The Lost Level, page 13
To this day, I still can’t explain why I chose to do what I did next. As I sit here in this abandoned school bus, reflecting back on my time in the Lost Level and all of the things that have happened to me, my actions that night still perplex me. (I say night with irony, here in this land of perpetual day). I’ve made many mistakes during my life as an inter–dimensional castaway, and there are several of them that I wish I could take back, even though they seemed like the right thing to do at the time. But this one just confuses me. Maybe my actions were spurned by familiarity or curiosity. Maybe it was because, unlike our previous mechanical encounter, I could read the lettering on this robot’s hull. It was something from my world, or a world similar to mine, albeit from the future. I recognized the name Globe Package Services, of course. If you’re from my level, I’m sure you do, as well. In my time, they were the biggest package delivery company in the world and just one division of the massive Globe Corporation, an international conglomerate with so many subsidiaries and special interests that I doubt even the company’s shareholders were aware of them all. Private security, computers, oil drilling, entertainment, fiber optics, medical technology and research, communications, publishing, food production, mining—they seemed to have a hand in everything, an infinitely–tentacled hydra of industry and finance. Some said they were too big. Indeed, in my time, there were conspiracy theorists who said that Globe secretly controlled the world—that they were the Illuminati and the New World Order all rolled into one. I wasn’t sure about any of that, but judging by the robot, they had apparently taken over from the postal service at some point in the future.
Anyway, I don’t know what compelled me to break cover and step out from behind my tangle of vines, but that’s what I did. The robot remained where it was, hovering above the road. I took a few cautious steps toward the thing, wary of its reaction. I clutched my dagger in one hand, wishing too late that I’d brought another weapon from the camp. My pulse pounded in my throat as I waited to see what the robot would do.
“GREETINGS TO YOU, CITIZEN. NICE WEATHER WE ARE HAVING. IT IS ANOTHER SUNNY DAY.”
Its voice was deep and booming and didn’t sound at all mechanical. I was too stunned for a moment to speak and merely stood there gaping. Then, I cleared my throat and raised my hand in greeting.
“Hello.”
I heard Bloop and Kasheena stirring behind me, roused from their sleep by the robot’s voice. But before I could turn to look for them, the machine spoke again.
“WARNING. TAMPERING OR INTERFERING WITH A DESIGNATED POSTAL CARRIER IS A FEDERAL OFFENSE, PUNISHABLE BY LAW. PLEASE LOWER YOUR WEAPON. FIRST NOTICE, AS REQUIRED BY STATUTE 81739.”
“Lower my…?” Confused, I realized too late that the hand I’d raised in greeting was the hand holding the dagger. I quickly lowered my arm. “No, I’m sorry. I was just waving. I mean you no harm.”
“THAT IS GOOD, CITIZEN. TAMPERING OR INTERFERING WITH A DESIGNATED POSTAL CARRIER IS A FEDERAL OFFENSE, PUNISHABLE BY LAW.”
“Yes, so you said. Listen…what are you, exactly?”
There was a brief pause, as if the robot was not sure how to answer the question and was calculating the best response.
“MY DESIGNATION IS GLOBE PACKAGE SERVICES UNITED STATES POSTAL DELIVERY UNIT 222–321–412. I AM TASKED WITH THE DELIVERY AND COLLECTION OF ALL INGOING AND OUTGOING MAIL ALONG THIS ROUTE.”
I considered this. It was a bit surprising that, if the robot was from the future as I suspected, there was still physical mail delivery. It seemed only natural that in the future most mail would have been phased out in favor of electronic communications.
“Where are you from?” I asked. “And when?”
“THE SAN DIEGO HUB IS MY OPERATIONS CENTER, CITIZEN.”
“San Diego? Can you return there?”
“NEGATIVE. MY NAVIGATION EQUIPMENT IS CURRENTLY MALFUNCTIONING. NORTH IS MISSING. MY NAVIGATION EQUIPMENT WILL NOT FUNCTION PROPERLY UNTIL NORTH RETURNS.”
“North is…missing?”
“AFFIRMATIVE.”
“So, you’re stuck here, just like the rest of us.”
“NEGATIVE, CITIZEN. I AM A GLOBE PACKAGE SERVICES UNITED STATES POSTAL DELIVERY….”
“You said that already,” I interrupted. “If you can’t find your hub, if you have no place to return to, then what are you doing here?”
“THIS IS MY DESIGNATED ROUTE. I AM TASKED WITH THE DELIVERY AND COLLECTION OF ALL INGOING AND OUTGOING MAIL ALONG THIS ROUTE.”
Before I could respond, Bloop and Kasheena rushed up beside me. Bloop carried a sword in each hand, and Kasheena brandished one, as well, along with the handgun she’d recovered from the Anunnaki. I opened my mouth to warn them about the robot’s aversion to weaponry, but the mail carrier beat me to it.
“WARNING, CITIZENS. TAMPERING OR INTERFERING WITH A DESIGNATED POSTAL CARRIER IS A FEDERAL OFFENSE, PUNISHABLE BY LAW. PLEASE LOWER YOUR WEAPONS. SECOND NOTICE, AS REQUIRED BY STATUTE 81739.”
Bloop responded by growling. Kasheena held out the pistol, offering it to me, but I waved her away and turned back to the robot.
“CITIZEN, YOUR PET IS REQUIRED BY LAW TO BE LEASHED IN MY PRESENCE SO THAT IT DOES NOT INTERFERE WITH MY DUTIES. IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS CONCERNING THIS LAW, PLEASE REFERENCE REGULATIONS 7162353 AND 7162354 FOR MORE INFORMATION.”
“Now, wait a minute,” I said. “First of all, he’s not my pet. He’s an intelligent being, just like we are. And secondly, he doesn’t mean you any harm. None of us do. They’ll lower their weapons.”
“I will do no such thing,” Kasheena said, “until I know that this creature means us no harm in return.”
“Bloop,” our furry companion agreed, hefting both swords higher.
“WARNING. TAMPERING OR INTERFERING WITH A DESIGNATED POSTAL CARRIER IS A FEDERAL OFFENSE, PUNISHABLE BY LAW. PLEASE LOWER YOUR WEAPONS. THIRD NOTICE HAS BEEN COMMUNICATED AND ACKNOWLEDGED, AS REQUIRED BY STATUTE 81739.”
Kasheena frowned. “What does that mean?”
“NOW COMMENCING DEFENSIVE MANEUVERS,” the robot replied. “PLEASE STAND BY.”
Another hatch opened in the mail carrier’s side, and three rods, composed of some type of flexible metal, emerged. They crackled with electricity, and the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood up. Bloop’s fur did the same. He looked like he’d just tumbled out of a clothes dryer. His bangs and whiskers puffed in front of his eyes, momentarily blinding him. The robot swung the metal arms at all three of us. Kasheena and I managed to dodge. I ducked low, allowing the rod to sweep over my head, while she darted to the left and jumped behind a tree. Bloop, still unable to see, was not so lucky. The third rod touched his shoulder, and he screamed and jittered. I smelled burning hair. Continuous spasms rocked him, and the current jolting through his body made him unable to let go of the swords. Kasheena popped out from behind her cover and fired a shot, but there was no discernable reaction from our foe. I don’t know if she missed or if its hull was just bulletproof.
The rod pulled away from Bloop, even as the other swung back around to strike at me again. I backpedaled out of range, furious at myself for only being armed with the dagger. I glanced around the ground, hoping to find a rock I could pelt the robot with, but before I could, the tips of the rods opened up, revealing pincer–like fingers. They seized Bloop—who had fallen to the ground, motionless, but still clutching both swords—by his shoulders and legs. Then they receded back to the robot. Clutching Bloop at its side, the mail carrier began to hover higher off the road.
“No!”
I rushed forward, dimly aware of Kasheena shouting at me, and leaped aboard the robot’s roof just as it began to speed down the road. I had to hold my dagger between my teeth and grip the sides tightly to avoid falling off.
“WARNING,” it said as we sped along, “TAMPERING OR INTERFERING WITH A DESIGNATED POSTAL CARRIER IS A FEDERAL OFFENSE, PUNISHABLE BY LAW. YOU HAVE BEEN GIVEN THREE NOTICES, AS REQUIRED BY STATUTE 81739. DEFENSIVE MANEUVERS ARE COMPLETE. FURTHER OBSTRUCTION SHALL RESULT IN OFFENSIVE MEASURES.”
I spoke through clenched teeth, enunciating slowly and desperately trying not to lose my only weapon. “I’m not trying to interfere with you, you goddamned bucket of bolts. Let my friend go, and we’ll continue on our way.”
“YOU CANNOT RECLAIM YOUR PET, CITIZEN. AS PER REGULATION 7162354, IT HAS BEEN DEEMED A DANGEROUS ANIMAL. YOU HAVE VIOLATED LEASHING LAWS. YOUR PET WILL BE EUTHANIZED UPON REACHING THE SAN DIEGO HUB.”
“But you don’t know where your hub is!”
“THERE MAY BE A BRIEF DELAY IN REACHING THE HUB UNTIL NORTH RETURNS. WE APOLOGIZE FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE.”
“Then let my friend go!”
“NEGATIVE. YOU MAY MAKE ARRANGEMENTS TO SECURE HIS REMAINS ONCE THE EUTHANASIA PROCESS IS COMPLETED.”
“The hell I will. I’m warning you, robot—”
“FAILURE TO FOLLOW COMMANDS REGARDING FURTHER OBSTRUCTION WILL RESULT IN THIS UNIT TAKING OFFENSIVE MEASURES. FINAL WARNING, AS PER STATUTE 81740. THIS UNIT APOLOGIZES FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE. PLEASE STAND BY.”
Our speed increased, and the landscape began to flash past. I risked a glance behind us and was dismayed to discover that our campsite—and Kasheena—were already gone from sight. From my vantage point atop the robot, I could only see the top of Bloop’s head and the tips of his ears. He remained in the unit’s mechanical clutches, gripped tightly against the side of the hull and immobilized.
That was when I noticed a small, sealed access door about a foot away from me. It was similar to the hatch that had opened on the robot’s side, but miniscule in comparison—about the size of a credit card. I wondered if I could pry it open with the dagger, but doing so would mean I’d only have one hand free to hang onto our speeding captor with, and we were traveling fast enough that I might fall off.
Seconds later, the robot made up my mind for me.
“NOW COMMENCING OFFENSIVE MEASURES. HAVE A NICE DAY.”
The panel door opened, and a small nozzle, similar to that of a garden hose, rose out of the hatch. It swiveled toward me, and then spurted a stream of noxious, greenish–black fluid. Only my quick reflexes saved me. I ducked flat, cringing, and hugged myself against the robot’s roof as the fluid arced overtop me and splattered a tree off to our right. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that the tree’s trunk was smoking and liquefying. Whatever the strange fluid was, it was obviously highly corrosive.
As the nozzle readjusted itself, pointing lower to take aim at me again, I allowed survival instinct to override my paralyzing fear and let go with my right hand. There was a brief, terrifying second where I thought I might plunge off the back of the robot, but I readjusted my balance and squeezed so hard with my left hand that I felt metal biting into my flesh. With my right hand, I yanked the dagger from my mouth. The nozzle unleashed another stream, but I slid to the left, and it overshot me again. My relief vanished as a crosswind scattered a few tiny droplets on my legs. Immediately, my flesh began to sizzle. The pain was excruciating—like a bee sting full of battery acid. I was nauseated by the chemical smell of my own skin burning.
Screaming, I struggled to maintain my grip. I returned the dagger to my mouth again. Biting down on it helped me focus through the pain. I pushed myself forward and grabbed the nozzle before it could fire again. I was able to swivel it away from myself easily enough. Reassured that I had a good handhold, I let go of the robot’s side with my left hand and retrieved the dagger once more. Then I jammed it into the hatch, driving the blade deep into circuitry and wires. I expected to be electrocuted for my efforts, but when that didn’t happen, I stabbed the robot’s innards again and again.
The pain in my legs was intense, and I suppose I momentarily blacked out—lost in some fugue state of panic, agony, and berserker rage. Eventually, I realized that my hair wasn’t blowing in the wind behind me and that we had stopped. The robot was still hovering above the road, but it was no longer moving or speaking or trying to kill me. It had also released Bloop, who clambered atop the roof to help me. He sniffed at my legs and then recoiled. I pulled myself into a crouch and was just about to begin cutting the flesh away to try to stop the damage, when he leaped off the robot and scampered into the woods.
“Bloop,” he called.
He bounded out of the trees clutching two great fistfuls of leaves. Using these, Bloop wiped the smoking corrosive from my skin, carefully making sure he didn’t get any on himself. When he was finished, he tossed the leaves over the side and then inspected my wounds.
“Bloop,” he said, nodding.
“Bloop, indeed,” I responded. “Thanks, buddy.”
The pain gradually subsided, and there was no further reaction. I stood experimentally and found that I was able to walk. After the wounds had clotted, Bloop helped me clamber down onto the road. The leaves he’d used to clean me were smoldering and blackened.
We inspected the robot. I’d been worried that it might recover and attack us again, or begin melting like the previous robot we’d encountered, but it did neither of these things. It was obviously still functioning. Hydraulics whined from somewhere deep inside its chassis. But it made no further move to attack us. Indeed, it didn’t acknowledge us at all. Nor did it continue on its way. It simply remained where it was, floating above the ground.
“Come on.” I clasped Bloop’s shoulder. “The hell with this thing. Let’s get back to camp. Kasheena is probably worried about us.”
But as we soon learned, Kasheena had other things to worry about.
We limped along the road, Bloop recovering from his electrocution and subsequent paralysis and me wincing at the damage to my legs. I stared at the horizon, expecting to see Kasheena coming in search of us, but the road remained empty. A sense of uneasiness came over me and grew with each passing mile. Bloop must have sensed it, too, for he hurried his pace, and I had to struggle to keep up with him. When we saw the familiar yellow mailbox, we both broke into a run. I winced in pain but pushed my own discomfort to the side. There was still no sign of Kasheena, and I now desperately felt that something was wrong.
We found the first dead Anunnaki a few yards into the forest. The reptilian had been shot through the head. We found three more snake men scattered around our camp. All of them were dead. One’s neck had been broken. The other two were shot. The clearing still reeked with their cucumber and mothball stench. It was clear enough what had happened. While Bloop and I had been gone, a group of Anunnaki had attacked the campsite. They had probably been watching us even before the mishap with the robot. I was certain that Kasheena would have pursued us, which meant that they had surprised her before she could leave. She had obviously killed all four. What was less obvious was her current whereabouts. She wasn’t in the camp, and after a hurried search, we discovered that all of our gear and weapons were missing, as well.
I cupped my hands around my mouth and called for her. “Kasheena!”
The only responses were the startled cries of a few birds and the echoes of my voice. I looked around the camp for any signs of her—a scrap of her loincloth, perhaps torn in battle, or maybe a few strands of hair ripped out by a branch, or even a splash of blood, but there was nothing. Panicked, I left Bloop to continue scrutinizing our campsite while I searched in concentric circles in the area around it. I had visions of Kasheena lying somewhere beneath the trees, wounded or unconscious. I looped deeper and deeper into the forest, until Bloop summoned me back again with a cry.
“What is it?” I panted, out of breath. “Kasheena? Did you find some sign of her?”
Bloop was crouched down on his haunches, studying the ground around the campsite. He motioned me over, and I knelt beside him. He made sure that he had my attention, and then pointed at the dead reptilians. Then, he drew four lines in the dirt with the claw of his index finger.
“Four,” I said.
“Bloop,” he agreed.
He then drew nine more lines and swept his hand toward the forest. After a moment, I realized what he was trying to communicate. There had been thirteen attackers altogether. Kasheena had managed to kill four of them, but the other nine had captured her and stolen our gear. He pointed at the nine lines again and once more gestured into the forest. Then, he waved goodbye.
“Is she alive? Can you track them?”
I gestured with my hands, and he must have understood me, because he grunted urgently and pointed into the forest.
“Then, come on,” I said, standing. “Let’s go. They’ve already got a head start.”
Snorting, Bloop beckoned at me to follow him.
“When we find them,” I said as we plunged into the undergrowth, “I intend to exterminate every single one of these motherfuckers once and for all.”
“Bloop!”
“My sentiments exactly, buddy. Let’s do this.”
10
THE COWBOY’S TALE
BLOOP TOOK THE LEAD, TRACKING the Anunnaki through the forest. He did this partly by scent and partly by subtle signs on the ground—half a footprint here and a broken twig or bent leaf there. We made good time, despite our injuries and exhaustion. It helped that we were no longer burdened with equipment, armor, or weapons. Bloop had given me one of his swords, and I carried that, along with my dagger. He clutched the other in one hand, using it occasionally to hack at branches or vines or other impediments. I think he did this more out of frustration and restlessness than anything else. I felt the same way. I wished for my .45, but enraged as I was, I would have been just as willing to confront Kasheena’s captors unarmed and tear them apart with my bare hands. At that moment, I was certain of my ability to do it.
We pressed on without stopping to rest, heedless of our physical condition. The forest was quiet. I took that to be a sign of the Anunnaki’s recent passage, but I suppose it could have been from our presence, as well. Occasionally, Bloop would pause and listen for a moment or sniff the air. Then, he would bound ahead again. At times, I had to struggle to keep up with him. I grew frustrated with his speed. I’m certain he was equally frustrated with mine. Had I not been with him, he could have swung through the trees and made better time.
