Episode 61

Angelo expected to die, having fallen from such a height into the pit of dreamers. But neither was he dead nor hurt, nor incommoded in any way. In fact he felt better than he did before they had jumped. And it was warm, whereas the pit had been icy cold…and there was now the homely smell of wood smoke. He looked around in the gloom, half expecting to see the snake, and saw a torch burning dimly on the other side of the room. Room? Most definitely. And then the soot-covered wooden walls of the little shack began to look horribly familiar. And there was another smell. He’d never forget that odorous sulphur smell.

“Home sweet home,” said a deep voice from the shadows, and Angelo squinted to try and see where Righteous was.

“We are back where we started…you and I,” he said.

“I don’t believe it,” said Angelo, quite prepared to believe anything. “We are back in your hut. I thought I had died and gone to heaven.”

“Ha, ha,” laughed Righteous. “Well, this may be my idea of heaven…”

“How did it happen? How did we get here? Is it real? Why aren’t we dead? Are we dead?”

“No. I believe we are still alive and that this is real. I believe too it was the power of the dreaming women that sent us here. I believe they saved our lives somehow.”

 “But what do we do now?” asked Angelo, already beginning to panic in case he never saw Rose again.

“I don’t know.”

“How do we get back? Can’t we teleport or something?”

“That is not possible, and not desirable. Remember the snake. We don’t want to end up in that pit again. Anyway, we do not have the power. The dreamers gave us the power to come here. But now…” Righteous shrugged. “Perhaps I could – on my own. But you are not suitable for such a journey.”

“Thanks,” said Angelo, half facetiously.

“On the other hand, I could not go without you – so…”

Angelo stared into space while he tried to think of what to do.

“We could alert the Federation…tell them what’s happened,” suggested Angelo. “They would send out a rescue party.”

“I fear that would take too long, even if we could convince them. They will be too cautious…and there will be too many questions,” said Righteous. “They will not make up their minds until it is too late.”

“Then we must find a spaceship to take us back.”

“Noot,” piped in a familiar voice from the darkness.

Before Angelo could comment on the fact that Noot was there too, there was a banging at the door of the hut.

“How long you gonna be in there. There are other people out here you know. We can’t wait all bloody day. Just like a bloody man…hogging all the action.”

Automatically Angelo turned and opened the door.

“About time. You’ve been in there for ages. There are other people waiting their turn you know.” Angelo got the shock of his life. It was the same woman with the peacock feather in her hat and the absurd sunglasses. For a full thirty seconds he could only but stare at her, dumbfounded, his mouth hanging wide open.

“I said - you’ve been in there for ages. Give someone else a turn you selfish sod.”

Angelo turned and looked at the row of faces lining the cliff edge. There was no doubt about it. It was the same group of people he had come with. This was much more than coincidence.

He turned to Righteous for an explanation, but no words came to his lips. Righteous however was way ahead of him.

“I told you we were back where we started. Literally.” he said. “Everything has happened and nothing has happened. We have completed our journey and we have not yet begun. We are back at the beginning again when you first stepped into this hut. No time has passed. And yet, even when it is all over, it will always be the same moment as now.”

“Do you mean that I imagined it all? The girls, Rose, going through the wormhole in that spaceship, the planet…the ice?”

“Well. You did and you didn’t. It depends on what you believe.”

“But what about Rose and Dutch and Sweet Mary? They’re real aren’t they?” said Angelo who was getting seriously worried about his sanity. “You gotta give me a straw to cling to.”

“Once again. It depends on what you believe…but yes. They are real.”

“And they’re still there…on that planet?

“I believe so…yes,” said Righteous with a slightly ironic twist of his mouth.

“But, if we are back at the beginning, that means we haven’t even met them yet. They’ll be here as well…in this solar system…somewhere.”

“When you two are finished talking crap, can we get on with it? The rest of us have lives to lead you know,” said the obnoxious lady, swaying somewhat precariously on the little bridge in front of the hut, but determined to make her stand.

“What do we do then?” asked Angelo.

“What do you think we should do? This is your story.”

Without a second thought he answered. “I think we should find a spaceship.” Angelo turned to the obnoxious lady once more. “I do apologise for taking so long; now please move back so I can get out.”

The obnoxious lady, with much humphing and hissing, had to back up across the rickety little bridge and onto dry land. Angelo was close on her toes, followed by Righteous.

“Hey! Where are you going?” she asked Righteous, outrage in her voice. “What about my turn?”

“I am afraid I have to go,” said Righteous, but they hardly heard what he said. Everyone was staring in wide eyed horror at Noot who had just emerged into the light behind them. Even the obnoxious woman was shocked into silence for a moment.

“What the hell is that?” she asked.

“That,” said Righteous, “is the reason I have to go away.”

“But what about us?” she continued, hardly able to drag her eyes away from the huge, crouching lizard creature. “What about me?” She was determined to get her turn with Santa come hell or high water, or giant lizards.

“I am sorry. I have to go now. But one of the others will take my place,” said Righteous.

“That is unacceptable,” she said, but Righteous had already walked past her and began talking to one of the Getham priests. Then he beckoned to Angelo and turned to go.

“Not much of a prophet, are you?” She shouted after them. “All this crap about how wonderful you are and the things you can do….it’s all just bullshit. You’re just a fake.” She shouted louder now, the hysteria growing in her voice. Righteous kept on walking, the other two tagging on behind, bowing their heads and trying to get away from the woman as fast as they could.

“MY BABY DIED!” she shouted and her whole face seemed to collapse in on itself. She just stood there, suppressed sobs wracking her body. She took off her sunglasses and her eyes were red and bruised from constant weeping. “My Baby’s dead,” she said plaintively.

Righteous turned around and came back to the woman. Gently he took both her hands in his and spoke in a deep soothing voice.

“I feel your pain.” he said. “But I cannot bring back the dead. That is one thing I cannot do. And you cannot bring back the dead either. You must let it go and pray for its safe journey onward. That is how you can help your baby.” He put his hand gently under her chin and lifted her face. “You must go home and grieve for seven days. More than that is unnecessary. Then you must put it all behind you and begin your life again, for I see many more children standing beside you. They are waiting for you. Your happiness is waiting for you.”

The women stared up into his blind face…tears running down her cheeks. She tried to speak, but words failed her and she closed her mouth again.

“You go home now.” he said gently. “And do what I said.”

With that he turned and marched off into the darkness.

*

A lighting ball zoomed past overhead, scorching the air as it went. It looked a bit like St Elmo’s fire, a luminous plasma ball that ran along the yardarms of the wooden ships in the good old days. This one however looked far more deadly…and sentient.

The little party skidded to a halt and watched as the ball came to a T-junction in the tunnel and stopped there, a dangerous bundle of electricity twirling and twining ominously about six foot off the ground, deciding which way to go. Then it shot forward down the left hand tunnel and the girls breathed a sigh of relief. Once more they began running, this time down the right hand tunnel. There were six of them running down this particular tunnel. The other girls had all spread out into similar sized groups and taken different tunnels in the hope of confusing their pursuers.

“I wish my boobs weren’t so big. I feel as if I’m going to knock myself out any moment,” said Sweet Mary. “I really wasn’t built for running.”

“Wouldst thou wish me to carry thee?” asked Gennetta.

“No it’s okay. Not unless I’m really slowing you down. I’ll manage somehow.”

But the cave tunnels were no friend to her soft human feet with their tender pads and thin skin, and soon she was in a fair bit of pain. But Sweet Mary refused to complain about it. If Dutch could stand it, so could she. Another sharp corner to the right and she had to put her hands out against the wall to steady herself.

“Keep running. It’s not much further till we get to the egg-ship.”

“What will happen to the others?”

“They will seek shelter deep in the mountain.”

Sweet Mary wanted to ask more questions but she had to save her breath for running. For a while she lost herself in the clack of claws on the rock floor as the Ahram women ran behind them. Then her thoughts reached out to her missing friends. Rose gone. Righteous and Angelo gone. Were they dead? Were she and Dutch the only survivors? And for how long? Everything was such a mishmash in her head. What a strange planet. And what strange creatures these Ahram were. But she liked them. Except for the Rider and the Seesh. It just seemed such a hopeless cause. These few cave-women were vastly outnumbered by the Contrata. And what happens once they escape? There’s nowhere to go other than the caves or the valley. And that poor Eric fellow with that green stuff growing all over him. Metamorphosis…that was the word. She’d seen it in a movie.

‘It looks awfully painful,’ she thought. ‘I hope that’s not what’s going to happen to us as well.’ She put out her hand and gave Dutch’s hand a quick squeeze. Dutch glanced at her and smiled. As long as they still had that, things would be okay. As long as she still had Dutch.

And then they all screeched to a halt. The tunnel ahead had caved in. It was a dead end. For a long time there was an unnatural silence. Gennetta, usually quick to make decisions and change tack with whichever way the wind was blowing, remained immobile.

“The Egg. This can only mean they have destroyed the Egg-craft,” she said very quietly. For a long time they stood in silence. Although the enormity of the loss could only be really appreciated by Gennetta, the rest of them could feel how badly it affected her: as if their last hope was gone.

“We have to go back,” she said in a lacklustre tone, “and find another way.” But Sweet Mary could see the tears in her eyes as she turned to go.

‘Perhaps that means she won’t see her boyfriend again,’ thought Sweet Mary. ‘But I rather think it means that we are all doomed’. Sweet Mary gave a little sigh and girded her ample loins for yet another marathon run. ‘Chubby girls should always be cheerful’, she reminded herself. ‘It’s their saving grace’. And with that she surged up next to Gennetta, bobbling and stumbling and almost tripping over some loose rocks because she wasn’t concentrating on her feet.

“I think it’s going to be alright you know,” she said to her, arms pumping at her side, sucking her breath in and out through her cheeks. “I would be seriously depressed if I didn’t think it was. But I’m not you know.”

Gennetta glanced gratefully at her.

“I thank thee for thy words of cheer,” she said. “It is true. While we are alive there is always hope.”

“But I do think we need some kinda plan,” said Dutch, behind them. “It will help. Any ideas?”

They all thought for a while.

“No,” said Gennetta. “Not yet. But I believe some opportunity will present itself to us. We must therefore remain alert.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Sweet Mary, satisfied that she had managed to turn the atmosphere around. Then she winced and bit down on her tongue to stop herself crying out in pain. Her poor little feet were really too sore.

And then she was in Dutch’s arms and her soles sighed with relief. Lovingly she put her arms around Dutch’s neck and laid her head on her shoulder. She really wasn’t built for this kind of thing. But at least she hadn’t complained. She couldn’t have been happier; jiggling up and down in Dutch’s arms was as close to paradise as she could get. But she really should lose a bit more weight. Poor Dutch, for all her strength and stamina, was starting to puff and wheeze a little bit under her burden. And then they all stopped. Once again they were confronted by a fork in the road.

“Eenie meanie miny mo,” said Dutch, pointing with her nose to the left. But within minutes the tunnel began to narrow and the roof descend on them till Dutch had to put Sweet Mary down and they all had to get down on their knees and crawl. Progress became painfully slow.

“I hope this doesn’t get much worse,” said Dutch. “Not another dead end.” But she could feel a breeze coming from up ahead so there must be a way through. The ceiling lowered even further until they were all forced to lie down flat and crawl like babies. And then it was squeeze time. Less than a foot remained of the gap. Sweet Mary turned on her back, easing her body through as best she could, fighting down a desperate urge to panic as she felt the weight of the cold mountain rock pressing down on her face, suffocating her. ‘Oh God what if I got stuck? No, no, no, no, don’t think negative thoughts’.

“Easy on girl,” said Dutch. “Don’t tense up. Just breathe…gently in….out…now move. Stop…breathe in…out…move. There you go. Not far now…I can see light ahead.”

Sweet Mary knew it was Dutch’s voice that got her through. She herself had secretly given up hope and was doing all she could just not to scream in horror. She was going to get stuck here and die. She knew it. There was also no hope of going backwards, a point punctuated by the occasional explosions behind them.

“Now turn your head sideways so you don’t scrape your nose on the ceiling. There you go. Just a little bit more and we’re there.”

“You’re a terrible liar you know,” said Sweet Mary, half crying and half laughing.

“I know,” said Dutch and laughed. “But that’s all I got.”

“You got me. So you better get me out of here.”

The Ahram women were having an even more difficult time of it. Although they were able to dislocate their joints at will that enabled them to squeeze through a ridiculously small space, their hefty thighs took quite a scraping against the rocks.

Then they were free, scrambling up a hill of scree and rocks and into a small cavern. Small in fact, it being merely a widening of the tunnel at this point, but to them it seemed the size of a ballroom. They sat down, wheezing and sobbing, blinded by the dust and sweat stinging their eyes. One of the Ahram women was already doing the rounds with a water-skin, giving everyone a small sip of the deliciously cool liquid. Sweet Mary wiped her face on the hem of the frock they had been given. That had felt so much better, having something to wear. At least now she and Dutch could look at each other without having to avert their eyes continuously. Sweet Mary began to feel like her old self again, but she hardly had time to recover and they were on the move again. The going was upright and easier, and as a bonus for Sweet Mary there was sand underfoot. Even better still, Gennetta set a somewhat slower pace now that the sounds of pursuit had faded into the distance.

They walked and walked through the ever winding tunnel until they were nearly asleep on their feet with exhaustion and the hypnotic plodding of one foot after the other on a never ending treadmill. Sweet Mary was sure they had walked from one end of the mountain to the other. Occasionally someone would stumble and bump against the others, or against the tunnel wall.

“It’s getting hot,” said Sweet Mary after she had done just that for the umpteenth time. “The walls are getting hot.”

Dutch and Gennetta immediately put out their hands to test the fact.

“We must be getting near a lava bed,” said Gennetta. “But there is no cause for anxiety.” Sweet Mary wasn’t so sure about that. She remembered the last time. There was very little good news in these tunnels. After a while the sand underfoot began to heat up too, and little puffs of steam could be seen rising from the cracks in the rock. Sweet Mary had to fight to stop herself from tip-toeing across the sand as one would on a hot beach. But they all began walking a whole lot quicker.

‘Out of the frying pan…’ she thought as she felt the hot air catch in her throat. She could feel her anxiety levels rise with the temperature and made a conscious effort to calm down by taking a few slow deep breaths. She looked at Dutch and saw she had a rather grim look on her ruddy face. Her own face must be glowing red too she thought. The Ahram however just remained the same green they always were.

The tunnel started widening out, the light getting brighter and redder. Soon they were standing at the edge of a lava-lake about half a mile in diameter, with a thin rocky ledge running round the edge. The red light from the lava lit up their faces with a diabolical glow. They all looked like little devils. Now and then a molten bubble would well up to the size of a house and burst with an ear-splitting ‘plop’, spewing globs of lava far and wide.

“If any of those bubbles burst near us we’ll be in serious trouble,” said Dutch.

“We must keep moving,” said Gennetta. “It is our only hope.”

For Dutch and Sweet Mary the trip around the basin of fire was one experience they would rather forget. They felt like they were being slowly cooked alive.  At one stage Sweet Mary fainted from the heat, almost pitching headfirst into the lava and had to be carried like a baby once more. The Ahram girls, being reptiles, were coping much better with the heat. Then they were climbing upwards into cooler air as the tunnel widened out and a wonderful light washed across the walls, daylight streaming in from the opening ahead. They were nearly out. Just one more rise and……

And there, floating on his platform just outside the entrance to the tunnel, was the Rider and a company of Contrata. A feeling of shock and hopelessness washed over the little group. After all their efforts, merely to land back in his hands again was a bitter pill to swallow. But swallow it they must. There was nothing else they could do. There was nowhere left to run. Hangdog, they all shuffled out of the cave and into the sunshine. The Rider stood on his flying saucer, smirking with delight. Then he raised his crozier in a victory salute and pursed his snoot in preparation to hoot.