went to her.
“Are you …?” He couldn’t think of what he’d intended to say.
Gloria shrank from him, shaking her head. “Don’t touch me,” she whispered, her face red and swollen. “I don’t know where I am. Where is this place?” She was trembling.
“You’re … here.” It was all he could think to say. “Don’t worry.” Why he added that, he couldn’t imagine. His mouth tasted funny and seemed to be over-salivating. He swallowed, sensing an odd metallic taste, but couldn’t figure out why it seemed familiar. Feeling dazed and disconnected from his body, Ned went in search of the bathroom. He found it with difficulty and clumsily flipped the light switch.
An explosion of light seared his retinas. Slowly he let out his breath and tried to relax. He made himself remember that he’d dropped acid with a friend and three strangers, that they were all accounted for, and that he was here, in the flesh, in a hotel bathroom staring at his reflection in the mirror over the sink.
The face that stared back at him was his own, yet not. The eyes were wrong. Then he realized with a shock that the pupils were vertical slits in a yellow field. Drool pooled in his open mouth and spilled over his chin. The face was morphing before his eyes, turning serpentine and filling the glass until it shattered with an ear-splitting crash. Then he was writhing on the floor under the full weight of the reptile as it wrapped its coils around him, squeezing his breath and life out.
Ned tried to scream but no sound came out. He fought harder, thrashing to free himself from the death adder’s grip. In his head he heard its rasping voice.
“At last!”
Ned struggled and bashed his head against the floor, trying to dislodge the serpent’s hold. Its enormous fangs slashed at his face as he rolled to the side. They struck his neck with such force that his carotid artery was severed and his hot life’s blood poured out, salty sweet, over his face and chest.
“Damned human!” it hissed and spat poison in his ear. “My kind should never be coupled to a human! We eat them for sport!”
Fangs slashed at him again. Ned crashed against the side of the bathtub, his mind screaming. “Wh-what are you?” he managed through clenched teeth.
“What am I, the human wants to know.” The adder’s eyes turned blood red, its fangs yellow-white. “Quinkan. QUINKAN!” The voice scraped Ned’s brains raw. “SAY IT!”
“Q-Qu-Quinkan,” Ned choked, every muscle in his body convulsing.
“The serpent’s not my preferred form,” it hissed, “but I know it’s a shape you loathe.”
“W-what do …” Ned beyond articulating.
“What do I want? Your father was next to useless. But you, you can find where your bastard grandfather hid the tjuringa and put it back where it belongs. Then you and I can part company.” Venom dripped from its fangs onto Ned’s cheek.
And then Ned found his voice. He screamed and screamed, raking his throat raw, emptying his crushed lungs of air. And still he screamed, as if by that one ragged sound he could remain attached to the shred of humanity that was Ned Waterston. If he stopped, he knew beyond doubt, that he would be lost for all time.
Chapter 8
July 10, Sunday—Present Day
Screams ripped the air, explosions boomed one after another. Panicked voices yelled over the din.
“They’re attacking the pilot trainees’ barracks!”
“What news of Lieutenant Zechs? Is he safe?”
More booming and screeching sirens. Shouts disappeared in the crash of masonry collapsing under steel girders. It was a cacophony of destruction.
“Nik, could you turn the TV down?” Alice buried her face in the pillows.
“Ja, sure. Sorry.”
Alice got up and shuffled down the hall. So much for sleeping in on the weekend. Nik and Margaret were ensconced on opposite ends of the long sofa bisecting the single large room that served as living and dining area. The southward
“Are you …?” He couldn’t think of what he’d intended to say.
Gloria shrank from him, shaking her head. “Don’t touch me,” she whispered, her face red and swollen. “I don’t know where I am. Where is this place?” She was trembling.
“You’re … here.” It was all he could think to say. “Don’t worry.” Why he added that, he couldn’t imagine. His mouth tasted funny and seemed to be over-salivating. He swallowed, sensing an odd metallic taste, but couldn’t figure out why it seemed familiar. Feeling dazed and disconnected from his body, Ned went in search of the bathroom. He found it with difficulty and clumsily flipped the light switch.
An explosion of light seared his retinas. Slowly he let out his breath and tried to relax. He made himself remember that he’d dropped acid with a friend and three strangers, that they were all accounted for, and that he was here, in the flesh, in a hotel bathroom staring at his reflection in the mirror over the sink.
The face that stared back at him was his own, yet not. The eyes were wrong. Then he realized with a shock that the pupils were vertical slits in a yellow field. Drool pooled in his open mouth and spilled over his chin. The face was morphing before his eyes, turning serpentine and filling the glass until it shattered with an ear-splitting crash. Then he was writhing on the floor under the full weight of the reptile as it wrapped its coils around him, squeezing his breath and life out.
Ned tried to scream but no sound came out. He fought harder, thrashing to free himself from the death adder’s grip. In his head he heard its rasping voice.
“At last!”
Ned struggled and bashed his head against the floor, trying to dislodge the serpent’s hold. Its enormous fangs slashed at his face as he rolled to the side. They struck his neck with such force that his carotid artery was severed and his hot life’s blood poured out, salty sweet, over his face and chest.
“Damned human!” it hissed and spat poison in his ear. “My kind should never be coupled to a human! We eat them for sport!”
Fangs slashed at him again. Ned crashed against the side of the bathtub, his mind screaming. “Wh-what are you?” he managed through clenched teeth.
“What am I, the human wants to know.” The adder’s eyes turned blood red, its fangs yellow-white. “Quinkan. QUINKAN!” The voice scraped Ned’s brains raw. “SAY IT!”
“Q-Qu-Quinkan,” Ned choked, every muscle in his body convulsing.
“The serpent’s not my preferred form,” it hissed, “but I know it’s a shape you loathe.”
“W-what do …” Ned beyond articulating.
“What do I want? Your father was next to useless. But you, you can find where your bastard grandfather hid the tjuringa and put it back where it belongs. Then you and I can part company.” Venom dripped from its fangs onto Ned’s cheek.
And then Ned found his voice. He screamed and screamed, raking his throat raw, emptying his crushed lungs of air. And still he screamed, as if by that one ragged sound he could remain attached to the shred of humanity that was Ned Waterston. If he stopped, he knew beyond doubt, that he would be lost for all time.
Chapter 8
July 10, Sunday—Present Day
Screams ripped the air, explosions boomed one after another. Panicked voices yelled over the din.
“They’re attacking the pilot trainees’ barracks!”
“What news of Lieutenant Zechs? Is he safe?”
More booming and screeching sirens. Shouts disappeared in the crash of masonry collapsing under steel girders. It was a cacophony of destruction.
“Nik, could you turn the TV down?” Alice buried her face in the pillows.
“Ja, sure. Sorry.”
Alice got up and shuffled down the hall. So much for sleeping in on the weekend. Nik and Margaret were ensconced on opposite ends of the long sofa bisecting the single large room that served as living and dining area. The southward
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