. Another shuffle—this one from a different location. Desmond glimpsed a brief movement in a third location, perhaps someone’s shoulder or head.

“We got no need for more ferals here.” The voice sounded closer this time. “Autumn’s coming and we’re full up.”

Abel let out a warbling grunt and muttered, “Dunderheaded ferals.” Then much louder, “I figured as much! Which is why I brought them here. They’re the kind that needs showing, not telling.”

More shuffling above, along with muffled voices. A head and pair of shoulders appeared over one of the crags—a black man with a haphazardly-cropped afro and beard. His shoulders were bare, rather than painted like the bodies of those in the herd had been. Another head appeared a few yards from the first, this one with paler skin, but not white—the person appeared to be Native American.

“They don’t look like ferals,” the black man said.

“If you’d be courteous enough to come down, we could explain,” Abel replied.

Another voice came from the bluffs on the opposite side of the stream. “Either lose the venomcrook or back away a good distance. Then we’ll come down.” It was another black man, this one almost bald.

Abel grunted again, but then he walked to a rocky slope fifteen yards away, crawled atop a half-buried boulder, and sat on his haunches. “This distance suit you?”

More shuffling above, this time from all sides, and soon about ten ferals were clambering down the rocks. Four of them were clearly black. The others ranged from pale white to brown. And then two unusual figures caught Desmond’s eye—musk monkeys.

Seconds later, Desmond, Arty, and Gretchen were surrounded by two musk monkeys and eight gaunt, unpainted, nearly-naked humans. The musk monkeys’ oily garlic smell was nearly rivaled by the unmistakable odor of unwashed human bodies. Although the musk monkeys were naked, the humans—all of them men—wore ill-fitting shorts made from crudely-woven fibers. The best of these were filthy and ragged, the worst nearly disintegrated. Each man wore moccasin-like coverings on his feet, appearing to be made of animal hide. Three of the men carried bags made of woven plant fibers, bulging with hidden contents. Several long seconds of silence passed as the ferals studied the newcomers.

“You folks vassals?” asked the man who had spoken first.

Desmond cleared his throat and stood up straight. “We don’t know what vassals are.”

“Vassals are them who live in bailiwicks,” Abel said from his rocky perch. “Humans are either vassals or ferals. Musk monkeys, too, if you hadn’t noticed.”

The feral musk monkeys simultaneously let out warbling grunts. One of them said, “Abel’s a vassal, no two ways about it. Carries that dad-blamed venomcrook around like he’s a king. But Abel ain’t nothing more than a mongrel’s squire.”

“You look to be freshly washed,” one of the men said, staring Gretchen’s body up and down. “And I don’t see a hair on you. Did the mongrels conjure you folks? Is this mongrel trickery?”

“They look broad in the beam to me,” another man said. “Gotta be mongrel-made—else how’d they get so plump?”

“Gotta be mongrel-made,” another man agreed.

“For crying out loud!” Abel said. “Refrain from spouting nonsense long enough for them to explain. You might be interested in what they got to say.”

The ferals fell silent but continued eyeing Desmond and his two companions with suspicion.

“There are about seven hundred of us,” Desmond said. “We’re not friends of the mongrels. We don’t even know anything about mongrels. But I think we came to this place in the same way the mongrels did, by bridging from another version of this world. Only two of us are going home. The rest have to stay here. We’re looking for help. We need a place where seven hundred people can live.”

The ferals remained silent, exchanging glances.

“Seven hundred of you?” one of the men asked.

Abel spoke up again. “They’re inquiring if they can come here to the wild land and live among you ferals. Every last one of them.”

Again, there was a long period of silence. Finally, the man who had first spoken from the bluffs stepped forward and put his hand on the top of Desmond’s head. He caressed the bare scalp slowly, as if he’d never felt anything so smooth. He looked Desmond in the eye. “My name’s Prudence.” He pulled his hand from Desmond’s scalp and pointed to the other ferals one at a time as he introduced them. “This here’s Respect, Proficience, Calm, Wonder, Tact, Resolve, and Patience. Them two musk monkeys, they’re Perseverance and Resilience.”

“I’m Desmond. This is Gretchen and Arty.”

The man flicked his eyes toward Desmond’s companions for a brief second. “We don’t wish to agitate a herd of seven hundred, as we’re but forty-six humble ferals. Your herd could seize our parcel of wild land without hardly trying. And every parcel within a day’s walk. So maybe you should come with us. I’d like you to witness with your own eyes what you’re figuring on seizing.”

“Exactly my sentiments,” Abel said. “Show them.”

“Will you come?” Prudence asked. He looked down at Desmond’s bleeding feet and frowned. “It ain’t far.”

Desmond nodded. “We’d appreciate any help or information you can give us.”

The men and the two musk monkeys then turned and began walking. Abel hopped down from his perch to follow them. “Shan’t take long, I reckon. Not much to see.”

Together they followed the ferals, making their way along the nearly-dry stream bed.

12

Shenanigans

September 2 - 10:19 AM

Infinity stood before the mongrels’ bubble with her hands up, palms forward, hoping the creatures within it would understand the gesture and stop approaching. The bubble had been creeping closer to the bridge-in site every hour, after the arrival of each new refugee group. It was moving at this moment, and its leading edge was beginning to encroach on the site’s trampled area. The bridging device had never bridged anyone into a solid object—it had built-in safeguards that would shift the bridge-in site to avoid solid objects—but Infinity had no idea whether the mongrel bubble would even register on its sensors. If the bubble continued its advance, the next incoming refugees could find themselves swimming in glowing goo.

That would no doubt end badly.

The bubble stopped, causing its outer membrane to jiggle. Had it stopped in response to her gesture? There was no way to know.

After waiting a few seconds to be sure the bubble wasn’t simply pausing, she walked around its entire perimeter trying to see the mongrels inside, but she didn’t see anything. Most of the painted natives were now gone, although she could still see five of them watching her from a distance, perhaps stationed as lookouts.

Infinity leaned against a tree near the bridge-in site and observed the refugees. There were now over two hundred, and the newest group of twenty were just starting to lapse into somber silence as they realized their hopes for an easy life here had been squashed. Most of the men were sitting or lying on the ground, talking quietly with one another or trying to catch a few minutes of sleep. While the men seemed content being idle, the women had joined together in a coordinated effort to gather grasses, which they were weaving into mats to sit on. Some had even created wrap-around skirts. The women, it seemed, were not only less tolerant of idleness, they were less willing to sit bare-assed in the dirt and dead leaves. This was probably good because in a few months cold weather would come, and the ability to make clothing might save these colonists’ lives. The refugees would also have to master a reliable fire-starting technique. And they’d need insulated shelters, enough for over seven hundred people. And they would need warm clothing.

SafeTrek had provided regular survival training sessions for refugees waiting in the makeshift encampment outside the compound. Most of these people, however, probably hadn’t bothered to attend the sessions.

Infinity sighed and rubbed her scalp. Her lack of sleep was catching up with her, and the multitude of uncertainties about this situation were making it difficult to pick a course of action. Until Desmond returned with more information about the wild land, though, she could at least start training the refugees in some basic skills.

She pushed away from the tree. “I need fifteen volunteers to learn a set of survival skills and then teach what you’ve learned to the others.”

Over two hundred refugees turned and stared at her in silence.

“Since we don’t know what you’ll be faced with in the coming days, we’ll begin with how to make a fire.”

Still they stared.

One hand went up. “I’ll volunteer,” the woman said.

A man got to his feet. “I’ll do my best.”

Infinity crossed her arms and waited. One at a time, people continued volunteering until there were enough.

“Follow me.” Infinity made her way through the brush with the volunteers until they were at least fifty yards from the bubble, in case the mongrels had a problem with humans making fire. Once the volunteers had gathered around, she said, “Basically, you have three choices: a fire plow, a bow and drill, or a two-man friction drill. All three involve creating heat from the friction of wood against wood. I prefer a bow, but for that you’d need strong cord made from animal hide or dried intestines. That’s something you’ll want to obtain later. For now, we’ll work with what we have. You’re going to need a wood base, a friction stick, tinder, kindling, and fuel, and procuring each of those involves its own set of skills. We’ll start with the wood base and stick.”

She proceeded to show them how to search for the driest wood, which was usually on the interior of dead limbs that had not yet fallen to the ground. She found a thick limb about seven feet from the ground and instructed several of the heavier men to pull down on it, aiming to split it at the base, creating a flat wood surface. Once they had done this, she used a sharp-edged rock to gouge a groove the length of the dry interior wood.

Next she located a relatively straight stick less than an inch in diameter and blunted the end by rubbing it against the rock. She demonstrated how to use the stick as a plow, pushing it quickly and repeatedly along the groove, which not only created heat from friction, but also created wood dust that would eventually become embers.

Next came one of the more challenging tasks—finding suitable tinder. The best material for this was a wad of cotton from the cottonwood tree, but the trees had shed their cotton several months ago, in June. The best alternative was dry, crumbled leaves. She showed them how to find the driest leaves and how to grind them up by rolling them between their palms.

As the refugees set about doing this, a loud chattering drew their attention to the mongrel bubble. Infinity moved close enough to see what was happening. The noise was coming from birds. Hundreds of them, and more were streaming in every second, joining the others on the ground to one side of the bubble.

“They’re feeding,” said a woman standing beside Infinity. “The mongrels probably feed them at a certain time every day. That’s how they know to come here all at once.”

The birds kept pouring in until they were scrambling over each other to get to whatever food the mongrels had provided. Blue jays, red cardinals, yellow finches, black and brown birds of several types, all of them chittering and scrabbling for their share.

Watching the spectacle, Infinity couldn’t help but think of the herd of painted humans. A foreboding chill surged through her as the reality of their situation set in—the mongrels probably considered humans to be little more than local wildlife coming to a backyard feeder. Was this to be the future of the colony? Would they end up living as wild creatures, fighting over scraps of food?

Gradually, the birds began to disperse, having depleted the food.

“The herd’s coming back,” said the woman next to Infinity.

Six painted men were walking toward the main mass of refugees. The painted men were led by Nehemiah, whose yellow limbs and black torso contrasted with his companions’ wildly varying colors. Nehemiah spotted Infinity and changed direction, heading straight for her.

She heard the refugees behind her rooting around for rocks, and she instructed them to hold steady. Nehemiah and his companions weren’t carrying rocks and didn’t appear to be looking for trouble.

Nehemiah stopped a few yards away. He made a show of placing a palm over his mouth, pointing with his other hand to an area farther from the mongrels. He and his group began walking in that direction. He turned and gestured for Infinity to follow.

Infinity didn’t move. “What do you want?” she asked.

Nehemiah flinched as if she’d yelled in his ear. He glanced at the bubble and then whispered, “I’d fancy a powwow with you and your herd if you’ll grant it. Out of mongrel earshot.”

Infinity turned to the refugees beside her. “Care to join me?”

“I don’t see what these primitives can possibly offer us,” one of the men said. “When we’re all here, we’ll march to the nearest city and make our case for integration.”

Apparently some of the refugees weren’t yet aware of the deep shit they were in. And there wasn’t time now to explain.

“Stay here if you want,” Infinity said. She followed the natives. She heard feet shuffling through the leaves behind her as at least some of the refugees followed.

Nehemiah and his group stopped when the bubble was well out of view, perhaps 150 yards out. His companions sat down in a row on a long fallen log, but he continued standing, his hands clasped together in front of his painted crotch.

Nehemiah cleared his throat. “What possesses you folks to speak in the mongrels’ presence?”

“Why shouldn’t we?” Infinity asked.

Nehemiah creased his brows. “I don’t give a care if you’re looking to transfigure your whole herd into varmints, but you’re just as likely to befall the same fate upon our herd. We won’t abide it.”

“What do you mean?” Infinity asked. “Pretend like we know nothing about the mongrels, which is true.”

The man studied her for a moment as if trying to decide whether she was lying. “The mongrels don’t fancy human speech.”

“Why not?”

“Fiddlesticks, woman. The why of it don’t matter. It’s what the mongrels will do that matters. I’m here to implore you to hold your tongues in the mongrels’ vicinity lest you bring their wrath upon us all.”

Infinity hesitated, but then she nodded. “I’ll tell my people to minimize their talking.”

Nehemiah nodded back. He then glanced at his painted companions before going on. “Our herd’s been settled in this bailiwick for nigh on seven years. We’ve run afoul of raiding herds time and again, upon which we drove them away or smote them from existence. Never has a musk monkey interfered in these affairs. We’re confounded by this turn of events. Pray tell us, what are your intentions?”

One of the men behind Infinity spoke up. “We intend no harm to you or your herd. We only wish to wait for all our people to arrive, and then we’ll leave. We’ll go to the nearest city if you’d be kind enough to tell us how to get there.”

Nehemiah frowned. “Cities ain’t real. They’re the stuff of stories we tell our young ’uns at nightfall.”

A long silence followed.

“What’s the biggest town you know of?” the refugee asked. “The biggest settlement or village?”

Nehemiah scrunched his mouth to one side, forming a sneer. “You hard of hearing? Ain’t no cities. Ain’t no towns.”

One of the refugee women said, “If there are no cities here, then what’s the plan?”

The refugees all started asking questions at once, and Infinity turned and held up both her hands to silence them. She turned back to Nehemiah. “To answer your question, we won’t know what our intentions are until we know more about this world. We have to find a place where seven hundred of us can establish a colony. We’ll do whatever we have to do to make that happen. We’ll even fight if we have to.” Perhaps the natives would be more helpful under the threat of violence.

Nehemiah glared at her without blinking. After several long seconds he said, “We’ve a notion to parley. Will you hear us out?”

Infinity nodded.

“Nineteen young ’uns. Aged three to ten.”

Infinity stared at the man. “Excuse me?”

“You can have them all if you leave us be—go your way and seize another bailiwick.”

“You want to give us nineteen children?”

Nehemiah nodded once. “That’s all we got.”

“Why would we want your children?”

The man furrowed his brows in puzzlement. “You don’t seem to have none of your own. Birthing them ain’t allowed in most other bailiwicks. Nineteen young ’uns is a fair deal.”

“Are you for real?” asked a woman behind Infinity.

Again Infinity silenced the refugees, this time with gritted teeth.

“We got nothing else to give you,” Nehemiah said. “You’ll find the young ’uns to be useful. Or you could trade them away if need be. It’s a fair deal.”

Infinity wasn’t sure how to respond. She studied Nehemiah for a moment. He looked to be about fifty, although in his smudged and weathered state, he could have actually been in his thirties. “We don’t have a need for your children. But thanks for the offer. What we need is a place where seven hundred people can live.”

“Our mongrels provide hardly enough for our herd, and we’re but 254. If you seize our bailiwick, you’ll find it sorely wanting in sustenance.”

Infinity chewed her lip, thinking. This situation wasn’t getting any better. If Desmond returned with bad news about the wild land, what options would be left? “Nehemiah, do you think we could reason with the mongrels, convince them to provide sustenance for a larger group? If so, then we could join forces with you. Your herd would be almost a thousand strong. You’d never again have to worry about another herd seizing your bailiwick.”

Nehemiah and the other painted men stared back at her with pursed lips, as though wondering if she were insane.

“Infinity?” the woman behind her said. “I don’t speak for everyone, but I’m sure most of us have no intention of living like this herd of wild animals.”

Infinity wheeled around. “Shut the hell up!” She was struggling to keep her voice low. “First, don’t antagonize them. Second, you may not get to choose how you live. Maybe this isn’t what you expected, but it’s what you’ve got. Your survival is what matters now. Everything else can come in its own time.”

The woman’s eyes widened. She turned abruptly and stomped off—in a prudent, tenderfoot sort of way—back toward the other refugees.

As Infinity watched her go, she heard a swelling of voices filter through the forest from the bridge-in site. Group twelve had arrived. Infinity wouldn’t be needed, though—she’d assigned a guy named Oliver Hanley to orient the newcomers in Arty’s absence. She turned back to Nehemiah.

But then the voices from the bridge-in site surged to an alarming level.

“Infinity!” It was the woman who’d just stomped off.

Infinity whipped around again, her gut tightening. A deer ran by, followed by two more. A pack of smaller animals came hurtling through the forest after them—coyotes, foxes, raccoons, and other creatures bounding by too fast to identify. Birds, both large and small, flew overhead, squawking and twittering. All the animals were headed directly away from the bridge-in site.

“Mongrel shenanigans,” Nehemiah said.

The other natives were now on their feet. “Speaking’s what done it,” one of them said. “There’ll be hell to pay now.”

Without waiting for further explanation, Infinity took off running for the bridge-in site, drawn by increasingly frantic cries of terror and pain. She passed more fleeing animals and nearly tripped over a dog as it switched directions at the last moment in its panic. Refugees began running past her, their eyes wide with fear.

“What’s happening?” she cried. They didn’t answer.

She stopped twenty yards from the mongrels’ bubble. Most of the refugees had scattered, but at least fifty were cowering in a huddle beside the bridge-in site. Several others were sprawled on the ground writhing in pain. Infinity stared. What the hell was wrong with them? And then it hit her—the writhing refugees were transforming, quickly becoming things not human.

A man lying at the edge of the bridge-in site suddenly stopped squirming. His body split into smaller parts, and as Infinity watched, each part became an animal. A creature that may have been a badger took off from where the man’s leg had been, nearly running headlong into the huddled refugees, and prompting another chorus of cries. Several large black birds lifted off from the spot with raucous calls, leaving behind all that was left of the man—a pile of arm-sized fish flopping on the ground.

The same thing was happening to each of the other refugees sprawled on the ground, a sight so bewildering that Infinity felt her mind lapsing into a defensive state of denial. But the scene before her was real. It had to be. She had heard Abel’s words, and she’d seen Gavin transform into a deer—she knew she wasn’t hallucinating.

“God help us!” a woman cried.

Infinity tore her eyes away from a swarm of insects rising from a transforming mass of flesh that used to be a refugee. Just as she spotted the woman who had cried out, a projectile from the mongrel’s bubble splattered against the side of the woman’s neck.

The woman wiped at the spot it had hit and stared at her hand. “No!” she cried. She stumbled toward Infinity but didn’t get more than a few steps before going down, twitching like she was having a seizure.

Infinity ran toward the remaining huddled refugees, waving her arms to catch their attention. She put a finger to her lips, still waving her other hand. She wanted to scream shut the hell up but didn’t dare open her mouth.

Several of the refugees saw her and quieted down, shaking the shoulders of those within reach and signaling for them to shut up. Gradually, the entire group became silent except for muffled weeping.

With her finger still to her lips, Infinity turned to the mongrels’ bubble. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw at least one of them moving just beyond the membrane, a slight rhythmic fluctuation in the translucent fluid. She turned and scanned the surrounding forest. How many refugees had escaped? And how many had been killed, the victims of mongrel shenanigans? No way to know until the others came back. If they came back.

Silently, she watched the last few writhing refugees until their bodies’ components had run, flown, crawled, or slithered away.

13

Reason

September 2 - 9:06 AM

Desmond felt another hand caress his scalp from behind. He glanced back. This time it was the emaciated, brown-skinned man named Resolve.

“How’d you shear it so short?” he asked.

“I didn’t have to shear it. This is a result of the way we travelled to here. It’s called bridging, and it strips away our clothing and hair.” Desmond nodded toward Resolve’s erratically-cropped hair. “Why do you all keep your hair so short?”

Resolve grunted. “Hair’s a domicile for lice. You ain’t got lice where you’re from?”

Desmond considered explaining that lice were easily controlled by medication but decided against it. These people obviously had no such medicines. He decided instead to ask, “Why don’t you just shave your hair completely?”

“If I could do that, don’t you think I would? Respect used to have a steel blade,” he nodded toward the man walking about ten yards in front of them. “Kept it honed sharper than a kestrel’s talon. Mongrels caught wind of it, though. Sent that damn vassal, Abel, their musk monkey squire, to take it.”

Desmond glanced back at Abel, who was following the group far enough back to placate the ferals. “Your group doesn’t even have a knife or razor?” he asked Resolve.

“I just said we used to. Mongrels didn’t fancy our having it.”

Desmond was tempted to ask what tools these ferals did have, but again he decided to keep quiet. He pointed to the woven bag Resolve was carrying over his shoulder. “What’s in the bag?”

Resolve hefted the bag from his shoulder and held it open. It was filled with orange and white mushrooms. Desmond recognized the largest, a chicken of the woods, a blossom-like fungus that looked like it might weigh fifteen pounds on its own. Piled around it were hundreds of smaller orange chanterelles.

“Looks like enough for a feast,” Desmond said.

Resolve closed the bag and lifted it back to his shoulder. “We’ll be drying them in the sun. Sustenance for the winter. If your herd seizes our parcel and cache, I reckon we’ll starve.”

The wild land’s prospects were looking increasingly bleak. “We don’t want to seize anything from anyone.”

Resolve gazed at him for a moment but didn’t comment.

After they had been walking with the ferals for perhaps half an hour, the group came upon a clearing. Numerous horizontal poles were arranged in rows, a foot or so above the ground and supported by forked sticks embedded in the soil. Arranged atop the horizontal poles were rows of berries, roots, mushrooms, finger-sized pieces of meat, and even earthworms and cream-colored grubs. All of these were drying in the sun, no doubt to be added to the ferals’ winter sustenance cache.

Two bony women and two wiry men were tending to these drying racks, and they stopped what they were doing to stare.

“What are them vassals doing here?” one of the men shouted.

“For mongrels’ sake, they ain’t vassals!” Abel said as he emerged from the forest.

“And what’s that vassal musk monkey doing here?” the man asked.

Resolve and the other mushroom-hunting ferals ignored the man’s questions and made their way through the rows of drying foods to the far side of the clearing. They walked a short distance into the shadows of the forest and came upon an opening in a rocky crag beside a dry creek bed. The hole, perhaps eight feet wide but only four feet tall, revealed a dark cavity within. It was the mouth to a cave. Smoke wafted from the opening, smelling of burning wood.

The ferals stood in front of the opening. Prudence said, “Before you folks go fixin’ to seize our parcel, you’d be well judged to get a measure of what good it’ll do your herd of seven hundred. We’re but forty-six ferals, and this here cave’s our domicile. As you’ll see, it’s a tight squeeze for forty-six.”

“You people live in there?” Gretchen asked, making no attempt to hide her disgust.

“Keeps winter’s chill from claiming our souls,” Prudence said. “Nine of every ten of us lived to see the spring this year. We count ourselves lucky to have it.”

Desmond, Arty, and Gretchen exchanged solemn glances.

“Can’t you build log cabins or huts or something?” Arty asked.

Prudence narrowed his eyes. “How can plump vassals like y’all be so ignorant? The mongrels don’t allow domiciles built by the hands of men.”

“What do they allow?” Arty asked.

“They allow us to draw breath, to walk the earth. That’s about the extent of it.”

Desmond asked, “Do you know of any colonies of ferals as large as seven hundred?”

Several of the men scoffed.

The man named Calm said, “Perhaps you ain’t wise to the logistics of the wild land. You won’t find feral herds more populous than what the land provides for. We’re but forty-six, and that ain’t due to the size of our cave—it’s due to what our parcel can provide. Every morsel of sustenance this land produces, we need. If mushrooms or grubs have a bad year, we lose people to starvation. Hell, your herd could seize ten parcels and still want for sustenance.”

Resolve added, “There ain’t no parcel anywhere from one ocean to the other that could sustain a herd of seven hundred. That’s the plain and simple truth of the matter.”

Carrying capacity. That’s what they were talking about. The carrying capacity of any natural ecosystem was the amount of biomass the system could support. It all depended on the land’s productivity, which was determined by climate, rainfall, soil fertility, and other factors. The land, in its natural state, could only support so many ferals. The only way to increase the carrying capacity was to manage the land methodically to produce fewer non-edible plants and animals and more edible ones. Agriculture.

Desmond feared he already knew the answer to the question he was about to ask. “Have you tried farming? Raising crops to provide more reliable sustenance?”

Again, a round of scoffs.

“Mongrels don’t allow it,” Prudence said.

With those four words—mongrels don’t allow it—Desmond’s hopes for the colony’s survival sank to a new low. The mongrels, whatever the hell they were, didn’t allow houses, or villages, or cities. They didn’t allow tools. They didn’t allow agriculture.

The wild land wasn’t the answer.

“Why do you live in the wild land?” Desmond asked. “Why not live as vassals under the care of the mongrels?”

Prudence grunted. “Care, did you say? Care? The vassal herds are naught but mongrel entertainment. They pander to the mongrels’ savage whims in return for scraps of sustenance and the promise of rapture every other fortnight.”

“You do know I’m here, within earshot, do you not?” Abel said, hanging from a low branch twenty yards away. “You ferals fail to grasp the mongrels’ good intentions, notwithstanding their fickle whims. They endeavor to cultivate this land’s most natural state. They are stewards of the land.”

Prudence gave Abel no more than a perfunctory glance. “Come,” he said to Desmond, “We’ll show you our domicile lest you get a hankering to seize it for your herd.” He gestured to the cave’s mouth.

Desmond hesitated. “I have another question,” Desmond said. “I’m desperate here, and I hope you’ll be honest with me. If you were in my situation—if you were responsible for the safety of seven hundred people who had come here to avoid certain death in their own land, what would you do?”

The ferals looked at each other, frowning. Abruptly, one of the feral musk monkeys—the one named Resilience—spoke up. “You want honest opinions? I’ll give mine. I was a vassal to the mongrels. A human vassal, if you care to know. It was mongrel mischief what transfigured me to a musk monkey. Coulda been worse, I reckon. As a vassal I partook of daily feedings. I hankered for my share of rapture. I was all what the mongrels wished me to be. Until the day I weren’t. You see, the rapture touches different folks in different ways. Me, well one day I had simply had one too many pricks from the venomcrook.”

Desmond glanced over at Abel.

“I know nothing about this,” Abel said. “Twas before my time.”

Resilience went on. “Anyway, as if my mind had broken, I suddenly could no longer wait my turn. I wanted rapture again, just after having received my allotted prick. Like a skeeter needs blood. There was no quenching my thirst for it. I hollered and cried like a young ’un fresh from the womb. The next thing I knew, I had four green arms, a tail, and a strange new mind that percolated thoughts in ways I couldn’t understand. I ran and ran, scared and not even sure where I was. But my mad craving for rapture still didn’t give up its hold on me. So I tried turning back, running back to the mongrels. I’d have done anything to get just one more prick from the venomcrook. But by that time I was as lost as a blindworm with legs. Prudence here found me. He saw my condition and tied me to a tree. I hollered and begged, thinking only of getting more rapture. Finally, my condition passed, and Prudence freed me. That’s how I became a feral musk monkey, and every word of it’s true.”

Desmond waited, wondering where this story was going. “I asked what you would do if you were me?” he reminded Resilience.

“Yes, yes. What I’m trying to convey, in no uncertain terms, is that I hate mongrels. I hate ’em like a human hates lice. But if I was you, well, I’d stuff that hatred away where the sun don’t shine and realize that your herd’s got no prospects of seeing the green sprouts of spring unless they become vassals to the mongrels.”

“That there’s precisely what I’ve been implying,” Abel said. “But who listens to Abel? No one, that’s who.”

Gretchen spoke up. “So I’m supposed to accept that our only two choices are to live like this,” she waved toward the cave, “or to live like the painted people in the herd?”

The ferals gazed at her without answering.

She turned to Arty. “I can’t wrap my head around this. It just can’t be happening!” She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and headed over to where Abel was hanging from his tree.

Desmond watched her for a few seconds. Her shoulders began shaking slightly as she stared out into the forest.

“Could you go talk to her?” Desmond asked Arty.

Arty nodded and walked over to her.

Desmond turned back to Resilience and spoke softly so Abel wouldn’t hear. “Is there any way to fight the mongrels? Can they be killed? Can we split open their bubble or something like that?”

Several ferals frowned and glanced toward Abel.

Resolve whispered, “You reckon we’d be living in this cave if there was any chance of killing mongrels? They’ll smite you the moment you try. Hell, they ain’t even really got bodies. They’re like water, changing shape at will. That’s why they’re called mongrels—they don’t look like nothing in particular.”

“And,” Resilience added, “you can’t kill ’em, any more than you can kill a cloud.”

Desmond sucked in a deep breath of air tinged with smoke from the cave. “Okay, I have an idea. It may be our only chance. The mongrels seem capable of doing pretty much anything they want. If they wanted to, they could allow seven hundred people to establish a colony in or near their bailiwick. If they wanted to. So I’m going to convince them they want to. I need to talk to the mongrels.”

The ferals eyed him without speaking.

“He’s mad as a woodchuck in rapture,” one of them said.

“You can’t talk to the mongrels,” Resilience said. “They ain’t got mouths.”

Desmond lowered his voice even more. “Abel talks to them, doesn’t he? How else would he know what tasks they want him to do?” He looked at the feral musk monkey, Resilience, and then shifted his gaze to the other, Perseverance.

“Don’t look at us,” Perseverance said. “We was both humans before. We got no inkling of how that pandering, vassal musk monkey gets his orders. Besides, you can’t trust Abel. And you sure as shit can’t trust mongrels.”

Desmond glanced over at Abel, who was watching them closely.

“Something tells me I’m being talked about,” the creature said.

When Desmond turned back to the group, he glimpsed Prudence shaking his head at Resolve, obviously part of a silent exchange.

“What?” Desmond asked.

“Tell him,” Resolve said to Prudence. “What’s the harm in it?”

Prudence sighed, frowning. He eyed Desmond. “It’s just that, well, there’s a fella in our herd claims he used to talk to the mongrels.”

Desmond’s pulse quickened. “Really?”

“He did talk to them,” Resolve insisted. “Swear to the moon he did. Else how’d he come back out alive? He weren’t transfigured into a varmint or nothin’.”

Prudence sighed again. “The feral he’s talking about is older than any of us,” he said to Desmond. “His name’s Reason. Claims to be over fifty. Maybe he is, maybe he ain’t, but he sure looks it. Some of us—me not included—believe they saw him talk to the mongrels. Nigh on ten years have passed since then.”

“I was there—I seen it,” Resolve said.

“I seen it too,” Resilience added. “Before I got transfigured. Reason was always hankering to speak with the mongrels, trying this and trying that, but never making no headway. Wanted their permission to build himself and his woman a domicile of logs from trees. Then one day, well, he must’ve figured it out, because the mongrels pulled him in. I was there, I watched it happen, swear to the moon.”

“What do you mean, pulled him in?” Desmond asked.

“Pulled him right in—into their domicile.”

Desmond blinked. “Into the bubble? He was inside that thing?”

“For a good long time, long enough to drown ten times over. Came back out alive. But the mongrels had tinkered with his wits. He didn’t talk so much after that. Left his woman and the vassal herd to become a feral. For a while, he was the best egg hunter we had, in spite of always hunting by his lonesome. Ain’t much spunk left in him now.”

“What did we miss?” It was Arty, who had just returned with Gretchen.

Ignoring Arty’s question, Desmond asked, “Can we talk to this guy, Reason? Is he here?”

Prudence nodded. “If there’s but a slight chance it’ll dissuade your herd from seizing our parcel, you’re welcome to try. Thisaway.” He and the other ferals crouched low and entered the cave.

Desmond motioned for Arty and Gretchen to enter first. As he followed, he heard Abel say, “Well, isn’t this keen as paw paw pith? Suppose I’ll sit here and chew the fat with my own waggish self. Ain’t like I got other chores need tending to.”

They followed the cave’s low, rugged antechamber for at least thirty yards, and they were forced to crawl on their hands and knees. Although the rocky floor had been worn smooth by decades of use, scrabbling over them was painful. Finally, the tunnel opened to a cavity tall enough to stand in. The back of the chamber was filled to the ceiling with fist-sized objects wrapped in dry leaves, no doubt the ferals’ food stores for the coming winter. The remaining space not occupied by food stores was only about ten yards deep and five yards wide. How could forty-six people live and sleep in this space?

Two small fires were burning near the food bundles, apparently tended by four gaunt women. The women had been busy rearranging the food bundles, but they stopped and stared when they noticed the strangers. Desmond assumed they had been rotating the food to periodically expose every bundle to the drying heat of the fires. This task probably had to be performed constantly, day in and day out, to avoid mold and microbe growth on the sun-dried foods.

“Reason,” Prudence said, gazing at a naked figure sprawled on the floor against one wall, the only other person in the cave. “We got some people here want to speak to you.”

The figure let out a barely-audible grunt and rolled over. “Them’s plump vassals. What in thunderation they doing here?”

Prudence stepped over to the figure and kneeled beside him. “Reason, you best hear my words. These plump vassals got a herd of seven hundred. They’re new in these hills, and they got no parcel nor bailiwick. You fathom what I’m saying?”

Reason turned and gazed at Desmond, Arty, and Gretchen. “Seven hundred? That’s a lie. Ain’t no herd of seven hundred.”

“Well, they want to speak to you, and I reckon you’ll do them the kindness, else we may find ourselves with no domicile come winter’s chill. You fathom that?”

Desmond made his way over and kneeled beside Prudence. He studied the older man, who was naked, for a moment. Reason was malnourished and sickly. In the dim light from the fires, the man’s skin appeared dark. Like the other ferals’ hair, his was cropped short, but his was the first silver hair Desmond had seen on a feral. The most striking thing about Reason, though, was the color of his eyes, light, perhaps pale blue, but with reflected flames dancing upon the corneas. Reason appraised Desmond. The man’s starvation-tightened skin and protruding cheekbones contrasted with a gaze as intense as that of a curious child.

Desmond swallowed and spoke. “Reason, I understand you’ve communicated with mongrels. Could you tell me how you did that? I want to talk to them myself.”

Reason’s eyelids widened slightly, making his eyeballs seem too large for his emaciated face. “Most folks don’t believe I’ve ever done such a thing. Fabulist, they call me. Fibber. Mad old coot. Around the bend. Out of my tree. Cockamamie yarns of a raving luna—”

“Reason!” Prudence interrupted. “He’s asking you, ain’t he?”

Reason thought about this. He then pushed himself up to a sitting position, sending a waft of his stench Desmond’s way. “The mongrels, they can talk, just not the way you’re thinking they should. Ain’t nothing can prepare you for confronting mongrels in their own domicile. You ever conject on what it might feel like to talk to God? Well, even that won’t prepare you for confronting mongrels. If you live to tell of it, you’ll forever wear the face of a chastened man. If you’re still a man, that is.”

Desmond felt prickles on his skin. “I need to talk to the mongrels. I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

A smile began to form at the corners of Reason’s mouth. “That a fact? Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

Desmond stared at him. “You won’t help me?”

“Ain’t a matter of whether I will. It’s a matter of whether you’re up to the task. You see, I studied the mongrels for a good piece of a year. Watched their shenanigans. Listened to the utterances of the vassals that tended to stir up their mischief and fury. And, though you may think me a fool, I listened to the utterances of beasts and varmints in mongrel proximity—the peeps, the grunts, the cries, and all manner of critter vociferations. What I learned was there were certain sounds that not only pacify the mongrels’ fury, but, moreover, will draw them to you, like skeeterbugs to a fire. I learned to imitate them sounds, and then I learned to utter them together in a particular concatenation, one which rouses the mongrels’ curiosity. Took a fair heap of practice. I don’t reckon you’re up to it.”

Desmond felt a wave of relief. This wasn’t a problem at all. For anyone else, maybe, but not for him. “I might surprise you, Reason. Let me hear the sounds you learned, the sounds that convinced the mongrels to listen to you. I’m a fast learner.”

Reason let out a brief, huffing laugh. “Steadfast as a bout of typhoid, ain’t you? Well, I’ll oblige you, though I figure nothing will come of it.” He cleared his throat, which made a sound like someone shaking a box of rocks. “It’s been some time, but there are particular things that defy all your efforts to forget them.” He cleared his throat again.

What came from Reason’s mouth next resembled no human language. Instead, it was a sequence of seemingly random animal grunts, huffs, yowls, and squawks. The sequence continued for at least ten seconds, ending with what sounded like the piercing yelp of a woodpecker called the yellow-shafted flicker.

The cave was silent for several long seconds.

“He is a mad old coot, sure as hellfire,” one of the ferals muttered.

Desmond closed his eyes. In his mind, he ran back over the sequence of sounds, committing them to memory using a trick he’d invented when he was four years old. He formed a mental picture of a creature that may have made each unique call. Whether the visualized creatures were real or accurate didn’t matter. It was the association of each sound to a distinct mental image that made the trick work. He then lined up the mental images in the order in which the corresponding sounds had been produced and formulated a brief, almost nonsensical story, a sequence of actions carried out by each creature. One creature biting the ear of the next, the second then flying off while dropping a turd on the head of the third, and so on. This memorization process took about twenty seconds.

Desmond opened his eyes. He repeated the sounds, doing his best to emulate Reason’s voice. When he was finished, he was pleased with the result but sure he could do better with a bit of practice.

Again the cave was silent.

Reason’s expression was hard to read. Perhaps it was fear, or maybe pity. He looked Desmond in the eye. “I was once a young ’un like you, of a mind to do whatever my ornery notions conjured up. But the mongrels… the mongrels will steal away your youth’s vigor like possums steal eggs. Your moral fiber will vanish, just like that, until they go to shittin’ it out, but by then you won’t want it back.”

14

Venomcrook

September 2 - 11:58 AM

Infinity stared at the refugees on the other side across the bridge-in site. The tension in the air was palpable. She stood with these nineteen refugees around the portion of the site’s perimeter not occupied by the mongrels’ bubble, ready to act the moment group thirteen arrived. There was no way to know exactly when that would be, but it had to be getting close.

The man directly across from Infinity was standing poised with his legs slightly bent, ready to jump into the midst of the new arrivals. The woman to his right was watching the ground before her and narrowed her eyes. She seemed calm, but her chest was heaving as if she’d just been running. The man to her right was holding his eyes closed, looking almost peaceful but for the fact that his lips were moving slightly as if he were giving himself a silent pep talk.

These were good people, ready to risk their lives, and Infinity was encouraged by their mettle. They were doing this because she had asked for volunteers. Perhaps these nineteen would inspire the others.

A blast of displaced air hit Infinity’s face, forcing her to blink. Twenty bodies appeared a split second later within the bridge-in site and dropped several inches to the ground. Infinity and the nineteen volunteers rushed forward, as they had rehearsed. Each picked a new arrival, threw one hand around to grasp the back of the person’s neck, and clamped the other hand over the person’s mouth.

But the new arrivals doubled over in their need to retch, closing the gaps between their bodies. Some volunteers had to push their way past others to get to the new arrivals in the center of the formation. One of the volunteers tripped, knocking over several others. Some of the newcomers cried out in alarm before their volunteers could reach them.

“What the hell are—” a man began to shout before being silenced.

Infinity heard the now-familiar splatter of a mongrel projectile hitting the man’s skin. She silently glared at the volunteers, hoping they’d remember what they’d trained to do in this scenario. And they did—they each gripped their chosen newcomer and forced the person to look them in the eye rather than watching the man who’d spoken. Infinity saw that the man was already buckling at his knees. Admirably, his handler, a woman in her forties, stayed with him, stifling his cries the best she could.

Infinity’s newcomer, a pale guy with wide, terrified eyes, tried to turn his head toward the source of the muffled screams. But Infinity forced him to look at her. Still gripping the back of his neck and covering his mouth, she waited for him to get past the worst of his retching and then began backing away from the bridge-in site, pulling him with her. The other volunteers were doing the same, and soon the entire group—except for the transforming man and his handler—had moved silently out of the bridge-in site.

Over the shoulder of the guy in her grip, Infinity saw the fallen man begin to writhe. And still his handler refused to release him, trying her best to keep him from panicking the other new arrivals.

Infinity continued guiding her newcomer through the forest until she could no longer see the mongrel bubble. Only then did she speak in a whisper. “Your life depends upon you staying silent. Do you understand?”

The man, still wide-eyed, nodded.

She released his neck and mouth and put a finger to her lips. She heard several other nearby volunteers whispering the same words to their newcomers. Your life depends upon you staying silent. Do you understand?

Soon all of the volunteers and their newcomers had joined the remaining refugees another fifty yards out from the bridge-in site. At this point, Oliver Hanley and several others took over. They took the newcomers aside from the other refugees and began orienting them to the nightmare they’d bridged into.

Infinity watched in the direction of the bridge-in site until one last refugee appeared, the woman who had stayed behind with the doomed newcomer.

The woman approached and stopped before Infinity. Her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying.

“That was damn impressive,” Infinity said. “You saved lives by keeping him quiet. What’s your name?”

The woman wiped her eyes. “Lottie.”

“You have my respect, Lottie. We have twenty-three more groups coming. Can I count on your help with them?”

Lottie pursed her lips and nodded. “He started changing shape, turning green. I couldn’t watch anymore—I left him there. I didn’t even know his name.”

“There was nothing you could have done.”

Lottie nodded again. But there was a vacant look in her eyes, as if she understood the hopelessness of their situation. She stepped over to join the others.

Infinity did another head count. She came up with 164. Since group thirteen had just arrived, there should have been 260. That meant that ninety-three had died or had gotten lost after fleeing the bridge-in site. Assuming Desmond, Arty, and Gretchen were still alive.

In spite of this appalling loss of people under her protection, her mind turned to Desmond. She had told him if he hadn’t returned by group thirteen’s arrival at noon, she would assume he was dead. But now that noon had come and gone, she wasn’t ready to make that assumption. In fact, she’d go looking for him if she had to.

Movement in the forest drew Infinity’s attention in the direction of the bridge-in site. Another figure was approaching. Seconds later the figure came into full view, walking on two feet and two hands. Infinity felt a rush of relief. It was Abel. She scanned the area around the musk monkey but didn’t see Desmond, Arty, or Gretchen. Her relief turned to alarm.

She looked at the approaching figure again, squinting. It wasn’t Abel. It had larger eyes, which were farther apart. Its forehead had more gray than Abel’s. But like Abel, it carried a venomcrook.

The creature stopped a few yards from Infinity and rose up onto its hind legs. It was definitely taller than Abel.

Several of the refugees were now standing at Infinity’s side, staring at the musk monkey.

Infinity wondered briefly if she should speak aloud but then decided to go ahead. “Who are you?”

For a moment the creature remained silent, gazing at her. “That is an interesting question. I’m not entirely sure. My memories seem to be… somewhat scrambled. What I am sure of is my purpose.”

“Okay, then what’s your purpose?”

The creature raised its weapon. “I wield this venomcrook in service of the mongrels. The mongrels have determined that you—all of you—are a threat to the natural state of this land. My purpose is to persuade you to go elsewhere, far from this bailiwick.”

Infinity took a deep breath, silently cursing Reece Eagleton for forcing the colony to bridge to this godforsaken world. “We can’t leave this area until the rest of our people get here. One day—in exactly one day, at noon tomorrow, the last of our people will arrive, and then we’ll leave. But not before.”

The musk monkey gazed at her without changing its expression. “Few things are clear to me at this moment. Who I am, for example, and why I have memories that make no sense to me. But my purpose is perfectly clear. I suppose that’s what matters.” The creature raised its weapon even higher. “This device is quite astounding. It can persuade people—people like you—with pain or with pleasure. But did you know it can be instructed to do other things? I can apply pressure to this area right here,” the creature pushed with its finger on what looked like an exposed tendon spanning the length of the weapon’s handle. “Just the right pressure will instruct the venomcrook to modify the substance administered by the claws. The venom, if you will.”

Infinity felt adrenaline starting to flow through her body. Her muscles tensed.

The musk monkey went on. “I received a rather cursory tutorial on this device’s functions mere minutes ago. The lesson was invigorating, but I believe some information was withheld, perhaps so that I could have the pleasure of experimentation. Well, no matter. I do know how the pleasure and pain functions work. And I do understand one other function.” It pushed on a particular area of the tendon near the top of the handle. “This configuration is perhaps the most useful. It will cause your bodies to transmogrify into creatures more suitable to the natural state of this land. I believe you have seen this work, have you not?”

“Please just leave us alone,” a woman near Infinity said. “We’re planning to leave tomorrow at noon.”

“My purpose is clear,” the creature repeated. It leapt at the woman without warning, striking her arm with the venomcrook. It then swung to the side with startling agility, striking a man’s shoulder.

Infinity rushed forward, dropped to the ground, and swung her leg around, knocking the musk monkey’s feet from under it.

The creature went down hard, but it rolled to its side and got to its feet in a blur. “For you, pain!” it cried, focusing for a split second on its venomcrook as it made an adjustment.

This distraction was enough for Infinity—she might get only one chance. She feigned the same sweeping kick, and as the musk monkey leapt back to avoid her leg, she drove the knuckles of her right hand into the creature’s throat. She felt the satisfying impact of a solid hit, strong enough to disable any human. The creature’s neck structure was apparently not that different because the musk monkey crumpled immediately. The venomcrook flew from its hand as it grasped for its throat, and two of the weapon’s claws nicked Infinity’s thigh.

She stared down at the scratches, each about an inch long. They were superficial, but a thin line of blood was forming along each cut.

“Oh, shit,” she muttered. With the musk monkey gasping and writhing on the ground beside her, she pressed her hands to her thigh on either side of the cuts, forcing out more blood, hoping to purge the venom. But it was too late. Pain spread from the wound, as if her tissue were burning from the inside. Within a few seconds it had expanded to her lower leg and up to her hip.

Infinity tried unsuccessfully to stifle a scream. She thought she had felt every kind of pain a person could feel. But this was beyond all of it. It was like the venom was seeking out every last nerve ending and abrading it with molten-hot sandpaper. Another involuntary scream erupted from deep within her.

Sensing she was about to lose control of her body and mind completely, she gritted her teeth and grabbed the venomcrook by its handle. For a moment, the growing pain in her abdomen made her forget why she’d wanted to pick it up. Digging deep for the willpower to focus, she crawled to the musk monkey and swung the weapon at the creature’s chest, puncturing its skin in at least a dozen spots. She then grabbed the loose skin of the creature’s face with her other hand and forced it to look at her.

“You—” Involuntary spasms in her throat interrupted her words as tormented moans rose from within her. Dark, colorless clouds began to obscure her vision. She grunted and pulled harder on the musk monkey’s face. “You feel that pain, motherfucker?”

The creature started moaning desperately, and its hands moved from its crushed throat to its chest.

Infinity continued gripping its cheek while holding the venomcrook inches from its face. “Show me what to do with this to make it stop! Show me, and I’ll stop your pain too.”

The creature’s mouth opened, emitting a totally alien, warbling cry.

“Show me!” Infinity screamed, slamming the creature’s head against the ground.

One of its lower hands shot up to the venomcrook’s handle, and its long fingers encircled Infinity’s grip on the weapon.

She blinked several times, trying to force away the clouds from her vision. The musk monkey’s finger pressed against the lengthwise tendon, sliding it to the side once, twice, and then a third time. The creature pulled its hand away and tried to say something, but only tortured grunts came out.

Infinity released the creature’s face and swung the weapon at its chest again. But its chest was covered by its four hands, so for good measure she struck its belly. She rolled away a few feet and tried to focus her attention on the musk monkey. Her arms and legs were now jerking involuntarily, and inhuman sounds were escaping her mouth with each violent jerk. She lost her grip on the venomcrook, and it fell to the ground.

It was too late. She could barely see the musk monkey to know whether its pain had been reversed, and she could no longer control her fingers anyway. She cried out, “Kill me!”

“Infinity, do you want me to hit you with it?” The woman’s voice seemed distant, and all Infinity could see now was clouds.

“Do it!” she screamed.

Something hit her thigh, just a light tap, barely detectable in the burning ocean of torment. Abruptly, the pain started to fade. A soothing numbness began spreading until her thigh no longer burned. But the numbness didn’t last. It blossomed from a simple lack of pain into a pleasurable sensation. The sensation spread, until half her body tingled with pleasure while the other half still burned. The physical clash of the two nearly broke Infinity, and blinding flashes of light filled her vision even though her eyes were closed.

The pleasure continued spreading, overtaking the last remnants of pain and becoming a full-blown, toe-curling explosion of bliss. Infinity allowed it to take her away, no longer caring about anything else.

She had no idea how long the feeling lasted, but suddenly she realized it was coming to an end. She opened her eyes. Naked refugees stared down at her. They were ugly and colorless, and she didn’t want to see their faces anymore. She saw the venomcrook in someone’s hand, and she reached out for it. The colorless idiot gave it to her, and she immediately flicked her wrist, puncturing her skin again.

The euphoria returned, and this time it had no pain to overcome. Infinity curled up and shut out the rest of the universe.

When she again opened her eyes, the ugly refugees were still there. Why didn’t they just leave her alone? Another flick of her wrist—back to the pleasure.

“Infinity!”

She moaned, trying desperately to cling to the last remnants of tingling euphoria.

“Infinity, it’s me, Desmond. What happened?”

“Rapture’s what happened,” another voice said.

Infinity remembered that voice. It was that goddamn green monkey, Abel. She flicked her wrist again, but this time nothing happened. She opened her eyes.

People were gathered around her, staring. And then she saw it—the venomcrook. It was in Desmond’s hand. The son of a bitch was holding it at his side like he owned the damn thing.

She got to her feet. “Give me that!”

He stepped back, taking it with him. “I think you’ve had enough,” he said.

Infinity kicked him in the head. Her heel struck exactly where she’d aimed, just above the bastard’s right ear. He went down, dropping the venomcrook.

She dove for it before anyone else could steal it from her, rolled onto her back, and dosed herself again.

15

Restraint

September 2 - 12:41 PM

White noise was all Desmond heard. Gradually, the noise began to recede, like a slow-motion wave on a beach. Then there were voices.

“Get it away from her!”

“I’m not touching that thing. You get it.”

Desmond opened his eyes. The light sent a piercing pain through his skull. He rubbed his temple. Damn, it hurt. Abruptly, he remembered why. Infinity had kicked him—hard.

He sat up, groaning. A few yards away lay the still body of a musk monkey. It appeared to be dead.

“Rapture madness, it’s called,” Abel said in his warbling voice. “I reckon she’s beyond help now. Best to go on and transfigure her into harmless varmints.”

Abel stepped toward Infinity’s body, which was lying on the ground near the dead musk monkey. Abel tweaked something on the handle of its venomcrook, then leaned in to strike her prone body.

“No!” Desmond tried to shout, but it came out garbled.

Abel paused. “I seen this before. If it don’t kill her like it did that poor soul,” he pointed to the dead musk monkey, “it’ll turn her brain to mud. It ain’t pretty. Best to transfigure her.”

Desmond got to his feet and staggered toward the body. “No! Don’t touch her.”

Infinity was on her side, eyes closed. Her lips were pressed together. Her chest heaved, forcing a long, heavy breath through her nose. She was still gripping the venomcrook’s handle. Desmond carefully pulled it from her for the second time. Her fingers twitched, but otherwise she didn’t react.

Desmond held the weapon out to Abel. “You take this. I don’t want it anywhere near her.”

Abel took it without replying. The creature then went to a nearby tree and effortlessly climbed to its branches. He wrapped his tail around a limb and suspended himself. “She ain’t gonna be happy,” he said.

Infinity began to stir. She opened and closed her fingers, feeling for the venomcrook. A growl came from deep in her chest.

Desmond kneeled beside her. “Gretchen, Arty, help me restrain her.”

Desmond and Gretchen each took one of her arms while Arty held her feet.

“If she’s going to start yelling again, you may want to move her even farther from the mongrels,” a woman said. “They have been killing anyone who speaks. We may have lost as many as ninety.”

Desmond looked up at the woman. “Ninety?”

Infinity groaned and tried pulling her hand from Desmond’s grip.

There was no time now for questions. Desmond scanned the area. About seventy yards farther from the mongrel bubble was a slope that led into a creek-bed ravine. Perhaps it would help dampen the sound.

He and Gretchen pulled Infinity to a sitting position. Desmond got behind her and grasped her under her armpits, locking his hands together over her chest. “You two grab her feet.”

Infinity started struggling as they lifted her. Together they began carrying her to the ravine, trying to hold her thrashing limbs.

“Where is it?” Infinity cried. “Goddammit, give it to me!”

They made their way down the slope. At the steep, six-foot ravine, Desmond backed over the edge, still holding Infinity’s chest. Arty and Gretchen lowered her legs over and then let go.

Infinity kicked wildly, trying to turn on Desmond. “I’ll kill you! Where is it? Give it to me!”

He held her as tight as he could as Arty and Gretchen slid down into the ravine, and together they pinned her to the ground.

“Infinity, listen to me,” Desmond said, trying to keep his tone soft. “We have a job to do, and you need to snap out of it. Do you understand?”

She continued to fight, nearly pulling from his grip.

“Stop fighting,” Gretchen said. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Infinity stopped moving, although her muscles remained contracted like knotted cables. Eyes wide, she said, “Desmond! Please. Just give it to me, okay? I really need it.”

“If you have any more, it might kill you, Infinity.”

Her eyes were full of incredulity, as if she couldn’t believe he’d willingly do something so cruel. Sweat was running into her eyes, but she didn’t try to blink it away. “I have to have it, Desmond. You don’t understand. I have to!”

He looked at her without responding, wondering if she was right. Would she actually die without the venomcrook? He had no idea, but it seemed she was more likely to die if she kept dosing herself with whatever was in the damn thing. He needed to know for sure. “Abel!” he shouted. “I need your help.”

Infinity’s muscles relaxed slightly. “Does Abel have it? Is he bringing it?”

Desmond didn’t reply.

Abel appeared at the ravine’s crest. “I’ve been told that affairs here have gone belly-up. Seems the mongrels have had enough of your herd’s yapping. It caused quite the fracas, it seems. Can’t say I’m sorry I missed it. Bound to get worse soon.”

“Desmond, tell him to give it to me,” Infinity said. She was staring at Abel, who was still holding the extra venomcrook. “Please. Make him give it to me.”

“She says she needs the venomcrook,” Desmond said to Abel. “What will happen if we don’t give it to her?”

Abel gazed down from above. The blackness of his eyes made it hard to tell who he was looking at. “Rapture does different mischief to different folks.”

“Will it kill her if she has too much?”

“Ain’t no doubt of that,” the creature said. “Of course, it might also do her in to have such a powerful hankering for it. Hard to say. I heard you conversing with that feral musk monkey, Resilience. Said he’d taken one too many pricks from the venomcrook, did he not? And yet, there he stood, just as alive as you or me.”

Desmond turned to Infinity.

Her desperate gaze flicked from Abel to meet his eyes.

“You’re too important to me, Infinity. I’m not ready to lose you. We can’t let you have—”

She spat in his face. “You son of a bitch! Make him give it to me or I’ll kill you!” She grunted, thrashing with all her strength, trying to break free.

Desmond had to straddle her arm to keep from losing control of it. Gretchen and Arty had to do the same, Gretchen on her other arm, Arty on her legs.

“Goddammit, let me up!”

Desmond saw a flash of green out of the corner of his eye. Abel was now at his side, and before Desmond could process what was happening, the creature hit Infinity’s belly with one of the venomcrooks.

“What are you doing?” Desmond cried.

Abel ignored him as Infinity stopped thrashing. She turned and looked at Desmond, no longer wide-eyed with fury. She blinked, and then her face went completely slack, eyes half open.

Desmond stared at her. “Infinity?”

“Considering recent calamitous affairs ’round here,” said Abel, “that woman’s yammering ain’t helping matters.”

“What’d you do to her?”

Abel held out one of the venomcrooks. “Rarely have I a need for other means of motivation besides rapture or pain. Hope I done it right.”

“What did you do?”

“I reckon she’ll rest a spell. Not too long though. Didn’t want to overdo it. I recommend you restrain her before she wakes. She’s a dad-blamed wildcat if ever I saw one.”

Desmond realized he wasn’t breathing and sucked in some air. “You mean she’s only sleeping?” He moved his hand to her wrist. He felt a strong pulse.

“She ain’t dead, if that’s what’s concerning you,” Abel said. “She’ll wake soon enough. I got tasks to attend to, and they ain’t ones I’m licking my lips over. If you don’t see me again, it’s because the mongrels have rendered me into the varmints from whence I came.” The musk monkey scrambled up the side of the ravine and then turned to look back. “You and your herd, you’re the most interesting state of affairs old Abel’s been a witness to. Come tomorrow, I hope you’re still you.” The creature then turned and left.

Desmond, Gretchen, and Arty turned and stared at each other.

“We need a better way to restrain her,” Arty said, nodding down at Infinity, “or she’s going to kill someone.”

* * *

5:12 PM

Desmond sighed. He dropped the grass fibers he’d been weaving and reached for Infinity’s neck to check her pulse. Still good and strong. It had been hours. Why wasn’t she waking up?

For perhaps the hundredth time, he checked the woven ropes he’d tied around her ankles. Then he went behind the small tree she was tied to and checked the ropes on her wrists.

Arty, Gretchen, and four other refugees had volunteered to hold Infinity down in case she awoke while Desmond worked on the ropes. Infinity had taught him to weave surprisingly strong rope from plant fibers on his first bridging excursion, which seemed like ages ago. Now that skill would help him prevent her from killing herself. Or from killing him.

He went back to working on the half-woven bundle of stems. He already had plenty of rope to keep her securely tied, but it couldn’t hurt to have extra. Besides, the work helped to keep his mind off the fact that she might never wake up, as well as the nightmare this colony’s situation had become.

Gretchen and another woman appeared at the top of the six-foot ravine a few yards away. “Group eighteen has arrived,” Gretchen said, keeping her voice low. “We lost two colonists this time. Couldn’t get to them in time to keep them from yelling. It took the mongrels all of half a second to target them. Nothing we could do.”

Desmond felt overwhelmed by guilt. He knew he should go to the mongrels and try to reason with them. But he wasn’t ready to leave Infinity’s side. Plus, the thought of confronting the mongrels was absolutely terrifying. One wrong move and they’d kill him. Or transform him into wild animals. Regardless of what happened with Infinity, he’d have to initiate some kind of dialogue with the mongrels soon, even if doing so was suicide. It might be the colony’s only hope.

“This is Lottie,” Gretchen said, putting her hand on the other woman’s elbow. “She’s a doctor. Would you like her to look at Infinity?”

“Please,” Desmond said. “I thought she’d be awake by now.”

Lottie made her way down into the ravine. “Actually, I used to be an orthopedic surgeon. I resigned four years ago when I got married.”

Rich husband, Desmond thought. But he didn’t comment, as he was too tired to feel much like having a conversation.

Lottie kneeled down next to Infinity and felt her neck and forehead, looked in her mouth, pried open her eyes, and felt her pulse. Then she sat back and sighed. “Her heart rate and body temperature seem normal, considering these… conditions. To be honest, with no equipment, I can’t really—”

Infinity coughed three times, shooting spittle onto Lottie’s face. Infinity then opened her eyes and blinked, obviously disoriented. She found Desmond and focused on him. “What…?”

Desmond put a hand on her shoulder. “You okay? I was getting pretty worried.”

She moaned and tried to move her arms. Realizing she couldn’t, she frowned and moaned again. “God, it hurts.”

“Infinity, my name’s Lottie. Remember me? We talked earlier. Can you tell me where it hurts?”

Infinity, her eyes slightly askew, looked at Lottie. “I don’t… oh, shit. Something’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong, hon? Tell me what you’re feeling.”

Infinity closed her eyes and then threw her head back, smacking the tree behind her. She dropped her head forward and did it again, this time harder. “I need it. I need the venomcrook.”

Lottie exchanged a glance with Desmond.

Infinity hit her head again. “Where is it?”

Desmond put his hand between her head and the tree’s trunk. “Infinity, please. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

She slammed her head twice in quick succession, nearly crushing the bones in his hand.

“Infinity, stop!” He gripped her head with both hands.

She growled and tried to bite him, forcing him to withdraw. She started slamming her head against the tree over and over. “Where is it? Where is it? Goddammit, give it to me!” She kicked her feet and arched her back, trying to pull away from the tree.

Desmond could see that the back of Infinity’s scalp was already mashed and bloody. He got behind the tree, reached around, and held her head tight against the trunk to stop her from killing herself.

Gretchen slid down the slope and threw herself onto Infinity’s legs.

The ropes were starting to cut into Infinity’s wrists and ankles, but at least they were holding her securely.

Infinity continued thrashing and fighting. Her skin was now drenched with sweat. After what seemed like at least ten minutes, Desmond began to wonder how much longer her body could keep going at this intensity. Gradually, she slowed down, and then she relaxed.

“You’re killing me,” she said. “Do you understand? You’re killing me!” She went back to fighting. But after a few minutes, her limbs began shaking, showing signs of fatigue. A sob escaped her lips, followed by another minute or two of weakened thrashing. Finally she seemed to be finished.

Still behind her, Desmond couldn’t see her face, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He’d never seen her cry, but she was sobbing so hard her entire body was shaking.

He released her head, and it dropped, hanging loosely above her chest. He crawled around to her side and sat, watching her. He heard Gretchen and Lottie sit back on the ground and whisper to each other.

The sobbing slowed down and then stopped. Infinity’s chest heaved as air rushed in and out through her nose.

“You going to be okay?” Desmond asked quietly.

She raised her head. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her face was covered with a mixture of sweat and tears. “I’m okay now, Desmond.”

He gazed at her face. Her eyes were still slightly askew.

“I’m better now,” she said. “You can let me go. I won’t hurt myself.”

Desmond continued studying her. He wanted—no, needed—her to be okay.

“Look at my ankles,” she said. “And my wrists. The ropes are hurting me. Let me go, okay? You can let me go now.”

He sighed. “When we bridge back we’ll get something to treat those cuts. But right now I don’t think it’s safe to let you go.”

Without warning she slammed her head back into the tree and started thrashing again.

* * *

8:39 PM

Something was touching the top of Desmond’s head. Fingers, massaging his bare scalp. He snapped his head up, disoriented. It was darker now. The last thing he remembered was watching through the forest canopy as the sky had turned orange and then faded to black.

A figure standing over him withdrew its hand. In spite of the darkness, Desmond knew it was a musk monkey by the oily garlic smell.

“Abel?”

“The one and only,” the warbling voice replied.

Desmond wiped his eyes and squinted up at the creature. He then looked over at Infinity. He could only make out her pale outline in the darkness, but he could tell she was slumped over, asleep. He crawled to her and put a hand on her arm. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake.

“Where have you been, Abel? What’s going on?”

“Been fretting a bit, stewing a bit more, and agonizing a fair share for good measure. Been off to see the herd. Those folks are agitated, to say the least. Also been to the mongrels. They anticipate witnessing a fracas come feeding time tomorrow. And do you know whose job it is to preside over said fracas?”

Desmond waited. Apparently Abel expected him to reply. “Yours?”

“Indeed. As interesting as all this ruckus might be, I’ve a mind to go and join the ferals.”

“The mongrels want us to fight the painted people?”

Abel gazed at him for a moment. “The fracas is gonna happen whether they want it or not. You’ve seen the wild land. You know full and well that your herd can’t live there. You have to seize this bailiwick. You know it and I know it. My job is to see to it the fracas takes place near the mongrels’ domicile, as they enjoy bearing witness to such disputations.”

“The mongrels only provide for a herd of 250,” Desmond said.

“True enough. But sustenance for 250 beats no sustenance at all.”

Desmond stared at the creature for a moment. “How do you communicate with the mongrels?”

Abel stepped forward and then sat on the ground. Desmond heard the creature’s tail snaking its way into a coil around its butt. “Why do you ask that?”

Desmond couldn’t think of any reason to lie. “Because I want to talk to them. I want to convince them to provide enough sustenance for our entire colony to live here. I’m responsible for this colony’s survival.”

The musk monkey gazed at him silently for what seemed like minutes. “I reckon you spoke with the feral named Reason. I figured as much after you followed them ferals into their cave.”

“Reason taught me what he had learned, how to get the mongrels to listen to him.”

“He’s a mad old codger. Ain’t been right in the head since the mongrels took him in to have a meeting of the minds. Problem was, his mind didn’t hold up.”

“Is it possible for me to talk to the mongrels?” Desmond asked.

“Take a good look at yourself. You ain’t built for it! Why do you think mongrels keep us musk monkeys around? Because we’re suited to the job of serving the mongrels. Have been since the beginning of time. Mongrels need us as much as we need them.”

“Then talk to them for me,” Desmond said. “You can convince them to help.”

“I’ll do no such thing! You know why I’m still me? Because I know better, that’s why. If you wanna go to them mongrels and have them suck the wits from your head or transfigure you into dung beetles, you go right ahead. It ain’t gonna stop the fracas they’re hankering to witness.”

Desmond glanced over at Infinity’s sleeping form. He knew that she would do anything to save the colony, regardless of the risk to her own safety. “I have to try,” he said.

“Chances are, you’ll raise the mongrels’ hackles just by attempting it. However, if by some confounded miracle they grant you an audience, remember this: it ain’t gonna be nothing like you thought it might. If you go to gettin’ agitated or losing your nerve, it’ll be over for your sorry carcass.”

Desmond sighed. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He paused. “So, what will it be like?”

The musk monkey let out a grunt and then got to its feet. “I ain’t got all night to explain what can’t be explained.” The creature held something out—a venomcrook. “You want this back? More rapture will likely kill that woman, but dying by rapture is a far cry better than what she’s going through.”

Desmond considered it. “No. I’d prefer never to see one of those again.”

Abel withdrew the weapon. “Never in my days… goodness gracious, ain’t you a conundrum.”

The creature climbed the slope and disappeared.

16

Darkness

September 2 - 11:51 PM

Infinity blinked. It was dark. When had it gotten dark? The forest was quiet except for a few whippoorwills calling in the distance. The back of her head hurt like hell. And so did everything else. She blinked again. She felt something pressing against her shoulder, holding her upright. It was a body, leaning against her. The body smelled of sweat, but it was a familiar, comforting smell. Desmond’s smell.

“You should know better than to sit this close to me,” she said.

His head popped, thumping the tree trunk behind them, reminding Infinity of the cause of the pain in her own head.

“Infinity, you’re awake!” He moved a few feet away from her.

“I could have torn your ear off with my teeth.”

“But you didn’t. I’ll take that as a good sign.”

She tried to read his expression, but the darkness shrouded it. “If I asked you to untie me now, would you?”

“Um, I don’t know. I’d need to talk to you for a few minutes first.”

She leaned her head back against the tree, eliciting another painful reminder of the damage she’d done. “Good. You shouldn’t let me go. Not yet.”

“Are you okay?”

She considered how to respond. “I don’t know. Do you have the venomcrook with you?”

“Abel offered it to me, but I didn’t want it near you.”

“Probably for the best. I’m craving the shit out of it.” Just thinking about it made her skin come alive with anticipation. She shook her head, trying to drive away the desire.

“At least you’re not kicking and screaming.”

She snorted a brief laugh, surprising herself. “I don’t suppose an apology is going to cut it.”

He scooted closer and put a hand on her knee.

Briefly she wondered if it would be possible to grip his hand between her legs, twist it into a submission hold, and refuse to let go until he called out for Abel to come and give her the venomcrook. She rolled her leg, pushing his hand away. “Don’t! Not yet. The way I feel right now, I could turn on you any second. There’s a goddamn war going on in my head.”

He sat back. “Understood.”

A wave of panic radiated from her gut, and she closed her eyes to suppress it. She tried swallowing, but her mouth was too dry. How long had it been since she’d had water?

“Infinity?”

She opened her eyes but didn’t reply.

“I thought I’d really lost you this time,” Desmond said.

“Yeah.”

He put his hand back on her knee, and again she had to fight the compulsion to turn on him. But this time she didn’t push it away.

“If we make it to bridge-back,” he said, “I think we should do what Armando suggested. We should go ahead and bridge out with colony ST6. Without the radioisotope marker. I don’t think we’ll get another chance. We’re lucky we’ve even made it this far.”

Infinity had been focusing on suppressing her desire for rapture, but hearing him say those words at this moment nearly made her forget the venomcrook entirely.

“We’ve done our share,” Desmond said. “We’ve done almost everything in our power to help two colonies survive. And we can help colony ST6. But someone else can help ST7, if they even get the chance to bridge.”

Infinity frowned at him, although he probably couldn’t see it. “Why’d you say almost everything?” There was something about the way he had uttered those words, like he was bothered by their meaning.

He hesitated before answering. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet. The wild land isn’t an option for the colony. The people living there, the ferals, they’re starving. They barely scrape enough food together to survive the winter, and only enough to sustain small groups. The land simply doesn’t provide enough for them, and the mongrels don’t allow them to farm or use tools. The ferals live in caves like animals because they’re not allowed to construct shelters of any kind.”

Infinity struggled to process this. Her desire for rapture was starting to surge again—with a vengeance. “Damn, that’s disappointing. So tell me what you think we haven’t tried yet.”

Again he hesitated. “I’ve been thinking about this. Most of the mongrel bailiwicks provide food for only a few hundred people, and Abel told me many of them don’t even allow a hundred. The refugees could split up and try to take over multiple bailiwicks. But the existing herds would still fight for their lives to keep them. I have doubts about whether our people could successfully drive them away. It would get ugly.”

Infinity was in too much pain to be patient. “You going to tell me your idea or not?”

“I think the colony’s only hope is to convince the mongrels to provide enough food for all of them.”

Infinity waited for him to go on.

“I’m going to talk to the mongrels,” he said.

“How the hell are you going to do that?”

“I met a feral who has done it before. The guy taught me what I need to do to get them to listen.”

She gazed at his barely-visible face. “The mongrels are dangerous. They’ve been killing refugees, maybe over a hundred now. Just for speaking.”

“Yeah, so I’ve been told.”

“What makes you think they won’t kill you?”

“Are you trying to talk me out of it?”

She considered this. Was she? Probably. Damn, her head hurt. She tried to focus. “Do you honestly think you have a chance?”

He shrugged. “I’ve learned a lot from you, Passerina. If this is the only chance the refugees have, then I don’t have a choice.”

Infinity decided she liked it when he called her by her real name. “My name’s Infinity. You can call me Passerina when we get to our new home with colony ST6.”

* * *

September 3 - 3:23 AM

Infinity awoke again as Desmond shifted his weight. Even though her back had been killing her, she had fallen asleep again—apparently the trauma from the rapture ordeal had forced her body to shut down.

“Desmond?” she whispered.

“Yeah, I’m awake.”

“You can untie me now.”

He rolled to his side and studied her. “The venomcrook is gone. I gave it to Abel, and he said he’d destroy it. How does that make you feel?”

She smiled. “Nice job. That’s exactly the kind of thing I’d ask if our roles were reversed.”

“You haven’t answered the question.”

She sighed. At least he was being careful. “Okay. Am I one-hundred-percent past the effects of the venomcrook? No. My head hurts, and every muscle feels like I just ran a marathon in medieval armor. But the last thing I want is another dose of rapture. I’m cognizant enough to get how dangerous it is. I’ve never lost control of myself like that before.”

“And how do you feel about me?”

She stared through the darkness at his face. Then she realized what he was getting at. “Yeah, I probably said some things. I don’t really remember, but I can imagine. I feel… like I’m lucky you’re my bridging partner.” Goddammit, that was lame.

Desmond continued watching her silently.

Infinity knew she should say more. If ever there was a time to put her feelings into words, this was it. “Look, I have some fuzzy memories of what I said and did to you. I was an asshole. If I could undo it, I would. You know you’re more than just a partner to me. I’ve had plenty of partners, but I’ve never… you know.”

“Are you trying to say you’re falling in love with me?”

“Are you trying to make me say it?”

He may have smiled, but it was hard to tell. “Do you want to say it?”

“Jesus, who’s being an asshole now?”

He huffed out a laugh. “I think you were right. It’s safe to untie you.” He started working on the knots at her ankles.

“I’m not like you, Desmond,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve met your mom. I know what kind of life you’ve lived. But you don’t know anything about me. I don’t… I don’t really know what love is, or what it should feel like.”

One of the knots came undone, and he removed the first rope. “I understand.”

“I don’t think you really do.”

He pulled another knot loose and then paused. “This is new to me, too. I’ve had a few girlfriends. But this desire to spend my last remaining time with you, even knowing I might die tonight? How could my life—which you say is so different from yours—have prepared me for that? Maybe we’re both just trying to figure this out as we go.” He quickly unwrapped the second rope and set it aside. He caressed the area around the torn skin on her ankles. “You’re going to need antibiotics when you bridge back.”

“Stop talking like you’re not going back with me. If you really think speaking to the mongrels is a suicide mission, don’t do it.”

He moved behind the tree and started on her wrists. “I’m tired of losing refugees. And we’re out of options.” The knots loosened quickly, freeing her wrists. He moved a few yards to the side and crouched, watching her.

Good—he was still being cautious.

“Relax, I’m not going to attack you,” she said. She inspected her wrists and then stretched her arms and shoulders, working out several kinks. “How far are we from the refugees?”

“Maybe seventy-five yards. There should be about 560 now, minus all those the mongrels have killed and those that have run away and not returned.”

“When do you think you’ll try to speak with the mongrels?”

He moved closer but remained in a crouched position, ready to move quickly if necessary. “Soon. Before daybreak. Definitely before the painted herd comes to feed.”

She held her hand out and waited until he took it. “Then there’s something I want you to do first.” She pulled him closer.

“Are you serious?”

“Damn right I’m serious, especially if you’re going to die in the next few hours.”

He sat beside her and ran his hand up her arm to her neck. “You know we’re both covered with sweat and muck, right?”

Instead of answering, she pushed him to the ground and climbed on top of him.

As they kissed, his hand roamed down her body.

“Wait,” she said, grabbing his hand. “This isn’t happening until I take a pee.”

17

Mongrels

September 3 - 4:58 AM

As Desmond and Infinity watched, group thirty appeared and dropped to the ground, illuminated by the purple glow of the mongrels’ looming bubble. Twenty volunteers rushed in with practiced efficiency, each grabbing a newcomer and clamping their hands over the their mouth, not only silencing them but also preventing them from falling into a floundering heap. The volunteers then kneeled beside them, hands still clamped over their mouths, as the newcomers doubled over with dry heaves. Within a minute, the newcomers had recovered and again stood upright. Without a single casualty, the volunteers led them away to join the other refugees.

Only Desmond and Infinity remained. Now, in the bubble’s glow, Desmond could see the true extent of Infinity’s self-abuse. Blood vessels had burst in her eyes, turning portions of the whites to a red that looked black in the purple light. Bruises and scratches covered the back of her body, especially her head. But at least she seemed to be past the rapture madness that had possessed her for so many hours.

Desmond pointed to a spot on the ground about ten yards from the mongrel bubble, silently telling Infinity he wanted her to stand there. She shook her head and glared at him, making it clear again that she thought this was a bad idea.

But she didn’t try to stop him, which Desmond took to mean she understood this was important enough to take the risk.

Desmond tried to smile but doubted it looked very convincing. His smile faded as he turned away from her and approached the bubble’s membrane. He stood transfixed by the mostly-clear fluid within. He saw movement. Suspended particles swirled in small eddies as something nearly invisible propelled itself closer to him. Another amorphous figure moved in and positioned itself beside the first. The two mongrels hovered in the fluid, moving slightly every second or so, the only evidence they were still there.

Soon a third shape appeared beside the first two. Desmond definitely had their attention. Now all he had to do was convince them to actually listen to him.

He held out his right hand, his palm inches from the membrane. Disturbances in the fluid just on the other side indicated one of the mongrels had moved some part of its body to the same spot. Desmond thought of Gavin’s horrific transformation into a deer. Was he seconds away from a similar fate?

He visualized the sequence of images he’d used to memorize Reason’s verbalizations. He opened his mouth and uttered the sounds, which wasn’t difficult—the sequence was made up of only eight separate sounds. Desmond had no idea what creatures had originally made some of the sounds, but he was sure of three: a deer’s wheezing snort, a fox’s screech, and a flicker’s yelp. He had practiced several times a good distance from the mongrels and was confidant he’d done a decent job of mimicking Reason’s impressions. When he was finished, he watched the mongrels for signs of a reaction.

The fluid near his outstretched palm swirled as something moved. Then the membrane itself bulged outward several inches. Desmond had to pull his hand back to avoid contact. The bulge in the bubble remained, as if waiting. Was this an invitation to touch the membrane? This seemed like the most logical explanation. But touching the bubble hadn’t ended well for Gavin.

Still, the bulge remained.

Desmond took a breath and pressed his palm against it. The surface felt like a water balloon coated with vaseline, and it was warm to the touch.

His heart pounding, he repeated the sequence of sounds, in case the mongrels hadn’t gotten his intent the first time.

His hand suddenly passed through the membrane up to the wrist. Something warm and solid closed around his fingers and gently pulled. In the fluid he could see nothing but slight distortions near his skin, but something was definitely pulling him. Within seconds his arm was in past the elbow.

And he hadn’t been transformed into an animal.

This was it. This was what he had been hoping for. But now he felt panic take hold of him. He turned to look at Infinity. She was staring, her brows furrowed with concern. But then her head tilted down in a simple nod.

That nod was all Desmond needed to solidify his resolve. Although Infinity would be powerless to help if things went south, at least she had acknowledged he was doing what had to be done.

Desmond was now in up to his shoulder. The side of his body was pressed against the membrane, which seemed to be dissolving at the touch of his skin. He turned away from the bubble and took a deep breath as it began engulfing his head.

Within seconds he was inside the bubble, eyes closed, suspended in thick, warm fluid.

The mongrels were still holding his right hand, but now they grabbed and began pulling his left hand, as well as both his legs. He opened his eyes, but all he could see was blurry purple fluid. The mongrels were pulling him toward the center of the bubble, away from the membrane and the life-sustaining air beyond it.

His lungs started burning for air, and within seconds the pain became unbearable. He started struggling, trying to get back to the outer membrane. But the mongrels held tight.

“Breathe.”

He stopped struggling. He’d heard the voice clearly, in spite of the fact that his ears were filled with fluid.

His lungs were burning, and he began struggling again. He was drowning.

“Breathe.”

The fluid pressed against his skin, against his nose and mouth. There was no air to breathe. The mongrels were toying with him. Instead of turning him into a creature, they would hold him inside their bubble and watch him drown. He felt himself try to scream as he fought to break their hold on him.

“Breathe.”

His whole body felt like it was on fire. He needed air now.

Something gripped his face and tried to force his mouth open.

He twisted and jerked. But it was too late. He didn’t even know which direction the outer membrane was. His brain relinquished control and his body forced a dying gasp for air. Warm fluid gushed into his mouth and filled his lungs, and he spasmed wildly with panic. He tried to cough but only sucked in more fluid.

He heaved over and over, trying to purge the fluid. But each heave only brought more fluid into his lungs.

Desmond’s mind began to clear. He wasn’t dead. In fact, the burning in his lungs was subsiding. He sucked in more fluid and then forced it out. In again and then out. In spite of the horrifying sensation of breathing liquid, he began to relax.

The mongrels released their grip on his legs and his left hand, now holding him only by his right hand.

He sucked in fluid, forced it out. In and out. The fluid was apparently loaded with oxygen, keeping him alive.

“From whence did you come?” It was the same voice, and the words were loud and clear, but obviously not spoken with sound waves.

Desmond tried to speak but only managed to move fluid in and out of his lungs. His vocal chords apparently needed air to function.

“Converse with your wits, not your mouth.”

With his wits? What was that supposed to mean? Desmond squinted but could only see the purple fluid surrounding him.

“Concoct your words with your wits. Cogitate them such as you wish to speak them. We ask you again, from whence did you come?”

Desmond tried to think, still struggling with the strange sensation of breathing liquid. He concentrated and formed a series of words, silently moving his lips as he focused on the sounds each word would make. “Do. You. Understand. This?”

“We understand. From whence did you come?”

Desmond let out a silent, astonished laugh. They were actually understanding his projected thoughts. He tried forming words more smoothly. “We came from a different version of this world. An alternate timeline.”

“Yes. How’d you learn to do such a thing?”

Desmond could see no harm in being honest. “We discovered a radio signal transmitted through space from a distant civilization. The signal had instructions for building a machine that would allow us to do this. But the machine is destroying our world. We came to this world to avoid the destruction of our species. But today you have killed many of our people. I’m here to ask you to help us.”

Seconds passed without a response. The force gripping his right hand tightened slightly.

“You seek our help. But we know nothing of who you are.”

“What do you want to know?” Desmond waited for an answer, sucking fluid into his lungs more easily now.

“Who you are, who you ain’t, who you wish to be, and who you fear becomin’.”

Desmond tried to make sense of this. He was about to ask for clarification when the glowing fluid around him vanished.

He looked around, startled. He was in a darkened room. Light from a streetlamp entered through window blinds to his right. Red numbers on a digital clock glowed on a dresser to his left, reading 5:16 AM. He was lying in a bed. He had never seen this bed, but somehow he knew it was his. And the woman sleeping beside him was his wife. He’d met her in college and had married her seven years ago. Her name was Jess, and their three-year-old, Emma, was in the bedroom on the other side of the hall. He loved them both dearly, and a feeling of contentment swelled within him as he realized he’d been having a disturbing nightmare.

The bedroom disappeared suddenly.

Desmond looked around again, and again he found himself in bed in a darkened room. A different clock was visible, this one on the opposite side of the room. It said 5:16 AM. A warm, salty breeze drifted in through an open window.

“What’s wrong, babe?” The voice came from a woman beside him. Her name was Marta. They’d met when he was on a study trip to Costa Rica, and he had moved from the U.S. to be with her. They’d been living together here at the south end of Playa Hermosa for almost three years.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just a bad dream, I think.”

The room disappeared.

Desmond was staring at a television that was silently playing an old episode of Lost. A radio was on somewhere, with several people talking about earthquakes, rising death tolls, and a government that didn’t seem to care. Desmond’s left hand held a yellow plastic cup with ice and a few remaining sips of Jim Beam, but he knew the half-empty bottle was waiting for him on the counter in the kitchen. He touched his phone to check the time—5:16 AM. He’d been up all night. One last good bender. And why the hell not? He was going to die soon. And it wasn’t like he gave a shit about his job. He looked down at the table in front of him. Between an unfinished plate of spaghetti and the TV remote with dead batteries was his Ruger LCP .380 pistol. Tonight was the night he’d finally use it to put an end to all this. To hell with waiting for the world to implode. But first he’d have another drink.

The TV, table, and pistol disappeared, along with the racking despair.

Desmond was in his bunk room at SafeTrek. He was sitting on the floor with his legs crossed, staring at his phone on the floor in front of him. Glowing numbers on the phone said 5:16 AM. He’d placed it there as a focal point. Weeks ago, Infinity had tried to teach him the meditative state called Mokuso. But now he was having trouble focusing. His chest heaved involuntarily a few times, and he had to close his eyes to fight off a full-blown sob session. If Infinity were here, she’d have kicked his ass for letting his emotions get in the way.

He opened his eyes and tried focusing on the phone again. But images of Infinity’s last seconds kept pushing themselves back into his head. She had only been dead a week. They’d thought the destination world was reasonably safe, and more than half the refugees had already arrived, almost four hundred. Then out of nowhere the creatures had come. Hundreds of them. Winged animals with fur, like bats but with talons and teeth for tearing flesh. Infinity had simply been in the wrong place, standing before the refugees, giving a pep talk on something Desmond couldn’t even remember. The first wave of creatures had dropped straight down on top of her, and the rest had gone for the nearest refugees. Within seconds, over a hundred of the refugees had been ripped to shreds.

Desmond couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t care that Infinity would disapprove—he broke down and allowed his sobs to take over.

The bunk room disappeared.

Desmond opened his eyes to new surroundings. And to the sounds of two inmates arguing. One was babbling about his right to eat his meals in peace. He might have been referring to the meals he ate here in the chow hall or to the ones he ate in the imaginary fairyland of his demented head. Desmond didn’t know and didn’t care. The other guy, his cell mate, was telling him to shut up or he’d bust the guy’s head against the wall.

Desmond rolled to his side and put his arm over his ear. Lights-on came at 6:00 AM—365 days of the goddamn year. And this babbling halfwit was waking everyone at forty-five minutes till? The guy was apparently suicidal.

Desmond’s mind started to wander. He knew that only idiots spent time thinking of how much time they had left, but that’s where Desmond’s thoughts went whenever he couldn’t sleep. Six years. Six years until he’d be up for parole. And then what? A job loading boxes on trucks or cleaning toilets? He balled up his fist and pounded his own forehead, trying to drive these thoughts out of his head.

The cell and arguing inmates disappeared.

A new scenario appeared, lingered briefly, and then disappeared, followed by another scenario, and another, and on and on. In each, Desmond found himself in his own body but living as a different version of himself. In one scenario, he was crying in a darkened hospital room, questioning why he, of all people, had developed colon cancer at such a young age. Then in another scenario, he awoke to see a wheelchair beside his bed, and within seconds he remembered that a distracted driver had taken both his legs when he had been only seventeen. One unfamiliar version of himself after another. There were numerous versions where he was lying in bed alone, and even more versions where a wife or girlfriend was sleeping beside him. In some scenarios, bridging technology had been discovered, and Earth was dying. In others, humans had never even discovered the Outlanders’ radio signal.

Some of his lives were desperately lonely, while others were full of loved ones. Some were bitter and filled with thoughts of violence, while others were at peace with the world. A lifetime of accumulated memories, both good and bad, accompanied each scenario, flooding Desmond’s consciousness with layers of thoughts and emotions, only to disappear and be replaced in the next scenario. Again and again.

Abruptly, Desmond was back in the mongrels’ bubble, sucking oxygenated fluid into his lungs. He had no idea how much time had passed, although in many of the hundreds of scenarios he’d experienced, he had been aware that the time was 5:16 AM. Was it possible that all of this could have happened in less than a minute?

“Better now, for you and for us,” the mongrel voice said. “Now you know—and we know—who you are, who you ain’t, who you wish to be, and who you fear becomin’.”

Desmond’s mind was still reeling from the sensory and emotional onslaught. He tried forming words in his mind. “What was that? Why?”

“We reckon it’s easier talking to folks when we understand who they are and who they ain’t. Acquainting you with variants of yourself does the trick without a hitch, as we can learn much from your cogitations regarding each variant.”

“Those were actual alternate versions of me? Did I just travel to all those alternate universes?”

“The particulars ain’t important. We now know from whence you came. And we know who you ain’t. What we don’t know is what to do with you and your herd.”

Desmond tried to focus his thoughts. This was his chance. He had to convince the mongrels to provide for the colonists. He closed his eyes and concentrated. “That is why I wanted to talk to you. I have a proposal for you.”

“Speak your piece.”

Desmond considered how to begin. “I understand that you came here in the same way I did, by bridging from another version of this world.”

“You’re correct.”

“And I understand that you destroyed the cities and roads and houses. You destroyed everything.”

“You’re mistaken. We destroyed nothing. This world suffered ruinous disfigurements. We transmogrified said disfigurements into elements more suited to the natural state of the land.”

“Millions of people lived in those cities.”

“Yes, but the land don’t accommodate herds of such unnatural size. Them folks were needed to replace valuable fertile elements of the soil. They are now in a form more fruitful to the land’s natural abundance.”

The stark matter-of-factness of these words threw off Desmond’s concentration. These creatures apparently didn’t blink at the thought of converting millions of people into fertilizer. The colony’s prospects were starting to look hopeless.

“Your herd ain’t suited to the natural state of this land,” the voice said.

Desmond knew that his next words might determine the colony’s fate. “That’s what I’d like to discuss with you. It is important to you to observe the creatures of this world in their natural state, is it not?”

“You’re correct.”

“I understand. I, too, like to observe creatures in this way. But I want to inform you that you are missing out on observing one of this world’s most fascinating creatures. Humans.”

“We accommodate human herds.”

“Yes, but reducing them to herds doesn’t allow you to observe the most fascinating aspects of human behavior. I want to tell you a story I think you’ll like. On this world, during the last million years, numerous species of human-like creatures existed at the same time. They were all different, each species having different diets and behaviors. My species—humans—appeared about two hundred thousand years ago. At first, humans were similar in many ways to the other human-like species. In fact, we even interbred with some of the other species. But as time passed, certain aspects of humans’ brains allowed us to develop language and complex social relationships that made the species highly adaptable to a variety of conditions. In fact, these social relationships are a product of the process of adaptation that shapes all creatures living in their natural states.”

The mongrels were silent. Good—Desmond had their attention. He continued. “These relationships gradually became even more complex, with each member of a herd contributing to the herd’s well-being in a different way. One of the most amazing aspects of human herds in their natural state is that certain humans are responsible for teaching the other members of the herd. Other species teach their young, but not like us, not by designating certain individuals for that specific task. Once humans began doing that, their advancement and social relationships evolved in new, even more fascinating, directions.” Desmond paused. “Do you understand my story?”

After a moment, the voice said. “We understand your words. We don’t understand why you prattle on about such things.”

“I’m explaining that you are missing out on observing one of the most interesting creatures of this world in their natural state. You think you are restoring things to their natural order, but you aren’t. You aren’t allowing humans to behave in natural ways. Instead, you’re making them pretend to be something unnatural. You’re making them much less interesting than they could be. So I have a proposal for you.”

“Perhaps you would care to make your proposal soon?”

Desmond hesitated. He had assumed the mongrels had learned to speak English from the local humans, but he hadn’t expected sarcasm. “Okay, here’s my proposal. I would like you to see that you have an amazing opportunity to observe humans in their real natural state. This is an opportunity you’ve never had before. And it’s an opportunity the others of your kind do not have. Only you, in this specific bailiwick, have this opportunity.”

“Stop prattling and spit it out.”

“I propose that you take advantage of this opportunity by allowing my herd to interact with the herd of your bailiwick. My herd is from a different version of this world. This is why you, and you alone, have the opportunity to observe what I’m proposing. My people are highly skilled at social interactions and forming relationships that benefit an entire herd. They can teach your humans to do what you have forced them to forget—to behave the way humans behave in their natural state. You can observe this phenomenon from the beginning. I think you’ll find it fascinating, because I think that you are like me—you are lovers of all things natural.”

Several seconds passed in silence. Finally, the voice said. “That’s a proposal worth chewing on. Problem is, if we abide such behaviors, soon the herd will take up practices that ain’t good for the natural state of the land. And then where will we be? Smack dab in the midst of where we started.”

“But that’s where you’re wrong,” Desmond contended. “Can I tell you another story? I’ll keep it brief.”

“Proceed.”

“On my version of this world, some people realized we had reached a critical point at which we were destroying the natural state of the planet: pollution, overpopulation, habitat destruction, and loss of biodiversity. Those of us who truly understood that this was happening worked hard to come up with ways to live without destroying the natural state of the land. We devised ways to live comfortably without overusing natural resources, by becoming stewards of the land. We built domiciles that existed side by side with native plants and creatures. We figured out how people could live in close proximity to each other, benefiting from the complex interactions humans need, without destroying natural resources. And we learned the best ways to teach this knowledge to others.

“The problem was, many other people simply didn’t listen. Too many people were indifferent to these teachings, focused instead on gaining power and wealth. Or perhaps they simply failed to see an obvious benefit to changing their ways. But here, in this world, the people of your herd will listen. They will not be indifferent. And they will see an obvious benefit to changing their ways. Because their lives depend upon it.

“My people can teach these things to your humans. This is what humans do when allowed to live in their natural state. I am requesting that you allow this to happen by providing sustenance to my herd and your herd as they learn together how to sustain themselves in ways that comply with your standards. Do this, and you will get to observe marvelous things.”

That was it, the best argument Desmond could come up with. The mongrels would either accept it or reject it. The colony’s fate would hinge on this moment.

After a few seconds, the voice spoke. “You’ve said a mouthful, no doubt about it. Now we’ve got a proposal for you.”

For a moment, Desmond was frozen by fear. Finally, he said, “I’m listening.”

“We’ll entertain your proposal, but first you and your herd gotta prove you can do what you claim. Come feeding time, which ain’t long from now, you must convince the herd of this bailiwick to go along with your clever plan. If they agree, then we’ll accept your proposal. That there alone will make for fascinating amusement.”

“All we have to do is convince your herd to do this? And then you’ll provide sustenance for both herds combined?”

“You’re correct. Such deliberations between the herds should be revealing, as your bearing and conduct will bespeak your aptness in achieving what you’ve promised.”

Desmond felt overwhelmed with disbelief. His plan had actually worked? He hadn’t dared to think much beyond this moment.

One other important detail came to him. “Will you please allow our herds to speak aloud in your presence, so that my group can have a chance to convince the herd to agree?”

“We’ll allow it.”

Seriously? Was it really going to be this easy? Desmond took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with fluid, and forced it back out. This had the same effect as a breath of fresh air, helping him to relax slightly. He decided to push his luck and see if he could learn more. “I’m grateful for this, but since you now seem to know a lot about me, I’d like to ask you a few questions. Is that okay?”

“Proceed.”

“I told you before that our world is dying. It’s collapsing in on itself due to strange, unexpected particles created by an alien bridging machinery.”

“Yet you’re still using said machinery.”

“Yes, because we know the process has gone too far and cannot be reversed. Now we’re using the bridging devices to move as many of our people as possible to alternate versions of our world. It’s the only way we can save our species.”

“Perhaps you should be moving the nonhuman critters of your world instead, as they are not guilty of destroying your world.”

Desmond hadn’t expected this response. “Well,” he said, “in our world, we value human lives above the lives of nonhuman animals. Just as you seem to value your own lives over the lives of the humans who live here.”

The mongrels didn’t reply to this.

“Anyway, I wanted to ask you, did you come to this world for the same reason? Was your home world destroyed by the bridging machinery?”

“No.”

“But you were using the bridging machinery—didn’t the particles it emitted start consuming the core of your planet?”

“No.”

Desmond waited for an explanation.

“Our bridging machinery does not produce the particles you speak of,” the voice said.

How was that possible? Desmond frowned. “You can use your bridging devices without damaging your home planet?”

“Yes.”

A horrifying thought occurred to him. “We believe that the civilization that sent instructions for bridging machinery did so with the intention of destroying other worlds. We call that civilization the Outlanders.” Desmond paused.

“Is this a question?”

He swallowed some of the fluid. “Are you the Outlanders?”

Several seconds of silence.

“No. We learned of bridging machinery as you did, by receiving instructions.”

“Then how did you use it without destroying your world?”

“We studied the instructions and ascertained the key.”

“The key?”

“The bridging machinery’s key lies within the instructions, for those pertinacious enough to ferret it out. This allows certain civilizations to use the bridging machinery without spiteful consequences. Those civilizations unable to ferret out the key… well, fate befalls them. It’s a rather grand approach to thinning the herd.”

Desmond struggled to comprehend the enormity of this. There was a key? The calculated cruelty of it all was staggering.

“Your human companion is making a nuisance of itself.”

Desmond swiveled and squinted at the bubble’s outer membrane. He saw a blurry shape just outside the membrane, either waving its arms or striking the bubble. “That’s Infinity. She’s probably worried about me. Please don’t hurt her.”

“If the human persists, it will be transfigured into varmints.”

“I’ll stop her.” Desmond tried to swim through the fluid, without much success. “Can you help me get out? I care about her and don’t want her to get hurt.”

Whatever was gripping his right hand began pulling him toward the membrane.

The conversation was ending, but Desmond had many more questions. “This key you mentioned. Do you think you could share it with me? Could you tell me how to find it, or tell me the information it contains?”

“Perhaps. Come feeding time, if you do what you have promised, perhaps we’ll bequeath the secret of the key to you.”

He had arrived at the edge of the bubble and could see Infinity on the other side. She was now standing still, looking back at him.

“Is there any chance we could use the key to reverse the destruction of our world?”

“You claimed to know the process had gone too far. If your claim was truthful, the process cannot be reversed.”

Desmond felt the membrane give way against his skin. His left arm and shoulder passed through. Infinity grabbed his wrist and pulled. For a moment, he tried to resist. He needed more time. But the mongrels nudged him the rest of the way through the membrane.

He fell to the ground in a heap. Infinity raised his torso to help the fluid drain from his mouth. He realized he was holding his breath. Surprisingly, the thought of switching breathing mediums again was almost as terrifying as it had been the first time. But the fluid in his lungs was depleted of its oxygen. He blew most of it out onto the ground. He choked on his first breath of air, triggering a coughing fit. Eventually, the last of the fluid came out, and he took a few tentative breaths. The air seemed so thin, so easy to suck in and blow out. He tipped and shook his head to drain his right ear and then his left. He sat up and blinked at Infinity.

She stared back at him with a deep frown.

“We can talk out loud now,” he said.

“What the hell happened?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

He wiped the last of the fluid from his eyes. “You’re not going to believe it.”

18

Tiers

September 3 - 6:37 AM

A refugee woman whistled to draw Infinity’s attention. The woman pointed. The sun had just risen, and nearly-horizontal shafts of light barely illuminated the forest, but there was movement in the distance. A man with an orange body and blue arms. A yellow woman with black stripes.

The painted herd was coming.

Infinity scanned the sea of over five hundred refugees gathered beside the mongrel bubble. The refugees were not holding rocks or other weapons, and they were seated on the forest floor rather than standing, in order to appear less threatening. Having had only an hour to prepare for this moment, they had discussed and discarded several plans in favor of a tiered approach. They would begin with a peaceful, reserved plea for an audience with the leaders of the painted herd, assuming the group even had leaders. They would follow this up, as needed, with increasingly aggressive tiers of persuasion. If necessary, they’d go as far as deploying two or three refugees to every native, chasing them down and restraining them, forcing them to listen to reason.

It was crucial that the herd understand what was at stake.

Besides Infinity and Desmond, only three refugees were standing: Arty, Gretchen, and Lottie. Oliver and a handful of others were waiting for group thirty-two to arrive, at which time they would calm the new arrivals and prevent them from escalating the situation.

Infinity glanced at Desmond. Remnants of mongrel bubble fluid clung to his skin. Most of the fluid had dried, leaving behind a layer of clear film that was gradually flaking off. He noticed her looking at him and nodded, indicating he was ready.

Nehemiah, the man with a black torso and yellow limbs, was leading the approaching herd. It appeared the entire herd was coming. And every one of the natives was carrying at least one rock. These people were expecting trouble.

The herd stopped ten yards from the closest refugees. Nehemiah glared at Infinity but remained silent.

“You can speak freely,” Desmond said. “I have spoken to the mongrels, and they have agreed to allow us to talk.”

Several hundred native heads turned to stare at the translucent bubble.

“You lie,” Nehemiah said, covering his mouth and keeping his voice low. “No one speaks to the mongrels but for musk monkeys.”

“That statement ain’t necessarily true,” a warbling voice said. Abel walked around the edge of the mongrel bubble, once again having appeared unexpectedly. The musk monkey positioned himself between the painted herd and the refugees. Infinity realized for the first time that the flakes of transparent film peeling from its green skin were dried pieces of mongrel bubble fluid. Abel continued, “A human with a stubborn streak and a will to give up the ghost might have the gumption needed to speak to the mongrels.” The creature looked directly at Desmond. “And live to tell of it.”

“Ain’t no concern of ours,” Nehemiah said. “We offered these people a fair deal to leave us be, but they spurned our offer. They intend to seize our bailiwick, and we got every right to defend it.”

“Please listen to what I have to say,” Desmond said. “We have a plan you’re going to like. I did talk to the mongrels, and they agreed to allow our herds to live together in this bailiwick. They’ll provide sustenance for all of us, a combined herd of nine hundred.”

Several long seconds of silence followed.

Infinity’s muscles tightened, an instinctive response to moments of uncertainty, particularly when lives could be lost.

“Lies!” one of the native women hissed.

“The mongrels are deceivers,” Nehemiah said. “You’ve been hoodwinked.”

Again, several seconds of silence.

“No, I haven’t,” Desmond said with admirable calm. “The mongrels agreed to allow all of us to—”

He was cut short by a sharp phhhit, and then another. Arty slapped his neck and looked at his hand. Wet goo glinted on his palm.

“God almighty,” cried a man painted brown on his back side and yellow on his front. The man’s chest had also been hit with goo.

Arty fell to the ground, and the brown and yellow man did the same a few seconds later.

“You’ve brung mongrel mischief upon us all!” Nehemiah said.

The painted herd began backing away.

“Wait!” Desmond said, holding both his hands up. “The mongrels meant what they told me. I’m sure of it.”

Arty and the native man weren’t even struggling. They appeared to be dead. Infinity stepped closer to Arty to check for a pulse, but then she stopped cold. His body was changing. And so was the painted man’s. Lengthwise slits formed on their skin. The slits became deeper and wider, until the two men were no longer recognizable as humans. Their bodies separated into numerous elongated, worm-like strands, which then segmented into shorter pieces, each about fifteen inches long.

Infinity stared, mesmerized, as tiny protrusions grew in rows on the sides of each piece. Each protrusion elongated until it became a jointed leg with a single claw at its tip.

Desmond moved to Infinity’s side. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said in a whisper. Together they stood watching the final transformations.

The two men had each become a pile of twitching venomcrooks, perhaps fifty per pile.

“Oh my goodness gracious,” Abel warbled.

Nehemiah stepped closer to the pile of weapons that moments ago had been his companion. “Bloody buggering hell,” he whispered. “Venomcrooks!”

The retreating natives stopped in their tracks and began approaching again.

“They didn’t say anything about using weapons,” Desmond said to Infinity. “They just said we had to convince the herd.”

“Well, venomcrooks are pretty goddamn convincing,” Infinity said. “Apparently they want to make this more interesting.”

“My goodness gracious,” Abel repeated, his voice higher than before. “Tribulation and trauma are afoot.” The creature scrambled to the nearest tree and began climbing. “Tribulation and trauma, as sure as the day is long.”

The painted natives crowded around their pile of venomcrooks and stared, wide-eyed.

The situation was about to go to hell. The mongrels may have intended for the painted herd to have half the venomcrooks, but Infinity wasn’t about to let that happen. She turned to the refugees. “Everyone on your feet! Surround both these piles of weapons. Don’t let anyone through. No one touches them!”

But it was too late. The natives were already grabbing wildly, each of them fighting to get their own venomcrook. Some of them began moving toward the second pile.

“No!” Infinity cried. She darted in and clotheslined the nearest woman with her forearm, flipping the woman onto her back. The two men who had been behind the woman paused briefly, then they quickly spread out to go around Infinity.

She managed to trip one of them, and Desmond darted in front of the other and shoved him. “Get back! You’re not touching these.”

The other refugees had now surrounded the pile of venomcrooks that had once been Arty Heath, cutting off the painted herd’s access.

The venomcrooks that used to be the painted man now had all been snatched up. The natives stood staring, mouths agape, at the weapons in their hands, as if they couldn’t believe they were real. A woman painted green and yellow suddenly struck her own thigh. Seconds later she went to her knees and then to the ground, moaning with pleasure. A purple and red man beside her saw what she had done and then struck himself. Three others followed their example.

“Stop, you fools!” Nehemiah cried. “The mongrels did not bless us with these venomcrooks for you to lay waste to your own wits. No! This blessing’s for a higher purpose. We shall smite these demonic usurpers. They wish to seize our bailiwick. Instead, they will come to know pain. I have seen the musk monkey command the venomcrook to purvey pain. It is done thusly, with four quick thrusts to one side.” He put his hand on the weapon’s exposed tendon and pushed it to the side four times.

Infinity had already begun sprinting the ten yards to Nehemiah. She drove her right foot into the side of his ribcage hard enough to crack bone. He went down, dropping his venomcrook and gasping for air. Infinity snatched up his weapon.

“Listen!” she announced to the painted herd. “If you want to live, listen to what we have to say.” She glanced at Desmond.

“We have a plan for all of us to survive together,” he shouted. “The mongrels will allow it.”

At least a dozen natives had now dosed themselves and were moaning on the ground in rapture. The rest of them were fiddling with the handles of their weapons, apparently following Nehemiah’s instructions.

“Drive the usurpers away!” a green and black man cried as he began charging at Infinity.

Unwilling to risk even a scratch from the man’s venomcrook, Infinity waited until the last moment and then darted to the side, circling to the man’s back before he could come to a stop. She struck the back of his neck with the venomcrook she’d taken from Nehemiah. The man stopped and turned to her with a confused look. His eyes bulged, and he collapsed, screaming from the pain that was spreading across his body.

Infinity stared at the man for a moment, almost feeling sorry for him. She then scanned the fifty or so natives holding venomcrooks. A few of them looked hesitant. But not the majority. They were beyond listening to reason.

She began backing away from the painted herd. “Everyone who can, grab one of those weapons!”

This was all it took—apparently sensing they had an advantage, the natives charged.

Infinity managed to strike the closest man in the face with her venomcrook without getting dosed, but then she realized there were too many. She ran back toward the refugees, Desmond following at her side.

“Form a defensive line!” she yelled.

Some of the refugees were still swarming around the pile of weapons, trying to distribute them, while others had moved back to avoid the conflict altogether, too disorganized to respond adequately within the few seconds available.

The painted herd plowed into the refugees, viciously striking them with venomcrooks, rocks, and fists. Screams of fear and pain erupted amidst the melee. Dozens of refugees collapsed, and painted people tripped over them, creating a tangled, thrashing pile.

Infinity had never experienced a conflict like this, but she quickly realized the refugees’ only hope was to run from the natives. She needed more time to organize them into some kind of defensive formation.

“Run!” she cried. “Leave the fallen behind and follow me. Stay together!”

But the refugees were already scattering in every direction.

She saw Desmond intercepting some of them. “This way!” he shouted. “Stay together with the group.” He pointed toward Infinity and the fleeing refugees changed direction.

Infinity took off running, leaving behind dozens of fallen refugees.

When she was sure at least a couple hundred refugees were following her, she stopped. “Desmond, keep them together. Don’t stop until you’re no longer being followed! Those of you with weapons, come over here with me. If you don’t think you can use the weapon, give it to someone who can.”

Seconds later, about forty armed refugees had gathered around her.

Infinity heard shouting in the distance. “Colonists! It’s Desmond. If you hear me, come to my voice.”

She heard cries of anger and pain coming from the direction of the bridge-in site. About ten armed natives were chasing a refugee woman toward Infinity’s group, but they stopped and turned back when they saw they were outnumbered.

Infinity scanned the refugees around her. “I know you’re scared. I am too. But listen—Desmond’s plan will work. We have to believe it’ll work because it’s the only chance we have. The mongrels screwed with us by tossing venomcrooks into the mix, but we have no choice but to hope they’ll still honor their promise.”

“We understand the stakes,” one of the men said. “Tell us what we need to do.”

“We have to make these goddamn painted assholes understand. But first we have to keep them from killing any more of our people.”

A new surge of cries arose from the bridge-in site. But these were different, more like cries of confusion.

“Oh hell, that’s group thirty-two,” Infinity said. “I need every last one of you to help me protect them.” Without giving them a chance to doubt themselves, she started running.

As she approached the area near the mongrels’ bubble, she saw a scene of chaos. As many as a hundred bodies, of both refugees and natives, littered the ground. Some of them writhed in pain or pleasure, while others lay still, perhaps dead. Within the bridge-in site, some of the twenty newly-arrived refugees were still retching. Those who had already recovered were staring wide-eyed at the mass of brightly-painted natives converging on them with rocks and twitching venomcrooks.

Infinity ran faster. She charged into the midst of the painted natives, hitting three of them in the back with her venomcrook before they realized she was upon them. She struck three more while they were still reeling from surprise.

The forty armed refugees who had followed her plowed into the painted bodies, cursing and swinging their venomcrooks like maniacs. Dozens of painted bodies collapsed, and the remaining natives panicked and fled. But the refugees didn’t stop, striking another fifteen or so as they tried to escape. Enraged refugees started chasing after the remaining fleeing natives.

Infinity noticed more natives closing in from all directions, returning from chasing the scattered refugees. “No,” she shouted to the refugees giving chase. “Let them go! We need to get out of here.”

The refugees stopped and turned back. They looked almost disappointed, which was good. It meant they were reaching the critical point of murderous fury necessary for self-preservation. Most people simply weren’t equipped to fight and kill until they had been driven to this critical point.

Infinity nodded down at the fallen natives. “Grab every one of these venomcrooks. And be careful!”

She scanned the surrounding ground for fallen refugees—she saw perhaps twenty. Most of them were completely still or barely moving. She saw one of them flick a venomcrook to dose himself. She stepped over and snatched the weapon from the man’s hand. Hopefully he would recover, but she didn’t have time to worry about him now. She quickly checked to make sure none of the other fallen refugees or natives had venomcrooks in their hands or nearby.

Once she was certain, she turned to the twenty new arrivals, who were now either staring in horror at the bodies around the bridge-in site or staring in confusion at the shimmering bubble looming over them. She waved her hand to get their attention. “Hey! There’s no time to explain. You need to come with us. It’ll hurt your feet, but keep up. We have to stay together.” She scanned the surrounding forest. Painted natives were clustered in haphazard groups here and there, but they were slowly regrouping. Soon they would muster the confidence to attack again. Infinity needed time to come up with a new approach.

She ran, leading the band of sixty naked refugees away from the bridge-in site.

19

Manifestation

September 3 - 7:19 AM

Oliver Hanley came over and stopped beside Desmond. “Three hundred and ninety, plus or minus. And there come another two now.” He pointed to two refugee women picking their way through the underbrush toward the main group. “Only twelve of them have venomcrooks, so including yours we have thirteen.”

Desmond shook his head and cursed silently. Six hundred forty refugees had already bridged to this world. Now over two hundred were missing or dead. The plan to convince the painted natives to join them had seemed easy when he’d described it to the mongrels. But it had turned into a complete disaster. To make matters worse, the painted herd was apparently in possession of the majority of the venomcrooks.

“I’ll be damned,” Oliver said, staring in the direction of the bridge-in site.

Desmond turned. It was Infinity, leading a group of at least fifty refugees. They were all holding venomcrooks, and some of them even had two.

Desmond and Oliver went out to meet them. Many among Infinity's group looked shellshocked, and Desmond realized that they were new arrivals—group thirty-two. The newcomers were obviously still coping with their expectations of easily integrating into a modern society having been replaced by a brutal new reality.

When Infinity’s group came to a stop, she grabbed Desmond’s arm and led him out of earshot of the refugees. “I need to know one thing,” she said quietly. “Do you really think the mongrels will keep their promise?”

“I have to believe they will,” Desmond replied.

“Because it seems like they’re screwing with us.”

Desmond sighed. “Yeah, it does. But I believe the venomcrooks were just their attempt to make it more interesting. We have no reason to think they won’t keep their word.”

She gazed at him for a moment and then nodded. “Okay, then we’re going to close this goddamn deal.” She returned to the refugees and Desmond followed. She spoke to Oliver. “Can you take these newcomers aside and get them up to speed? Stick to the short version because I’ll need everyone’s attention in about ten minutes.”

Oliver nodded. “You got it, Infinity.” He then asked the newcomers to please join him for a few minutes. As Oliver led them away, Desmond heard several demanding to be returned to their own version of Earth.

Desmond noted the determined look on Infinity’s face. She obviously had a plan. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

She glanced at him and started to say something but was cut off by someone yelling.

“Here! They’re here!” It came from a painted man about fifty yards away. And he wasn’t alone—he had seven others with him.

Infinity turned to the forty or so armed refugees who had not stepped away for orientation. “We have to take them out, now!” She charged full tilt toward the natives, and Desmond and the others followed.

“They’re here!” one of the natives shouted again. “Over here!” The eight men, only two of whom had venomcrooks, started to brace themselves for the onslaught. Then they seemed to realize how hopeless it was and turned to run.

But it was too late. Infinity had already overtaken them and she struck two with her venomcrook. Desmond and the refugees overwhelmed the remaining natives, striking at them furiously and repeatedly. It was over in seconds, and all eight natives were curled up on the ground, paralyzed by pain or rapture.

Desmond pulled the two venomcrooks from the fallen natives’ fingers and handed them to a couple of refugees who each had a free hand. “It’s not over,” he said. “The natives still have at least a few dozen venomcrooks.”

Infinity nodded. She turned to the refugees. “We need everyone to come together now so I can talk to them. Could you please gather them up?”

The refugees, who now appeared to be feeling triumphant, nodded and took off toward the main group.

Within a minute or two, the entire group of naked refugees were gathering around. Just hours ago, many of them had been acting like belligerent, complaining tourists. Now most of them had descended into silent brooding, a condition that spread quickly to each group of new arrivals. Desmond could hardly imagine the despair they were all going through.

“Our plans haven’t changed,” Infinity said, loudly enough for all to hear. “We’re going to convince the natives to coexist with all of you. Once we do, the mongrels will begin providing food for the entire combined colony.”

Desmond added, “As we’ve already explained to all but the newest arrivals, once we convince the natives to cooperate, you’ll be allowed to begin building a civilization, as long as you don’t disturb what the mongrels see as the natural state of the land. This is your best possible chance to thrive on this world. Everything hinges on what we do next.”

Some of the refugees were attentive, while others stared at her with vacant eyes.

Desmond went on. “Whatever we do, we need to do it near the mongrel bubble. We want the mongrels to see that we’ve convinced the natives to cooperate. That’s the deal.” He paused for a moment. “I know this isn’t what you had hoped for, but it will ensure your long-term survival.”

About half the refugees continued staring vacantly, their will having clearly already been broken. The other half nodded with grim determination. They would have to be the ones to carry this colony forward.

“The plan is simple,” Infinity said. “I’ll give you a crash course on how to incapacitate a foe in hand-to-hand combat. We’ll go back to the mongrels’ bubble. You’ll get into groups of two or three, and each group will subdue one native, using a venomcrook if you have to. Once they’re all subdued, we’ll bring them together and force them to listen, convince them that their best chance is to coexist with our colony. The mongrels will see that we’ve succeeded. That’s it.”

“Disorderly! Chaos and clutter,” Abel warbled from above. “My, but you have an aptness for chaos and clutter.”

Desmond spotted the musk monkey at least thirty feet from the ground, descending a red oak. He was amazed that the creature had been able to approach through the canopy without drawing attention.

Abel dropped the last eight feet to the ground, alighting gracefully on two feet and two hands. Some of the refugees stepped aside as the musk monkey strode into the group’s midst and stopped before Desmond and Infinity, his oily smell arriving well before him.

“Always the hard way with you humans. Did you ask help of your friend, Abel? No, too smitten with chaos and clutter, I reckon.”

“You’re willing to help us?” Desmond asked.

Abel blew out a puff of air. “Not that I didn’t consider running off to join the ferals. I sure as slithering snakes ain’t sticking around here much longer, what with all these venomcrooks wreaking havoc.” He held up his own venomcrook. “Ain’t no way I can continue reining in the herd with this wretched contraption.”

“If you’ve got an idea that can help us, get to it,” Infinity said. “Otherwise, you’re wasting our time.”

Abel glanced at Infinity but then turned to Desmond. “Unfettered rapture didn’t cure her cantankerousness, did it?”

“I wasn’t aware curing cantankerousness was one of the common side effects,” Desmond replied. “But she does have a point.”

“Yes, yes. I keep my nose out of herd conflicts, by and large. But this morning’s dawn unveiled shenanigans heretofore unwitnessed. My last act as purveyor of order in this bailiwick will be to quash this chaos.”

Infinity raised her weapon. “You going to explain or not?”

“You may have venomcrooks,” Abel said. “But so does the painted herd. Unsavory business. You need help.” The creature then tweaked the tendon on the handle of his venomcrook and stepped over to the eight native men, who were just now starting to recover. With casual flips of his wrist, Abel struck the two natives nearest him.

The two men, obviously not fully aware, looked up at the musk monkey in confusion. Their eyes then rolled back in their heads, and they both went limp.

Several of the other natives extended their hands toward Abel’s weapon. “Please,” one of them pleaded.

“Humph,” Abel muttered. He stepped around the two still bodies and dosed the other six.

They, too, collapsed into unconsciousness.

Desmond exchanged a glance with Infinity, and she shook her head, obviously losing her patience.

Then, the bodies of the eight painted men began changing. Their limbs grew shorter. Their heads became featureless lumps. Colored paint peeled off and fell to the ground, revealing skin that was rapidly turning green and tan. Desmond realized the men were transforming into musk monkeys. But then each of their bodies split into five smaller pieces. Arms, legs, and a tail formed on each piece. Each piece grew a softball-sized head, which then grew dark eyes, a mouth, and a strange, flattened nose, which was characteristic of musk monkeys.

The miniature musk monkeys began moving. They stretched their arms and legs, curled their tails into tight coils, and sat up.

There were forty of them, five created from each unfortunate native.

“Ain’t that dandy,” Abel said. “And on my first crack at it.”

Desmond, Infinity, and over four hundred refugees stared, speechless, at the beagle-sized creatures. They were about twice the size of the musk monkey that had bridged back to SafeTrek with the other bio-probe animals.

“We’re trying to get the natives to cooperate with us, not kill them,” Infinity said.

Abel stepped back from his creations. “Yes, yes, but such a small price to pay. These here musk monkeys will be eager to please. And quicker than a hungry mink chasin’ a tadpole. You give them your venomcrooks, and they’ll scamper over and prick each and every one of them painted vassals without you having to risk your own hides. Then you walk over there, take the herd’s venomcrooks, wait till they recuperate from their rapture—if indeed they ever do—and tell them what you gotta tell them. There you go, the gist of it.”

Desmond looked over at Infinity. She met his gaze and raised her brows. She was actually considering this. Desmond was uncomfortable with this idea for several reasons. How could the mini musk monkeys be trusted? Could they even differentiate between natives and refugees? And then another potential problem came to mind.

“Um, Abel?” he said. “I told the mongrels we would convince the herd to cooperate. I didn’t tell them you would help us. They’re going to see this and know. Isn’t that going to be a problem?”

Abel rubbed his chin with one of his lower hands, an uncannily human gesture. “Confounded hitches and hindrances. You’re right.” He let out a gargling sound, waving all his hands at the tiny musk monkeys. “Off with you! You’re of no use here. Git!”

The creatures began to scatter.

“Wait,” Desmond said. “Do you think those musk monkeys might be useful to the colony? I mean, after the mongrels start providing for all of us?”

Abel gargled again, louder than before. “Hey, you puckish pygmies get your sorry carcasses back here! You might be of use after all.”

The little musk monkeys dutifully circled back and returned. They arranged themselves in a cluster, sitting with their tails coiled around their butts, staring up at Abel.

“I got another conception, one I reckon you’ll find more agreeable,” Abel said to Desmond. “You want to hear it?”

Desmond tried to scan the surrounding forest for approaching natives, but four refugees blocked his view. “Do you see anyone coming?” he asked no one in particular.

“I’ve been watching,” said a man on the outer periphery. “There’s a group of six natives watching us, but they’re keeping their distance.”

Desmond turned back to Abel. “Yes, we want to hear it.”

“Stealth. That’s what you need. And swiftness. You need to deliver your plan to the minds of the vassals without delay. To turn them from doubters to believers in the blink of a gnat’s eye, especially seeing as they now have their own venomcrooks. And I’ve an idea how to do this, without the mongrels knowing you got help from old Abel. It’s a sure-fire thing.”

Desmond, Infinity, and the refugees waited.

“Well, what’s your idea?” Infinity finally demanded.

Abel’s face distorted, the creature’s mouth stretching into an almost perfect circle. His expression then relaxed. “I’m contemplating.”

Several seconds passed.

Then, Abel touched the handle of his venomcrook, manipulating the tendon with his slender fingers. Finally, the creature looked up at Desmond. “You’ve chewed the fat with the mongrels, so you’ll understand before the others will.” He approached casually. Abel flicked out his venomcrook without warning, puncturing Desmond’s forearm.

“Ow! What are you doing?”

Abel immediately turned to face Infinity as she stepped forward menacingly. “No need for that!” the creature said, holding three arms out to stop her. “He ain’t hurt—you have my word. Nor did I mete out rapture.”

Desmond looked down at his arm and saw four pinpricks, a blood droplet forming on each. His heart began pounding as he imagined himself turning into five miniature musk monkeys. But so far he felt nothing unusual. “What’s going to happen to me?” he asked.

“Nothing worth getting your hackle hairs up over. Be patient.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” Infinity said, taking another step toward the musk monkey. “What the hell did you do to him?”

“Yes, yes, perhaps it’s been long enough.” Abel grabbed Infinity’s arm and pulled her over to Desmond. The creature then eyed Desmond. “You know how this works. Muster up a manifestation of your affections for this here woman. I know you got some. Keep the manifestation in your own noggin, but make sure it’s clear as can be.”

Desmond stared at Abel as he realized what the creature was suggesting. No way. It wasn’t possible. “You’re not serious,” he said.

“Save your yammering and muster up your vision,” Abel said.

“We’re wasting time,” Infinity growled through gritted teeth.

Desmond had become curious, though. Why not try it? If the mongrels could convey thoughts telepathically, why should he doubt that there could be a way to transfer that ability to humans? Yes, he definitely wanted to try it. He formed an image in his mind of Infinity standing before him. He visualized pulling her close and kissing her passionately.

He watched the real version of her face as he formed this image. She didn’t respond. Of course she didn’t. This was ridiculous.

Abel took Desmond’s hand and moved it toward Infinity. “Place your paw on her hide. And then cogitate on sending your manifestation from your noggin to hers.”

Desmond sighed and shook his head. But goosebumps had formed on the back of his neck. He put his hand on Infinity’s shoulder and concentrated, creating the same passionate image. He then imagined pushing it outward, forcing it to leave his mind and enter hers, as he had done with the words he had projected to the mongrels.

The corners of her mouth turned down in a slight frown. Abruptly, her eyes widened. She stepped back, breaking the contact between their skin. “What the hell?” Her chest began heaving as if she were hyperventilating. “What the hell just happened?”

“Well, ain’t that dandy,” Abel said. “And again on the first crack. I am indeed a jack-of-all-trades.”

Infinity continued staring at Desmond, her eyes wide.

“Don’t look so dad-blamed flummoxed,” Abel said. “Your brain sends signals to your toes all the way down at the south end of your leg, don’t it? So why be surprised to learn it can send visions right on through your hide and into someone else’s noggin? It ain’t surprising at all. Only thing surprising is that you couldn’t always do such a thing, that you require mongrel-made tonic conjured in a venomcrook.”

“I guess it worked?” Desmond asked Infinity. Which was a stupid question—her expression made it clear it had worked.

She nodded, her head barely moving up and down.

Abel reached up and massaged the top of Desmond’s head with his fingers. Desmond pulled his eyes from Infinity to glance at the musk monkey, and Abel said, “Muster up another vision, this one with regards to what you want the painted vassals to make sense of. Be sure it includes the whole story, snout to tail. Everything you want them to know.”

Desmond was eager to try this. He formed images of the key elements of his conversation with the mongrels, followed by brief, imagined scenes of the painted herd living side-by-side with the colonists: feeding on abundant food supplied by the mongrels, cultivating and harvesting native plants like pawpaws and blackberries, and constructing log homes from young, overabundant trees.

“Now send your manifestation to that man right there.” Abel pointed one of his lower hands toward a nearby colonist.

Desmond stepped over and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “You okay with this?”

The man twisted his mouth to the side in skepticism. “Go for it.”

Desmond repeated the sequence of visions, this time more forcefully, trying to mentally project them.

The man’s eyes widened and he gasped. He put a hand to his temple. “You were inside that bubble? Breathing liquid? Jesus Christ, man!”

“It worked?” Desmond asked.

“It played in my head like a freaking video recording,” the guy said. “I still see it, like it’s my own memory. This is going to work. Those painted natives are going to have a perfectly clear picture of exactly what you’re planning to do, and why they need to cooperate.”

“Hallelujah,” Abel exclaimed. “One last good deed before old Abel gets transfigured into skittering varmints. It’s time to get to it. I aim to prick every last one of you with this here venomcrook. This feller here—Desmond—he’ll send the manifestation he just sent to this other feller to every last one of you. Then you’ll all go after them painted vassals, get your hands on them, and make them see the light. With any luck, the mongrels will have no notion you got old Abel’s help.”

20

Conflict

September 3 - 8:40 AM

Infinity gathered as much speed as she could in ten yards. Then she threw her right leg forward and skidded on her left side like she was sliding into home base. She struck her opponent’s leg as she slid by, and then leapt to her feet, readying herself to strike again if necessary.

“It’ll work almost every time,” she announced to the hundreds of refugees gathered around her. “They won’t be expecting you to drop low like that. But without clothing to protect your skin, you’re going to be timid about doing it. That’s why you need to practice it now. Prove to yourself that it’s not all that painful to slide a few inches on your leg and hip—then you’ll be less likely to hesitate in a real fight.”

Infinity nodded in appreciation to the refugee who’d volunteered, tossed aside the harmless stick she’d used for the demonstration, and picked up her venomcrook. “If they have one of these, and they look like they intend to use it, that’s when you use this move. If they don’t have a weapon, there’s no need—you and your partners just grab them. Tackle them if you have to, but get your hands on them and push your vision of our plan straight into their goddamn heads.” She scanned the refugees’ faces and saw that most of them looked determined. Good. “Practice now. We’re going back to the bridge-in site in a few minutes, and you need to be ready.”

It had taken more than an hour for Desmond to send his vision to the refugees and for Abel to dose them with the mind-projection venom, mainly because his venomcrook needed to ‘recuperate,’ as he put it, after every fifty or so doses. After completing this task, Abel had disappeared again. The forty smaller musk monkeys were now wandering around the area, watching and sometimes even mimicking the refugees’ behavior.

Infinity was the only one who had refused to be dosed. Her encounters with rapture and pain made her uncomfortable with the idea of being stung by a venomcrook, regardless of what effect it was supposed to have.

If this colony survived, it would undoubtedly be the first population of telepathic humans.

Infinity didn’t really care whether they talked with their minds, with their mouths, or through their butts, as long as they survived. She was tired of losing refugees. She was also tired of not knowing the fates of the colonies she’d worked to establish. Once she and Desmond bridged back from this world, she’d never know whether the colonists lived long enough to make it all worthwhile. Just as she would never know about the previous colony she and Desmond had assisted in a world occupied by diminutive, human-like thirdlings. She was more than ready to bridge out with a colony permanently and see it through to the end, whatever that end might be.

Desmond approached and stood beside her, watching the refugees practice the only offensive move she’d had time to teach them. He then took her hand in his.

“We can’t wait much longer, Infinity. We need to be at the bridge-in site when group thirty-four arrives.”

She turned and glared at him. He had spoken these words silently, delivering them directly to her mind, along with a mental image of twenty refugees appearing within the bridge-in site.

“Don’t do that!” she said. “It creeps me out.”

“Sorry. I just thought I could use the practice. Did you understand what I was trying to say?”

“Loud and clear. But it wasn’t really your voice. It was more like… my own thoughts, but appearing without my effort or consent.” Still holding his hand, Infinity shut her mouth and concentrated on forming words in her own mind. Do you understand what I’m thinking?

“I wonder whether this ability will last,” Desmond said aloud. “Do you think it’ll disappear when we bridge back?”

I said, do you understand what I’m thinking! Infinity watched his face. He was still waiting for her to reply to his question and showed no indication he’d received her thoughts. Good. The last thing she needed was the one guy she’d ever allowed herself to love reading her private thoughts. If Desmond could see the weird shit created in her mind on a regular basis, he’d probably decide she was too broken to be loved—damaged beyond repair. Maybe she was beyond repair, but she had no intention of broadcasting it.

“Infinity?” Desmond was eyeing her, frowning.

She tried one more time, mentally forming the words, Do you think I’m a broken person?

He raised his eyebrows, still waiting for a response.

She exhaled. “I was just making sure you couldn’t hear my thoughts.”

“I’m sure Abel would still be willing to dose you.”

She shook her head. “Not interested. And you’re right, we need to be there when group thirty-four arrives. Let’s get this done.”

* * *

8:50 AM

Four hundred eighty refugees stood more-or-less ready to act. This number included nine who had found their way back to the main group over the last hour, as well as twenty recent arrivals from group thirty-three, whom Infinity and sixty armed refugees had narrowly rescued from the natives nearly an hour ago.

The group had gathered a total of seventy venomcrooks, and each weapon had been assigned to a pair of refugees. The remaining refugees, without venomcrooks, were in groups of three. They had no rocks or other weapons because the intent was persuasion, not annihilation.

Infinity glanced at Desmond, who was standing beside her. She knew he had to be exhausted, but his face showed only determination. She wondered whether this would be the day her luck would finally run out, and her mind drifted to thoughts of bridging out one-way with colony ST6 to establish a permanent home with Desmond. In their current circumstances, this seemed like a pipe dream.

Dammit, she never used to allow her mind to wander like this at such critical moments.

“You ready?” Desmond asked.

She nodded. Then she addressed the nearly five hundred refugees. “Remember, subdue them, get the vision of our plan into their heads, and then take them to the mongrel bubble. Hopefully they’ll be cooperative by that time. We need the mongrels to see that they agree with us. Repeat those steps until we have them all on our side.”

Without waiting for questions or acknowledgement, she started marching toward the bridge-in site and the mongrel bubble.

She led the refugees several hundred yards through the dense forest until she spotted the shimmering bubble. Fortunately, most of the painted natives were already gathered there, perhaps even all of them. They were standing in a defensive formation, their heads already turned toward the approaching refugees, clearly aware of the group’s presence. Infinity turned to face the refugees and waved a hand to the right and then the left, signaling them to spread out and surround the site. The natives could probably see that the refugees were surrounding them, but they didn’t run away, which meant they intended to defend their source of food.

Infinity waited until she was sure the refugees had encircled the sixty-foot-wide bubble and had taken their positions. She then nodded to Desmond.

“Friends!” he shouted. “We do not wish to harm you. We only want an audience with you. To talk. We have something we’d like to show you. We’re coming closer.”

This last sentence signaled the others to move in. Infinity, Desmond, and over four hundred refugees began closing in on the mongrel bubble.

“That’s close enough!” Infinity shouted to the refugees when they were ten yards from the painted natives.

The natives with venomcrooks—thirty or so—stood in a semicircle, the rest of their herd behind them, huddled beside the bubble. A few dozen bodies, both refugees’ and natives’, lay scattered about the area, some with crushed skulls. Infinity guessed these people had been suffering from rapture madness. The painted natives must have assumed they’d become dangerous, which was a damn well-founded assumption.

Infinity spotted Nehemiah behind the perimeter of armed natives,. He was sitting on the ground with a hand held to his side, evidence that Infinity had indeed cracked his ribs when she’d kicked him.

A man painted with alternating blue and black vertical stripes stepped forward. “Why do you persist? This bailiwick don’t support but two-fifty. There ain’t enough sustenance here for your herd.”

“But there could be,” Desmond said. “There could be enough for all of us.”

Abruptly, group thirty-four materialized to the side of the natives’ formation. The new arrivals cried out and began retching, most of them dropping to their knees.

“You keep coming and coming!” the blue and black man cried. “There ain’t no end to your herd. This bailiwick won’t sustain you, and we aim to defend it until death. So seize it if you must, but know that many of you will not live to see another dawn.”

Infinity realized the arrival of group thirty-four had caused confusion in the natives that might give the refugees a strategic advantage. But it wouldn’t last. “Move in, now!” she shouted. “Take down those who have venomcrooks first!”

She sprinted at the blue and black man, skidded on her side as she’d taught the refugees, and struck the man’s ankle. She slashed the calf of a second man before she was even on her feet again.

The other armed refugees followed her example, charging forward. Some of them carried out the move she’d taught them, but most simply came in swinging wildly. As bodies dropped to the ground screaming and moaning, the refugees who’d been positioned on the far side of the bubble came running around from the left and right.

The fighting quickly became so thick the refugees couldn’t possibly carry out Infinity’s sliding move whether they remembered it or not. Desmond appeared at Infinity’s side, and they positioned themselves back to back, ready to deflect attackers. The refugees were packed into such a tight space, and their thrashing was so wild, that Infinity feared she or Desmond might get hit with one of their own venomcrooks.

She hadn’t anticipated such a dense fight.

The unarmed group of natives, pinned between the shimmering bubble and the chaotic brawl, seemed to reach a breaking point. They began shouting, and the entire mass surged forward, knocking Infinity, Desmond, and dozens of armed natives and refugees to the ground.

“Don’t let them get away!” Infinity screamed. Several bodies were sprawled on top of her, but she managed to push her head up out of the tangled mess in time to see the hundreds of refugees without venomcrooks swarming forward and throwing themselves at anyone emerging from the melee. Within seconds, the natives were overwhelmed and flattened against the ground by the sheer number and weight of the refugees.

“Stop. Stop fighting!”

The voice had come from someone only a few feet from Infinity, but it had almost been drowned out by the screaming. Infinity crawled out from under a body and got to her knees. She realized she had lost her venomcrook.

“Stop this dad-blamed conflict!”

This was a different voice, a painted woman. The woman had been pinned to the ground by two refugees.

“Halt! No more fighting. We must listen to them!”

This one was a painted man, also pinned to the ground.

“They speak the truth!” cried another painted woman.

The plan was actually working. Painted natives were starting to see the mental images of Desmond’s plan. But their voices were still relative whispers in a storm of chaos.

Infinity got to her feet barely dodging a venomcrook swung by a painted man. She lunged at the native’s arm before he could swing again, grabbed it, and bit down on the flesh above his elbow. The guy howled and dropped the weapon. Infinity turned sharply, taking him to the ground.

“Desmond, here!” she shouted, holding the man down so Desmond could work his magic on him. But Desmond was no longer with her. She spotted him a few feet away, stuck beneath several writhing refugees. He was groaning through gritted teeth, pummeling his own left shoulder with his right fist, obviously in unbearable pain.

“Desmond!” Infinity started to get up but couldn’t without releasing the painted man beneath her.

“Here, Infinity, I got this one.” It was the refugee Gretchen, and she grabbed the man’s neck and closed her eyes.

Seconds later the man stopped struggling. “What in damnation?” he said, his eyes wide with puzzlement.

“You see it now, don’t you?” Gretchen said to the man.

“I do see,” the man said.

Infinity released the native and got to her knees again. The fighting was gradually slowing down. Bodies still twisted and convulsed with pain or rapture, but soon only a few painted natives were resisting, and those were quickly being subdued by refugees. Infinity crawled to Desmond’s side, grabbed his ankle, and pulled him free from the tangle of limbs and torsos.

He was clenching his eyes shut and hardly seemed to notice her. “Help me!” he grunted through his teeth. “Make it stop.”

Infinity grabbed his shoulders. “The pain will end soon. Hang in there.” Actually, she had no idea how long the pain would last.

“I can’t! Make it stop please!”

A venomcrook was thrust in front of Infinity’s face.

She turned. The weapon was held by a child, a girl no more than ten years old, painted mostly yellow but with smeared brown spots.

“Take it,” the girl said. “I set it to dole out rapture, and rapture’s a whole mighty world better than the pain he’s suffering.”

Infinity eyed the girl. She then took the venomcrook and pushed the exposed tendon to the side three times. Just in case the kid wasn’t as sincere as she seemed.

Desmond turned on his side and retched, but nothing came up. When he was finished, he raised his head and saw the venomcrook. He grabbed Infinity’s wrist and pulled the weapon toward his face. “Do it! Make it stop.”

Infinity snatched the venomcrook with her other hand and held it beyond his reach. She yanked her wrist free and backed away.

“How long does the pain last?” she asked the painted girl.

“I ain’t suffered it but once,” the girl said.

A native man behind the girl said, “He’ll live through it. I don’t recommend dosing him with rapture right now, no matter how much he begs for it. Ain’t many folks got a mind that can handle both at once. He might never be the same after it’s said and done.”

Infinity knew the man’s words were true. She had survived simultaneous doses of pain and rapture, but it had been one of the hardest things she’d ever experienced. In fact, she felt lucky to have held on to her sanity. What if Desmond wasn’t that lucky?

“Infinity, please!” Desmond cried.

She looked around at the refugees and natives. Many of them were incapacitated by their own struggles with pain or rapture. But the fighting was over. The painted natives now understood what their future could look like. Many of the refugees had been smeared with the natives’ body paint during the conflict, making it harder to distinguish between the two groups. The two separate herds were becoming one.

Infinity tossed the venomcrook onto a bare patch of ground a few yards away, hoping she would never have to touch one of the damn things again.

She pressed her body against Desmond’s and put her arms around his shoulders. “You have to trust me,” she said. “Rapture will only make things worse. I’m here with you. We’ll get through this together. Show me what you’re experiencing.”

Seconds later, whether he’d intended to or not, Desmond did show her.

Infinity stiffened. Searing pain spread through her body, and desperate pleas for help flooded her mind. She almost cried out, but instead she pulled herself even closer, determined to cling to him until his suffering passed.

21

Cipher

September 3 - 10:37 AM

Desmond continued holding his eyes shut long after the worst of the pain had subsided, fearful that the slightest movement would trigger another wave of nerve-abrading agony.

“You going to live through this, partner?” Infinity whispered near his ear.

To avoid having to move, he spoke telepathically. “I think so.”

Infinity had lain beside him throughout the ordeal. Had it been hours or minutes? Her comforting presence had more than made up for the excruciating waves triggered by her occasional movements against his skin. During the last few minutes, she had filled him in on what he’d missed—most importantly, that his plan had so far worked. The painted natives had agreed to try coexisting with the refugees, as long as the mongrels provided enough sustenance.

She moved her head slightly. “Can you open your eyes?”

He pried his eyes open enough to squint at her.

“You look like shit,” she said.

He closed his eyes again. “Thanks,” he said, this time speaking aloud. “You actually look pretty good.”

She released him and sat up. “Group thirty-six will arrive soon. So you and I have a little more than an hour before bridge-back. As much as I’d like to lay with you until then, I need to see if there’s any last-minute help I can give these colonists.”

Desmond groaned and tentatively sat up beside her, triggering only slight pinpricks. He rubbed his eyes, trying to get them to focus on three greenish shapes near his feet. Gradually his vision cleared. The three shapes were miniature musk monkeys, sitting on their coiled tails and staring back at him with black-marble eyes.

“What’s their deal?” he muttered.

“What’s their deal?” one of the creatures said in a high, warbling voice.

Desmond frowned and rubbed his eyes again. All three of the musk monkeys rubbed their eyes, mimicking his movement.

“They’ve been hanging around,” Infinity said. “All forty of them.”

“All forty of them,” one of the creatures repeated.

Desmond blinked and looked around at the rest of the bridge-in site. Refugees and painted natives were everywhere, talking to each other in small groups. Peacefully, without fighting. Desmond heard louder, more aggressive voices to his right, and he turned and squinted. Refugees and natives were working together to hold a dozen or so people against the ground.

“Rapture madness,” Infinity said, noticing his concern. “With any luck, those poor bastards will recover like I did.”

“Poor bastards will recover like I did,” one of the musk monkeys parroted.

More miniature musk monkeys were scattered about the area, most of them sitting and watching humans. What did the mongrels think of these new musk monkeys? Would they suspect Abel had provided assistance to the refugees?

“I need to talk to the mongrels again,” Desmond said.

“Talk to the mongrels again,” a warbling voice repeated.

Infinity shook her head. “That’d be pushing your luck.”

“Pushing your luck.”

Infinity waved her arms, shooing the diminutive creatures. “Go bother someone else!”

The creatures jumped to their feet and scampered off.

She turned back to Desmond. “Seriously, don’t even think about it.”

“I have to know if the mongrels intend to accommodate the entire colony.” He hadn’t told her about the mongrels’ mention of a key hidden in the Outlander’s signal.

Infinity gazed at him, her lips pursed. Finally, she said, “Then I’ll do it this time.”

Desmond shook his head. “That’s a bad idea. When the mongrels speak to someone, they have this ritual. Apparently it helps them better understand the person they’re speaking to. Somehow they force you to live as alternate versions of yourself—spending just a few seconds as each version. Hundreds of alternate versions, each in a different timeline. The process is unsettling, to say the least.”

“Then you shouldn’t have to go through it a second time. It’s my turn.”

“That’s my point, though,” Desmond said. “Since they’ve already done it to me once, I don’t think they’ll see a need to do it again. And even if they do, I seem to have recovered from it relatively well. The feral I talked to, the guy they call Reason, he became permanently despondent after the mongrels did it to him. I don’t want you to take that risk. It’s kind of like you not wanting me to take doses of both pain and rapture. You were concerned that I wouldn’t handle it as well as you have, which was probably true. Well, I’m concerned you may not handle the mongrels’ shenanigans as well as I have.”

Infinity thought about this for a moment. She nodded. “Good point.” She was silent for a moment. “I know what probably happened to that guy, Reason. From what you said about the ferals, they live in a constant state of deprivation and starvation. I bet every one of those alternate versions of himself was far better off than he was. How would you feel if you found out your own life was the worst of all possible versions of yourself?”

Desmond blinked at her. “Now you’ve made a good point.” He rolled to his side and pushed himself up onto his feet, wobbling a bit. “But I’m still talking to the mongrels.”

“I see you ain’t dead yet.” It was Abel. The creature was walking by, carrying three venomcrooks in his upper left hand and one—presumably his own—in his lower left hand. He stopped next to the mongrel bubble and deposited the extra weapons on a pile of others. “I reckon that’s dang near all of them. I sure as shooting stars ain’t gonna abide their presence around here. I reckon—at least for the moment—that I’ve convinced the painted herd that unfettered access to rapture ain’t in their best interest. But soon they’ll be singing a different tune. They’ll be hankering for rapture like they got no recollection of what happened here today.”

“I want to thank you, Abel,” Desmond said. “Without you, I don’t think our colony would have much of a chance in this place.”

Abel came closer, ambling on two feet and two hands. “Every dawn brings a new day. Every day brings new prospects, presumptions, and perils.”

“Okay,” Desmond said. “Is that good or bad?”

“Good one day, but only for some folks. Bad another day, but only for other folks.”

In spite of the circumstances, Desmond had to smile. “Thanks for clarifying.”

“It’s a matter of fickle fancies,” Abel said. “If this here herd can amuse the mongrels’ fickle fancies, and if they can do so day after day, then they may live to see the sprouts of spring. And maybe other springs after that.”

“I hope you’ll remind our people of that whenever they need reminding,” Desmond said.

Abel seemed to fix his black eyes on Desmond, but it was impossible to know for sure. “A musk monkey’s job ain’t never done. I’ll do what I can do. Either way, old Abel’s life will be more interesting for it.”

“What are you going to do with all these little musk monkeys?” Desmond asked, nodding toward one that had been following Abel.

“Mongrels don’t typically keep but one musk monkey per bailiwick. But I reckon I’ll be needing help around here, this being such a plenteous herd. If the mongrels don’t further transfigure them into varmints, they may prove useful.”

“I be useful,” said the little creature at Abel’s feet.

Abel blew out a puff of air. “That’s yet to be reckoned.”

Abruptly, ten yards away, group thirty-six appeared at the bridge-in site, the last of the refugees. They cried out in alarm, doubling over with dry heaves, and half of them went to the ground in a heap. A few dozen refugees and painted natives approached the newcomers and began the almost impossible task of explaining the world in which they had just arrived.

“That’s all of them,” Infinity said. “One hour until bridge-back. Anything we need to do, we’d better do it now. I need to give one last pep talk to the colony.” She glanced at the mongrel bubble and then eyed Desmond. “For the record, I don’t want you going back in there. But you probably will anyway. If so, be damn careful. I’m not convinced those things can be trusted.”

“I’ll be careful.”

Infinity turned and headed away from the bridge-in site, stepping over a few miniature musk monkeys that seemed undecided about whether to follow her or stay near Desmond. Her movements were labored and stiff, and Desmond wondered if this was partially caused by his mental projections of his own suffering. He hadn’t intended to hurt her like that—it had been out of his control—but he was grateful beyond words for her dogged determination to ease his torment.

She stopped about thirty yards from the bridge-in site and stepped up onto a fallen log. “I need everyone except for the new arrivals and the people who are briefing them to come over here.”

Refugees and natives alike began moving toward her.

Desmond turned to Abel. “Where does the painted herd actually live? Where do they take shelter in the winter?”

“There’s a cave two hollers that way.” Abel pointed. “Much bigger than that feral cave you seen. But a herd this size? That’ll be a mite bit interesting.”

Desmond swept his gaze over the hundreds of naked natives and refugees. “Well, hopefully they’ll be building structures for a village soon.”

“That would be a day unlike any I’ve been a witness to.” Abel gestured to the translucent bubble looming nearby. “If you’re buggy enough to go in there and chew the fat with them mongrels again, you best watch what you say. A few foolish words might just nullify the deal previously haggled between you and them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Desmond said. “But I need to talk to them.”

“Chaos and clutter,” Abel said. “You’ve an aptness for chaos and clutter.” The creature then wandered off, presumably to continue searching for the last of the venomcrooks.

Desmond walked around the edge of the bubble until he was out of the herd’s sight. Then, he stopped and held out his right hand, his palm inches from the membrane. Seconds later, swirling eddies in the fluid indicated one of the mongrels had moved into position. Was it staring back out at him? Did it even have eyes?

Wasting no time, he took a breath and uttered the sequence of animal sounds Reason had taught him. The membrane bulged out, and he pressed his palm against it. His hand passed through almost immediately. A mongrel grabbed hold of it and pulled until his entire body had passed through the membrane.

“Breathe,” the voice said in Desmond’s head as the force on his hand continued pulling him toward the middle of the mongrels’ domicile.

Easier said than done. Even though he’d been through this before, and even though he was determined not to wait until his lungs were on fire, it took tremendous willpower to give in and blow out his air. But he did, and then he sucked in the fluid, triggering involuntary bodily spasms. Before long, he was able to relax enough that he could begin steadily drawing in oxygenated fluid.

“You perplex us,” the voice said. “You seem to have persuaded our herd. How in tarnation did you effectuate such an accomplishment?”

Did the mongrels suspect that Abel had provided assistance? Could they tell that Desmond’s mind had been altered by Abel’s venomcrook? Desmond would need to choose his words carefully. “As I told you before, my people are skilled at forming relationships with other humans. These relationships are what I believe you’ll find most fascinating about humans now that you are going to allow both herds to coexist in a natural state.” He hesitated. “You are going to allow this, right?”

“You do perplex us,” the voice repeated. “We are curious. We reckon we’ll observe. Perhaps your people will live in harmony with the natural state of the land, perhaps they won’t.”

“My people want to survive. They’ll do whatever it takes. Will you provide sustenance for both herds? There are now more than eight hundred between the two.”

“We will, until your herd is no longer heedful of our conditions.”

“Please be understanding of the fact that they will make some mistakes in their endeavors. Mistakes are part of the learning process for humans, part of their natural state. Please do not kill them or banish them when they make these mistakes.”

The mongrels did not respond to this.

Desmond decided he’d better not push them too hard. Plus, there was something else he needed to know. “When I last talked to you, you told me about a key to the bridging machinery. And you said you might share it with me if my people and I were able to convince your herd to cooperate with us.”

“We’ve a notion to do just that. Perhaps when you return to your world, you will make some use of the key. Though from what you’ve said, it seems your world is wanting for salvation but is beyond healing.”

“I—we—would appreciate anything that might give us the slightest chance.”

“Fair enough,” said the voice.

Several seconds of silence followed. But then Desmond was overcome by an onslaught of mental noise, like a dozen metal gears grinding at the same time. It was chaotic, and if it contained information, he could make no sense of it.

He put his left hand to his temple. “Stop!”

The grinding noises stopped.

“Whatever that was, I couldn’t understand it,” Desmond said. “And there’s no way I could reproduce it when I return to my own world. Could you represent the information visually? Something I can see with my eyes?”

“Perhaps you ain’t configured to make heads nor tails of the key.”

“Maybe not, but I’d like to try.”

“Honestly, you’re as persistent as a three-year drought. Perhaps this cipher will suit your fancy.”

A grid of symbols appeared in Desmond’s mind, as clearly as if it were being displayed before his eyes, although his eyes were closed. The symbols were unfamiliar to him, but they were relatively simple, most with only a few lines and curves. They were arranged in a grid with about thirty rows and thirty columns.

“This is the key to the bridging machinery?”

“The key is what you asked for. Why in thunder would we show you anything else?”

Desmond opened his eyes, instinctively wanting to gaze upon the face of the being who had spoken with such sarcasm. But of course he saw only blurry fluid beyond the grid of symbols. “What I meant was, is this all there is? It looks like there are less than a thousand symbols here.”

“It’s all you need. The key ain’t thorny, knotty, or complicated. And the cipher is mathematical. If you can’t make heads nor tails of it, you ain’t suited to hold the key in the first place. Like we said before, it’s about thinning the herd, in a rather grand way.”

“Understood,” Desmond said. He focused his attention on the grid of symbols before him. There were a lot of them, but he had memorized more than this before. One time, as part of a bet with Lenny and Xavier, he’d memorized the first two thousand digits of pi, resulting in them taking over the dishwashing and apartment cleaning for two months.

Abruptly, the symbols disappeared.

“I need more time!” Desmond said. “Will you allow me to study the symbols until I have committed them to memory?”

“Goodness gracious,” the voice said. “Drudgery and toil.”

The symbols returned.

“Thank you,” Desmond said. He then set to work memorizing the grid. He had no idea whether the characters were supposed to be read by rows or by columns, from the top or from the bottom, from the left or from the right. Regardless, he needed a system to help him remember them long enough to scrawl the entire grid onto paper immediately after bridging back. Maybe no one would be able to decipher the symbols, and maybe the information they contained would be of no value. But so much was at stake—he had to try.

And he had less than an hour to do it.

22

Tobias

September 3 - 11:42 AM

Infinity squinted through the bubble’s membrane. She could make out Desmond’s form, perhaps twenty feet in, but suspended particles in the fluid made it impossible to see finer details. He was still moving every few seconds, so at least she knew he was alive. How long had it been? Half an hour? What the hell could they be talking about for that long?

A chorus of voices drew her attention away from Desmond. She walked around to the other side of the sixty-foot bubble, where refugees and painted natives were gathering near the membrane.

One voice rose above the others. “It is just as you have said it would be. Bounty beyond reckoning!”

Infinity pushed her way through the crowd of naked bodies to see what the fuss was about. As she approached the membrane, she saw that the bubble was in the process of secreting a granular, brown substance through a six-inch opening. The substance was accumulating on the ground in a pile that was already several feet tall. Painted natives, smiling broadly, were scooping up armfuls of the stuff and carrying it off through the throng of onlookers.

It was food, what the natives called sustenance. But to Infinity, it looked like the bubble was taking a massive crap on the ground. She pushed farther forward and scooped up a handful of the stuff. It was surprisingly dry, like powder, but the particles clung together, like brown sugar. Its smell was not unpleasant, reminding her of mixed nuts. She watched a few of the refugees—people no doubt accustomed to eating high-dollar meals at fancy restaurants—take tentative bites. Their faces seemed to indicate that the stuff tasted about like it smelled, not bad but certainly not good. But perhaps the refugees’ lukewarm expressions revealed more about their acceptance of their new normal than about the food’s taste.

But there certainly was a lot of the stuff. The mongrels were making good on their promise, at least for now.

Infinity withdrew from the crowd and began pacing back and forth, looking into the mongrel bubble at every turn. On the fourth repetition, she looked beyond the bubble and noticed a figure with yellow limbs and a black torso, reclining against a tree, one hand pressed against his side. She picked her way through the brush and kneeled beside Nehemiah.

“Your ribs are probably cracked,” she said. “It’s happened to me before. Hurts like hell for a few weeks. Make an effort to keep breathing deeply, even if it hurts, otherwise you might get pneumonia.”

Nehemiah gazed at her silently for a moment, but then he nodded.

“By the way, I’m sorry,” Infinity said. “My job is to protect my people, and things were kind of, you know, going to hell at the time.”

Again, Nehemiah nodded.

“How’s the other guy I hurt? The man who was painted all green?”

“His name was Tobias,” Nehemiah said. “You maimed his face and diminished his dignity. He will no longer burden the herd.”

She blinked. “What does that mean?”

“His share of the allotted sustenance will be available for another, as he has gone to the wild land to live as a feral.”

“He left your herd because of what I did to him?”

“As I will, when I am able to walk. It is our way. Our allotted sustenance is only for the proud and the strong. I am no longer either.”

Infinity stared at him. “Limited sustenance isn’t something you have to worry about anymore. The mongrels will now provide for your herd and mine, over eight hundred people. All of your lives are about to improve.”

Nehemiah glared at her. “Leave me in peace, woman. You and your kin are from a different land. You come here with your mind trickery, giving false hope to those who ain’t ever gonna have nothing more than what the mongrels want them to. You’re poison, that’s what you are. Leave me be!”

Infinity sighed and rose to her feet. “It sounds to me like you’re afraid of change. But change is coming whether you want it or not.” She turned and started walking back toward the bubble.

Nehemiah’s words had darkened her mood. Before talking to him, she had begun allowing herself to think this colony had a good chance of surviving. It hadn’t occurred to her there might be an insurmountable cultural gulf between the refugees and the natives.

When she was back near the bridge-in site, she stood and silently watched attorneys, civic leaders, politicians, and business people interacting with natives who’d had their civilization destroyed a hundred years ago. Just yesterday, Infinity had considered these refugees to be the worst possible candidates for establishing a colony in a hostile environment. Now, though, in spite of Nehemiah’s words, she was beginning to suspect they might be better-suited to the challenges of this world than any other group could have been. If they could continue to hold the interest of the mongrels, and if they could form a civilization that meshes with the new natural state of this land, they would have a chance.

Infinity made her way around the mongrels’ bubble until she was as close as she could get to Desmond. She gazed through the membrane at his distorted form. He was still moving occasionally, gesturing as if he were talking to the mongrels. Or perhaps contemplating something. What in the hell was taking him so long?

A familiar prickly, wet sensation washed over her entire body, and then the forest, the bubble, and the mongrels were gone.

* * *

12:01 PM

Infinity landed lightly on the padded floor of the bridging chamber. Her nausea passed quickly, and she rushed to Desmond’s side. He was sprawled on the floor, choking, trying to catch his breath. The bridging process had emptied the mongrel fluid from his lungs, but apparently the sudden switch from breathing liquid to breathing air had been a shock to his system.

She put a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

He coughed a few more times and nodded. “I need—” More coughing. “I need something to write with. A table with pencils and a poster board or large paper.”

“Bridgers, are you okay?” Armando said through the comm system. “The med techs are on their way in.”

“We’re fine!” Infinity shouted. She turned back to Desmond, who was trying to stand up. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

“I need pencils and large paper—now!” he shouted, looking toward the people behind the observation window. He took Infinity’s offered hand and let her pull him up. “I’ll explain when I can, but I need to write this down before I lose it.”

The airlock door hissed and popped open, and four techs rushed into the chamber.

Desmond repeated his request a few more times with increasing desperation until two of the techs led him from the chamber to the lab.

Infinity turned to the viewing window. Armando Doyle, Reese Eagleton, and Celia Pickett were gazing back at her.

“Infinity, it’s great to see you alive,” Armando said.

Infinity started to reply but the building began shaking. Armando, Eagleton, and Celia remained silent as the tremor continued for at least a full minute. Finally, it tapered off.

“Has that been happening often?” Infinity asked.

“More frequently with every passing hour,” Armando said. “And they’re getting stronger. We anticipate that the bridging device will only be functional for another day or two.”

Infinity’s gut tightened, and she stared at them through the plexiglas. “Another day or two?”

“How did it go with colony ST5?” Eagleton asked. “Are their prospects favorable?”

Infinity shook her head. “Not so much. The destination world was nothing like what we’d hoped for. We had lost as many as a hundred fifty by bridge-back. The rest have a fair chance at best.”

Eagleton frowned. “What the hell happened?”

“It’s a long story. But we wouldn’t have made the mistake of sending them there if we’d taken time to do an assessment excursion.” Even as she said it, Infinity knew this was no longer a valid argument. An assessment excursion would just now be returning with bad news, and then the whole process would have to start over. Eagleton had been right, but Infinity wasn’t about to tell him that.

Another thought occurred to her, based on Abel’s reaction yesterday to questions about the small musk monkey among the bio-probe animals. “That green creature that returned with the bio-probe—where is it?”

“It’s still in containment,” Armando said. “Why?”

“We have reason to believe it might be dangerous.”

“Should I have it destroyed?”

She considered this. “Not yet. Just make sure the techs know not to touch it.”

Armando nodded. “Go on in to the lab, Infinity. We’ll meet you there.”

Infinity followed the two remaining techs through the airlock.

Poppy Safran was waiting in the lab. She grabbed Infinity’s shoulders to hold her still. Then she turned her around, giving her body a cursory inspection. “Jesus, Infinity. What happened to the back of your head?” Infinity had long since gotten used to Poppy asking this question about whatever wounds she had sustained during her most recent bridging excursion.

Infinity scanned the lab and spotted Desmond at the far end, hunched over a table, furiously writing or drawing something. “My head will have to wait,” she said. “Armando and Eagleton want to talk to me.”

Poppy grabbed Infinity’s arm. “I heard what they said. They’re coming to the lab to speak with you. So you will sit right here while I get started on this mess you’ve made of your scalp.” Pulling on Infinity’s arm, she dragged her over to an exam table and forced her to sit on the edge. She then handed Infinity a paper gown. “You may want to put this on.”

As Infinity donned the gown, the outer airlock hissed and popped open. Armando and Eagleton came in without biosuits or masks. Infinity realized no one in the lab was wearing a biosuit, which likely meant they all expected to die soon anyway.

“So enlighten us,” Eagleton said, wasting no time. “What chance of survival do you think colony ST5 has?”

Poppy was wiping the back of Infinity’s head, which made it hard to concentrate.

“Seventy percent in the short term. Fifty percent in the long term.”

Eagleton and Armando exchanged grim looks.

“I suppose it could be worse,” Armando said.

The building began shaking again, and everyone paused, looking up at the ceiling as if expecting it to come crashing down. After about thirty seconds, the tremor stopped.

Eagleton cleared his throat. “We don’t mean to be insensitive to whatever you’ve just been through, but things have changed in the last thirty-six hours.”

Infinity’s heart sank. “It’s too late to try to bridge colony ST6, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” Eagleton said. “But we intend to try. The problem is the entire electrical grid for this region is down. Probably permanently this time. SafeTrek’s been relying on backup generators for almost thirteen hours now.”

Armando spoke up. “Our generators weren’t really designed for long-term use, especially not for activating the bridging device every hour of every day. As we speak, we’re having five diesel generators installed, with reinforced housings mounted on fluid damping systems. The new generators will likely outlast the SafeTrek facility itself. But switching to the new power system will cost us precious hours. It could take the rest of the day and into the night.”

Eagleton jumped in, as if the two had agreed to tag-team the discussion. “And so we’re planning to start bridging colony ST6 at 7:00 AM.”

“If the facility is still standing at that point,” Armando added.

Eagleton looked at the floor for a moment and then glanced around as if he were about to reveal a secret. “I hate to say this, but we’re operating on the assumption that ST6 will be our last colony. Therefore we’ve re-shuffled the refugees from ST6 and ST7 to form a single group that’s more representative of the best interests of the human species.”

Infinity stared at Eagleton and then glanced at Armando. “What does that mean? You went out there and told some of the refugees they’re no longer part of ST6?”

“Be glad you weren’t here for that,” Armando said. “The situation got ugly.”

Infinity shook her head. “I bet it did.”

Armando stepped forward and, to Infinity’s surprise, took one of her hands in his. “What we’re trying to say is we need you and Desmond to lead colony ST6. We’ve hand-picked over fifty national guardsmen, including the guy you recommended, Gideon Stead. The rest of the 718 are a mix of highly skilled men and women from a variety of professions, all of them physically fit and of reproductive age. Desmond’s two friends, Lenny Stiles and Xavier Cahill, will be in the group, as they’ve had bridging experience. Poppy here, as well as most of the other med techs, will also be with you.”

Infinity looked Armando in the eye. “And?”

He half-smiled. “I’ll be going as well, although I hardly consider myself to be worthy.”

Infinity realized she had stopped breathing, and she sucked in a deep breath of air. Billions of people would soon die, along with every plant and animal on Earth. The scale of the tragedy was beyond comprehension. And she was partly responsible for it. She had tried to redeem herself in one small way by helping a few colonies of refugees in their attempts to escape and survive. But she had no way of knowing the outcome of these efforts. She would never know. Now she had been given the opportunity to help one more colony. And this time she’d be there beyond the initial thirty-six hours. She would remain with the colony for the rest of her life. She would know, one way or the other, whether she’d had any impact at all on the survival of the human species. And even beyond her guilt and her need to help, she felt a desire to finally have peace—and a life with Desmond.

“We’ll be ready,” she said, barely above a whisper.

23

Practice

September 3 - 12:56 PM

Desmond finished writing the last row of figures and sat back to look over the entire grid. He ran through all the symbols again, starting with the top row and working from left to right. As far as he could tell after checking his work, all the symbols were correct and in the right order. He finally allowed his mind to relax. He was exhausted from concentrating on row after row of symbols he couldn’t comprehend.

He rubbed his eyes, anticipating what it would feel like to lay his head on a soft pillow. He unfolded a paper gown the techs had given him and quickly put it on before carrying the poster board over to the table where Infinity was talking to Armando Doyle and Reece Eagleton.

“You finally going to explain what you’ve been doing?” Infinity asked.

Desmond held up the grid of symbols. “Well—” He hesitated. Perhaps explaining verbally wasn’t the most efficient way. Did he still have his telepathic ability? “I want all of you to humor me for a moment.” He held out his left hand. “Please place a hand on my arm.”

“You gotta be kidding,” Infinity said, narrowing her eyes at him.

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t try.”

She shook her head and put her hand on his. “You might as well go ahead and do it,” she said to Doyle and Eagleton.

Frowning, Doyle put his hand over Infinity’s.

“No,” Desmond said. “It needs to be on my arm, against my skin.”

Doyle moved his hand to Desmond’s wrist.

Desmond gazed at Eagleton, waiting.

Eagleton sighed and then complied, putting his hand on Desmond’s forearm.

Desmond turned to the med tech. “Poppy, you too.”

“Hold on,” she said. She snipped a stitch on the back of Infinity’s head, set her scissors down, removed her latex glove, and put her hand on his elbow.

Desmond concentrated on arranging a sequence of visions of his encounters with the mongrels. He then consciously projected these visions outward, forcing them from his mind, through his arm, and into the hands and to the minds of his audience.

Infinity sighed. Doyle and Poppy widened their eyes in surprise.

Eagleton pulled his hand away and stepped back. “Good God in heaven, man!”

“I’m not finished,” Desmond said. “Please put your hand back.”

Now fascinated, Eagleton returned his hand to Desmond’s arm.

Desmond resumed the process of pushing out his thoughts. He showed a few crucial visions of the painted herd and Abel, including Abel’s plan to dose every refugee with mind-projection serum. He showed the mongrel bubble, along with what the mongrels had done to the entire planet. He showed his entrance into the bubble’s fluid, and his discussion with the nearly invisible beings. And he showed himself receiving what the mongrels called the key to the bridging machinery, as well as the importance of whatever information was contained in the key.

“You can let go now,” he said.

Everyone but Infinity had closed their eyes, apparently to process the mental imagery more easily. They now opened their eyes and withdrew their hands.

Infinity gave his hand a firm squeeze before pulling hers away. “I guess bridging didn’t strip away your thought-projection ability,” she said.

The others stared at Desmond as if they were looking at a two-headed snake.

“Ignore the fact that thought projection should be impossible,” Desmond said. He held up the poster board again. “This is supposedly a cipher to the bridging technology key. The beings who gave it to me had discovered a way to use the bridging machinery without destroying their own world. And they implied that other capabilities of the technology could be unlocked with the key. They said the key was actually embedded in the Outlanders’ instructions, so we must have missed it. Perhaps it’s too late for us to make use of it—I don’t know. But I wanted to get the information back here, just in case.”

“Ignoring the fact that you just projected your thoughts into our minds would be quite impossible,” Doyle said. “But for the moment, I’ll try.” He took the poster board from Desmond and studied it. “There must be a thousand symbols here. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that someone capable of projecting thoughts could also memorize this.”

Desmond shook his head. “The two abilities are unrelated. What’s your impression? Can we do anything with this information? Can we even decipher the symbols?”

Armando continued staring at the grid. “If there is meaning to this, the folks at SETI can decipher it—I can almost guarantee that. They learned a lot from deciphering the Outlanders’ radio signal, even if they missed this.”

Eagleton was still staring at Desmond in disbelief. “I’ll get on the SAT phone and let Washington know what we have. The internet has become pretty much nonfunctional of late, but I’m sure they’ll have a way for us to transmit an image of these symbols. Either that or they’ll do things the old-fashioned way and send a chopper. If these symbols contain any valuable information, someone will figure it out.”

He took the poster board from Armando and turned to leave but then paused. “It could be days before we know more about this. Colony ST6 will still begin bridging at 7:00 AM. I assume you are all still on board?”

Desmond, Infinity, Poppy, and Armando looked at each other and then nodded.

Eagleton exited the lab through the airlock, which had been left standing wide open to the rest of the facility.

* * *

3:19 PM

Desmond stared at the remains of his pasta salad. Beside it on his tray was a pile of protein bar wrappers. It had been almost forty-eight hours since his last meal, and he had no idea how long it might be before his next, but he was too full to eat another bite.

“Twenty years,” Xavier said. “I know it’s a done deal and I have no say in the matter, but twenty years? You know we’re all going to have to decide whether to meet the alternate versions of ourselves, right?”

Xavier and Lenny were sitting across the table from Desmond and Infinity. Xavier was referring to the twenty-year divergence point for the destination world selected for colony ST6. The reasoning for this divergence point had involved a tradeoff. With only twenty years since divergence, it was unlikely the societies on the alternate world could have collapsed, like those on the mongrel world. The problem with this, though, was that twenty years ago was only fifteen years before the SETI institute had discovered the Outlanders’ radio signal. It was possible that at that point the sequence of events leading to the discovery had already been set in motion. However, it was also true that the discovery had been a rather random event and may not have happened in most alternate timelines. And even if the signal had been discovered, it may not have been effectively deciphered, or humans may have wisely decided not to build bridging devices.

Desmond had actually seen that this last possibility was real. When the mongrels had somehow thrown him briefly into the lives of several hundred alternate versions of himself, more than half of those versions were completely unaware of bridging technology.

“Perhaps, brother,” said Lenny, “you’re afraid to find out your alternate self has made more of himself than you have. He might already have his PhD and be a tenured professor. Wouldn’t that suck?”

“As a matter of fact, it would suck,” Xavier said. He then looked across the table. “Infinity, how do you feel about the possibility of meeting your alternate self?”

Desmond watched her, curious.

She shrugged. “Not likely to happen. In nine out of ten do-overs of my last twenty years, I’d have ended up dead. I doubt there will be another me to meet.”

The table fell silent for several long seconds.

“Damn,” Lenny said. “How about you, Des?”

Desmond considered this. Thanks to the mongrels’ strange ritual, he had already seen a disturbing variety of his alternate versions. “I’d prefer not to meet him.”

Lenny put his fork down and pushed his tray away. “Well, someone here needs to be upbeat about this. I do want to meet my other self. Why? Because I think it’d be cool to have a twin. The guy will like me, for sure. I mean, how could he not? He’s me, right?”

Xavier said, “If he’s as annoying as you are, you may not like him.”

Desmond laughed. “I have to say, I’m glad you guys are going with us. But right now I’m so tired I can’t think straight.” He got up from the table.

“As of 7:00 AM,” Infinity said, “Desmond and I will hold the world record for back-to-back bridging excursions. It’s never been done before because bridgers believed no one could survive it.” She got up from the table without explaining further.

“You’re a ray of sunshine today, Infinity,” Lenny said.

Desmond eyed her. “They believed no one could survive it?”

She glanced at him without smiling.

Desmond shook his head and turned to Lenny and Xavier. “Get yourselves as hydrated as possible tonight. Even with a divergence point of only twenty years, there’s no way to know what we’ll bridge into.”

Xavier nodded and held up his water bottle.

“You got it, Des,” Lenny said.

* * *

September 4 - 3:49 AM

Trucks, backhoes, and forklifts now occupied the training lawn behind SafeTrek. LED floodlights lit the area as technicians and machine operators worked furiously to set up and install the generators.

“Well, this isn’t what I had in mind,” Desmond said to Infinity as he propped open the back door to the SafeTrek facility with the empty water bottle he’d just drained. He had hoped they would be able to sit on the grass in the silent darkness one more time. After all, these were their last few hours on this earth. After dinner, they had slept together in his bunk for ten hours, and now they both felt the need to get out of the building for a while.

“This way,” Infinity said.

He followed her to the edge of the lawn and into the forest, finally stopping at a half-buried granite boulder the size of a minivan. They crawled on top of it and sat facing away from the harsh lights. Infinity took a drink of her protein water and set the bottle down between them.

A few seconds later, the ground began quaking. After about twenty seconds of moderate tremors, the quake intensified, and Desmond had to grab the bottle to keep it from tumbling off the rock. The rumbling went on for what seemed like a full minute. Desmond heard some of the workers swearing in frustration.

He turned around to check on the SafeTrek building—no visible damage. Fortunately, the block-like structure had been designed to withstand natural disasters, although no one at the time could have known what was coming.

Infinity scooted her body in front of Desmond’s and leaned back against his chest, a position in which they had both found comfort since the first night they’d spent together. On that night, they had been hiding from killer bird men, high in a tree on another version of Earth. Huddling together had been nothing more than a survival tactic that night, but since then this position had become more meaningful.

Infinity turned her head to the side to avoid resting her stitches against Desmond’s skin, and they sat this way in silence for several minutes, staring up through the trees at the stars. The sky seemed non-threatening, with no aurora borealis to foretell the devastating disaster that would soon destroy every living thing on the planet. No one and nothing would escape. Unless they were lucky enough to bridge to an alternate world in which humans had never used bridging technology.

“I suppose you’ll lose your stitches when we bridge,” Desmond said.

Infinity shrugged slightly. “Didn’t really need them anyway.”

Desmond put an arm around her, resting his hand on her belly. “Everything feels different this time.”

“What do you mean?”

“This time we aren’t coming back.”

“How about we don’t talk about tomorrow,” she said. “I just want to be here in this moment, this night. With you.”

“Okay.” He gazed up at the stars. “You and I have been through a lot. We almost didn’t make it this time. And I suspect both of us have been changed as a result. I still can’t quite believe I can talk to people with my mind.”

“It’s kind of creepy, but I suppose it could be useful at times.”

Desmond thought about this. He hadn’t had much time yet to consider the ways his ability could be useful. On a whim, he envisioned the most erotic scenario he could think of. It involved an isolated, sun-drenched beach and several mutually-climactic seconds of love making with Infinity. He then pushed that mental vision from his mind into hers.

Infinity inhaled sharply, and her entire body stiffened. She moaned and pressed herself back into his chest. “Yeah,” she whispered,“your ability could definitely be useful now and then. But if you ever do that to someone else, your life might be suddenly shortened.”

He pulled her even closer. “Deal.”

She let out a brief chuckle.

After a few more minutes of silence, she slapped his knee with her palm. “You said you thought both of us had been changed. How am I changed?”

“Well, now that you bring it up, I was thinking about your ordeal with the venomcrook. Apparently rapture is pretty much the most pleasurable feeling a human could ever experience, right?”

“You do remember it almost killed me, right?”

“Yeah, well. My point is, how am I supposed to compete with that?”

She slapped his knee again, this time harder. “Are you serious?”

It was his turn to chuckle. “Not really. Well, only partially. I kind of meant it as a joke.”

She actually laughed aloud, and her laugh carried on for many seconds, as if she were finally releasing an immeasurable burden.

“Okay,” she said after her laughter trailed off. “You want to compete with rapture? A few years of practice would be a good start.”

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Author’s Notes for Bridgers 3

Some of you may have questions. So I have decided to offer my thoughts on a few things related to Bridgers 3: The Voice of Reason. These topics are in no particular order, and they may not even be important to most people. But I like to contemplate things like this.

How devastating was the mongrel invasion of this version of Earth? This story is based on the idea that a bizarre species of intelligent life, the mongrels, bridged to this version of Earth in 1927 and basically reformed the entire surface of the planet into what they thought was its most natural state. They transformed all cities, machinery, paved roads, and other human-made things back into soil, along with many of the human inhabitants. In 1927, the world population had just hit two billion. In the region of Missouri forest depicted in Bridgers 3, there are about 250 painted natives and 50 ferals in a four-square-mile area, which is about 75 humans per square mile. Assuming this population density is uniform throughout the state of Missouri (a very iffy assumption), and since Missouri is 69,700 square miles, this means the population of Missouri would max out at 5.2 million. This is only 1 million less than the population of Missouri today.

Based on those calculations, you might assume that almost as many humans could live on Earth with the mongrels present as would be possible without the mongrels. But this assumption would be wildly off the mark. Why? Because the mongrels do not allow humans to construct shelters. The mongrel bailiwick in this book is in an area of Missouri that happens to have a number of caves where humans could take shelter in the winter (although those caves are typically only 55-58 degrees F, that is a far cry better than sub-freezing Missouri winters). Most other places on Earth do not have caves or any other natural shelters. And many other places are far more hostile to human survival than Missouri.

So, the mongrel invasion was indeed a devastating event to this world.

How did the mongrels get to this world? That depends on whether you believe what the mongrels have told Desmond. They definitely arrived via bridging technology. But did they bridge their huge 60-foot, fluid-filled domiciles, too? Good question. The answer to this depends on whether you believe they really do have a “key” that unlocks the limitations of the bridging machinery imposed by the Outlanders.

What is this “key” all about? The mongrels claim that the Outlanders embedded a key to the bridging technology somewhere in the instructions the Outlanders transmitted into space. If you believe what the mongrels have said, this key allows certain civilizations to unlock additional features of the bridging device. For instance, it allows you to override the limitation of only thirty-six hours for each bridging excursion. And it allows the device to be used without creating the heavy particles that drift to the core of the planet and cause the planet’s destruction. In other words, it could be a very useful key.

Are the mongrels the Outlanders? This depends on whether you trust them to be truthful. They told Desmond they weren’t. Were they telling the truth?

Did the mongrels really evolve on an alternate version of Earth? I think this is certainly possible. As Desmond said, it all depends on how far back your divergence point is. If they came from a version of Earth with a divergence point of two billion years ago, this was about the time multicellular life appeared. At that point, the future direction of complex life forms was wide open. Considering we have nearly-transparent aquatic creatures such as jellyfish, is it too far fetched to imagine that transparent, intelligent creatures could evolve in a liquid substrate? And if they did, it seems to me that a big step in that species’ gradual expansion over the planet would eventually involve mobile—perhaps even living—domiciles allowing them to move out onto the land. Kind of like the opposite of our submarines. So, yes, it’s possible the mongrels originated on an alternate earth. The question is, did they?

Why don’t the mongrels have machines? The mongrels have developed a different kind of technology. Instead of mastering the manipulation of solid raw materials such as stone and metal, they have mastered the manipulation of biological systems. Their “machines” are living things. Their domicile bubbles are living things. Even their weapons, such as the venomcrook, are living things.

Where did the musk monkeys come from? These creatures either originated on the mongrels’ own version of the earth (assuming you believe the mongrels aren’t aliens from another planet other than the earth), or they are creatures the mongrels picked up from another version of Earth they visited at some point. Due to the mongrels’ obvious physical limitations on dry land, they need musk monkeys to carry out many tasks they cannot or prefer not to do themselves.

Why do the musk monkeys and local humans talk the way they do? Well, remember that the mongrels arrived on this version of Earth in 1927, and they immediately brought a halt to human industrial progress. In this rural region of the Midwest United States, the language continued to evolve, but not in the same way it would have without the mongrels’ presence. Most references to man-made objects eventually disappeared, and all phrases typically became derived from the context of living in a wilderness setting. And, of course, there are some phrases that survived from the time period of the early 1900s. Since Abel (and the mongrels) needed to communicate with the local humans, they adopted the local language and phrases.

Are the venomcrooks really alive? And how do they work? As stated above, the mongrels mastered biological (organic) technology, rather than mechanical/electronic technology. They can create and transform living tissue at will. The venomcrook is just one example of this. These living weapons were created to help musk monkeys subdue local humans and keep them in line, often by forcing them to become addicted to rapture. Venomcrooks were designed by the mongrels in such a way that the “venom” administered could be altered by manipulating an exposed tendon on the handle. In this way, the user (usually a musk monkey) could choose between pain, rapture, or any number of other terrible consequences. The venomcrooks were intended to be used by musk monkeys, but that didn’t prevent the mongrels from providing some for the natives and the refugees, just to make the imminent conflict more entertaining for the mongrels to watch. Those mongrels and their shenanigans!

Why the title, The Voice of Reason? This title refers to several different aspects of the story. In a very literal sense, it refers to the actual voice of the feral named Reason, which Desmond had to learn to emulate in order to initiate communication with the mongrels. In a more figurative sense, it refers to the challenge of getting the painted natives to listen to and agree to Desmond’s plan for combining the two herds.

Okay, what about the rather mind-bending concept of the possible existence of infinite parallel universes?

While there are certainly cosmologists who are skeptical of the concept, it is important to point out that multiple parallel universes is not a theory. Scientists did not simply come up with the idea using their imaginations. Instead, the concept is a mathematical consequence of our current theories in physics, particularly quantum mechanics and string theory.

If we assume that quantum mechanics and string theory are not completely wrong, then it is important for scientists to examine all of the mathematical consequences of those theories. Even if those consequences (such as parallel universes) seem strange to us. This is often how science moves forward.

There are at least five plausible scientific theories that suggest the existence of multiple universes (the “multiverse”). My favorite of these is the concept of “daughter universes” suggested by the theory of quantum mechanics. Quantum mechanics describes things in terms of probabilities, rather than definite outcomes. The mathematics of quantum mechanics suggest that every possible outcome of every situation actually occurs—in its own separate universe.

Everything is made up of tiny particles, and what this “daughter universes” concept boils down to is that there could be infinite parallel universes, each of them differing by the position of only one particle.

The concept boggles the mind. But it certainly makes for a fun story.

Acknowledgments

I have the following people, among others, to thank for their assistance with Bridgers 3: The Voice of Reason.

When it comes to editing, my son Micheal Smith is extremely talented, and his tireless and meticulous suggestions are invaluable. If you find a sentence or detail in the book that doesn’t seem right, it is likely because I failed to implement one of his suggestions.

My wife Trish is always the first to read my work, and therefore she has the burden of seeing my stories in their roughest form. Thankfully, she kindly points out where things are a mess. Her suggestions are what get the editing process started. She also helps with various promotional efforts. And finally, she not only tolerates my obsession with writing, she actually encourages it.

I also owe thanks to those on my Advance Reviewer team. They were able to point out numerous typos and inconsistencies.

Finally, I am thankful to all the independent freelance designers out there who provide quality work for independent authors such as myself. Jake Caleb Clark (www.jcalebdesign.com) created the awesome cover for Bridgers 3: The Voice of Reason.

About the Author

Stan Smith has lived most of his life in the Midwest United States and currently resides in Warrensburg, Missouri. He writes adventure novels and short stories that have a generous sprinkling of science fiction. His novels and stories are about regular people who find themselves caught up in highly unusual situations. They are designed to stimulate your sense of wonder, get your heart pounding, and keep you reading late into the night, with minimal risk of exposure to spelling and punctuation errors. His books are for anyone who loves adventure, discovery, and mind-bending surprises.

Stan’s Author Website
http://www.stancsmith.com

Feel free to email Stan at: stan@stancsmith.com

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There’s More To This Story!

That’s right—Bridgers continues. Infinity and Desmond have much more work to do. Will colony ST6 get a chance to bridge out?

Be sure to check out the next book in the series, Bridgers 4: The Mind of Many.

And coming soon:

Bridgers 5 and Bridgers 6

Infinity (this is what readers have been asking for—Infinity’s story. How did she go from living on the streets to becoming an elite bridger for SafeTrek?)

Books by Stan C. Smith

The DIFFUSION series

Diffusion

Infusion

Profusion

Savage

Blue Arrow

The BRIDGERS series

Bridgers 1: The Lure of Infinity

Bridgers 2: The Cost of Survival

Bridgers 3: The Voice of Reason

Bridgers 4: The Mind of Many

Stand-alone Stories

Parthenium’s Year