I started toward the lich, rifle still aimed at its unmoving corpse in the off chance it was playing possum. I poked it with the barrel. It didn’t move. Even the emerald fire in its eyes had died out, now just barren sockets in a vaguely humanoid skull.

  The enchanted dagger lay in the grass right next to it. I carefully kicked the dagger to the side – the enchanted effect looked dangerous as hell, judging by how quickly it smoked that unlucky deer – so that I could bury it once I was finished disposing of the corpses.

  I grabbed the gas can and the lighter and some kindling then headed over to the lich first to get things going. I was just about to light the creature on fire when I remembered the book it had been carrying.

  I’d encountered a few texts from whatever dimension lay on the other end of the portals, but none had been written in a language I could understand. This time, though, something felt different.

  The lich had dropped the text after the second shot. I kicked its corpse to the side – it was shockingly light – and found the book lying beneath it. I pulled the book out, wiping dark purple blood splatter from the cover with my sleeve. It was heavy, thicker than an encyclopedia. Just like the other books I’d seen, both the cover and the pages within were covered in strange letters – runes and semi-repeating shapes drawn in sharp, almost angry-looking angles – that I simply couldn’t decipher.

  Of course, I always kept the books. Who knew, maybe one day I’d find a way to translate them, or maybe…

  “Shit!” I gasped, looking down at the strange pages, at the strange rune-based letters that were now rapidly shifting and dancing across the pages.

  I dropped the book into the grass and backed up, drawing my rifle again. Creatures from the portals rarely dropped anything worth taking. Monsters like goblins or orcs or skeletons usually carried crude weapons – swords, clubs, axes – that were no match for a rifle or even a good machete. ‘Higher-level’ monsters like liches or vampires or dark knights would carry more elaborate gear, but their weapons were often enchanted. I tried using an enchanted weapon once – a shortsword with a fire enchantment – and nearly set a tree ablaze. I hadn’t touched an enchanted item since, other than to bury it for safety.

  But I’d never seen an enchanted book before. I stared down at it, cautious, until I realized that all those angry-looking runes were now reforming into shapes I recognized.

  I stared in disbelief. The text had just shifted into the English language.

  Chapter Three

  The solar panels could wait. The same went for the loose ceiling beams for the barn and the creaking hinges on the corral gates.

  The book sat on the kitchen table, practically screaming for me to read it. I paced back and forth, a lukewarm beer bottle hanging limp between my fingers. I cracked it open an hour ago after letting a six-pack cool down in the fridge. So far, I hadn’t been able to take a sip.

  My hands were trembling, my heart racing. This was a goddamn game-changer.

  The cover of the book read, “A COMPLETE GUIDE TO SPELLCASTING FOR ALL MAGES, APPRENTICES TO MASTERS.”

  Yes, and I cannot stress this enough: The words were in English.

  My mind was racing too quickly for my thoughts to keep up. The possibilities and questions shot through my head like machine gun bullets.

  Could I actually learn magic?

  If so, could I use it to decipher other texts?

  Could I figure out how to close portals?

  Open them?

  Then, the million-dollar question: Could I use this book to figure out what happened to everyone on Earth who vanished? And if so…

  “No, no, don’t even think about it,” I said, suddenly frustrated with myself for letting my mind wander…and for getting my hopes up. “They’ve been gone five years, dude. Just don’t do it to yourself.”

  Finally, I took a sip of beer. The bitter, lukewarm taste was sour in my mouth, but it brought me back down to reality, even eased my nerves a bit.

  I sat down at the table, setting the beer off to the side, then brushed my fingertips over the book’s leather cover, tracing my fingers over the words set in faded white ink on the black leather, as if they’d been written in English all along.

  I opened the book. No sign of an author’s name. Certainly no copyright page. No prologue or introduction, either. It opened right up to a long table of contents. The chapter headings were noted by which school of magic they described, along with subchapters for various spells.

  I felt like a caveman looking at fire for the first time.

  Or a monkey that just picked up a handgun.

  I ran my finger down the edge of the table of contents, scanning the chapter headings, looking for…well, I wasn’t sure what I was looking for.

  There were chapters for offensive, elemental-based attacks, fire and ice and lightning, with subvarieties of each, rated by potency and the required skill level to cast them. It was cool, but it didn’t interest me. I’d taken on magic-using creatures – liches and more – and though hurling fireballs and lightning bolts looked pretty badass, I still preferred good old-fashioned weapons from my home dimension. A good rifle just seemed more reliable than elemental magic. If anything, I wouldn’t accidentally burn the house down or electrocute myself with a hunting rifle.

  My attention perked up when I saw the chapter on healing magic. There were spells for healing blunt force trauma damage – broken bones, bad bleeds – as well as magical damage. I saw healing spells for infections and poison exposure and more. It could all come in handy, obviously, but it wasn’t what I needed right now.

  There were levitation spells and telekinesis spells, spells for mind-controlling beings with low intelligence, spells for summoning undead creatures and enthralling wild animals. Again, all cool spells, but not what I was looking for.

  “Oh,” I gasped when I finally saw it.

  PORTAL MAGIC.

  It was a school of magic in and of itself. The subsections were dizzying. Portals for travel, for communication, for attack and defense. Portals of various sizes, ranging from portals small enough for a lone individual and portals large enough to accommodate entire armies.

  I noted the portal communication subsection and feverishly flipped to it. The spell practically popped off the page when I saw it.

  SEEK NON-HOSTILE BEINGS.

  I skimmed the spell, half-fearing that I was sleeping, that this was all just a dream, that I’d wake up with a start, devastated that…that…

  Up until then, I hadn’t let myself come to terms with just how lonely I’d been.

  Yeah, I’d seen other living and breathing humans since the vanishing, but only a few. Five, to be specific. None had been friendly. One especially. I winced when I remembered the guy, a knife through my heart when I imagined his face just before –

  “Stop it,” I told myself, only dimly aware that my eyes were welling up with tears, but the tears wouldn’t stop. They weren’t sorrowful tears, at least not completely.

  It had been three years since I last saw another living person. Since then, I decided to move on from the possibility that I might ever meet another. I resigned myself to accepting the situation, that being, that I might very well die before meeting someone else.

  That I might even be the last man on Earth.

  Well, now I would know for sure.

  Chapter Four

  I studied for a week before actually trying to cast any spells. I read through the entire chapter for portal magic, through every subsection, noting every little detail that might come into play.

  How to sustain a portal for a specific length of time.

  How to close a portal. (A game-changer in and of itself; this meant I wouldn’t have to wait around for hostile portals to close on their own.)

  How to ensure that, once I opened a portal, no enemies would come waltzing through it (which was NOT an exact science).

  Magic necessitated high meditation skills. That wasn’t a big deal for me. Being alone all these years, I became a big meditation practitioner, learning how to focus my mind, how to let go of meddlesome thoughts, how to regulate my emotions. It helped me from getting the blues, helped me to keep my mind from wandering while I was squatting in the bushes, rifle in hand, waiting for a portal to close in downpouring rain.

  Even translated into English, the incantations for the spells provided no background on the nature of the dimension beyond the portals. They were cryptic and obscure, almost poetic.

  I memorized them, meditated on them, and when I felt I was ready, I finally opened my first portal.

  I was cautious. I didn’t want to open a portal anywhere close to home, so I gathered my gear and rode my bike into town, by the church. (I wasn’t religious. I just wanted to be close to all that bottled holy water just in case I accidentally summoned a legion of ghouls.)

  I sat cross-legged on the sidewalk, my rifle sitting across my lap. I breathed deep, thrust out my right forefinger, and repeated the incantations in my head.

  For my first spell, I just wanted to open a short-range portal in this dimension only. Opening portals for specific locations was easy, provided you were close to that particular location. Learning how to manage longer-distance portals would take a lot of practice, according to the spell book.

  As I repeated the incantations, I felt a strange buzzing sensation in the back of my head, almost like I had a fly buzzing around in my skull.

  I blinked, then there was a small white flash, circular, widening, the edges growing firm but angular.

  “Well damn!” I laughed as I stared at the diamond-shaped portal crackling white hot in front of me.

  I looked to my left. Ten yards to the side, another portal opened. Or, I should say, the corresponding exit for the portal hovering in front of me opened. Staring into the portal openings, I couldn’t see a thing, just the usual garish white glow I’d seen from countless others.

  “Here goes nothing,” I whispered then picked up from a large pebble from the sidewalk. I tossed it through the portal.

  It popped out the other opening and clattered lightly across the sidewalk.

  “YES!” I shouted, hopping up onto my feet, pumping my fists.

  However, I didn’t celebrate long. Nor did I jump the gun and immediately cast a more powerful portal spell. I wanted to do this the right way. There was no reason to rush. I opened a few more local portals then gathered my things and biked back to the house, eager to study some more. Of course, I closed each portal before I left.

  Another week. Study and practice. No hostile portals opened. I put off my household chores for a few days – I made sure to keep the solar panels clean, but everything else could wait, save for tending to the animals – and kept my head buried in that spell book. I kept going into town to open my own portals, remembering to be cautious, even as I grew more confident in my skills.

  Then, after more than two weeks, I felt like I was ready. I could have put it off longer, you know. Part of me actually didn’t want to actually attempt to reach out and find another person. The hope had gotten addictive. If I found out now that I truly was the last person on Earth – or that anyone I might find would be a hostile nutcase – it would have been devastating.

  Yeah, I was terrified that this might all be for nothing. But I set those fears aside.

  I had to know.

  For my first ‘real’ portal attempt, I stayed at home, right outside my front porch. I had to combine several incantations to get the kind of portal I wanted…and to find the type of person I was seeking.

  Someone kind.

  Someone who shared my values.

  Someone I could trust.

  I sat down in the grass, my rifle sitting beside me, then crossed my legs and placed my hands on my knees, breathing deeply, my mind clear, focused and sharp yet relaxed.

  I whispered the various incantations under my breath and a portal sizzled open before me. Next, I whispered another, this one for a communication effect, one of the few incantations that was direct, without any cryptic language: “A friend awaits you through this doorway. The void is cold and lonely. No one wants to be alone.”

  For a moment, nothing happened.

  The portal hovered there, crackling, causing the grass beneath it to waver and dance. To the west, I heard the wolves howling. They must have sensed the portal opening.

  “C’mon, c’mon,” I whispered, staring into the blinding white glare.

  Then, a shape. Dark. Distant. Hesitant.

  I held my breath. The shape drew closer. A human being? I couldn’t tell. For all I knew, that shape was just another monster creeping up to the portal. I tried putting some warding effects on the portal to keep hostiles from stepping through it but, as I’ve mentioned, none of this was an exact science.

  The rifle sat next to me, in the grass. I lay my hand across the stock, but didn’t lift it yet.

  The shape turned into a slender silhouette. Whoever it was – whatever it was – they’d just stepped right up to the threshold.

  Then it occurred to me that whoever or whatever was standing there could probably see me, another dark shape. Realizing this, I slowly stood up – leaving the rifle in the grass – and held my hand up, giving a friendly wave.

  She stepped through the portal, about five and a half feet tall, slender, blonde, her hair brushed smooth over one bare shoulder.

  I stared at her, slack-jawed, like I was looking at something that, quite simply, shouldn’t have existed. She wore a tight, sleeveless blouse, the fabric a pristine white shade, the top three buttons unfastened. The blouse was short and fashionable, ending just over her midriff, baring hints of her stomach, a jade stone glinting subtly on a small navel piercing.

  She wore a tight denim skirt, a slit up the right side over the knee, baring her thigh, white and smooth with just a hint of definition, giving her a slightly athletic – yet ultimately softly feminine – look. Wherever she’d come from, she at least seemed to have a ready source of decent food.

  She wore gray boots, zippered up the sides, both coming up just over the crests of her ankles. I was never into fashion – back when such a concept still existed, anyway – but even I could recognize the word ‘CHANEL’ etched into the sides of the boots.

  She could have passed for a model doing a shoot for a magazine cover, if not for her shotgun.

  She had one hand on the stock, the other on the barrel pump. She held it confidently, like she’d used it before.

  I blinked twice, my mouth hanging agape. After being alone for so long, I simply didn’t know what to say.

  Neither did she. Her soft pink lips hung open, her tongue curled behind her teeth, her bright blue eyes wide, unblinking, disbelieving.

  “Hi,” I finally said. “I’m Bobby.”

  She raised the shotgun, the barrel pointed straight at me. “Are you a monster?”

  I chuckled, shaking my head. “No.”

  “Prove it.”

  I shrugged and put my hands up, chuckling again. “How?”

  She frowned. “Dunno.”

  “I’ve never seen a shapeshifting monster pretending to be a human,” I said.

  “I guess I haven’t either.”

  For a long time, we stood there, with her pointing the shotgun at me, her finger hovering near the trigger.

  “How’d you open that portal?” she asked. “If you’re not a monster, I mean.”

  “I found a book,” I said plainly. “A spell book.”

  “And you can read it?”

  I nodded. “I’m still learning the particulars.”

  She didn’t lower the shotgun, but I could tell she was considering it.

  “I have coffee,” I told her.

  “Instant?”

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  She lowered the shotgun. She smiled cautiously, but hopefully. “Like, coffee from an actual coffee maker?”

  I nodded. “Battery-operated.”

  “You’ve…you’ve got power. Like, electricity.”

  “Solar.”

  “Coffee,” she repeated, like she’d never heard the term before. “I’d like some.”

  I gestured toward my house, up the front porch, toward the front door. “This is my house. Would you like to come inside?”

  She held up the shotgun, looking past me, her eyes sharp, darting from one side to the other, like something might come bursting out the front door. “Is there anything in there I have to worry about?”

  I shook my head. “Just coffee.”

  Out back, one of my chickens clucked loudly.

  She swiveled the barrel toward the sound. “Was that…?”

  “A chicken,” I said. “I’ve got a few. Some cows and pigs, too.”

  “And coffee.”

  “And coffee.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Let’s have coffee.”

  “You can lower that shotgun whenever you’re ready.”

  “Oh,” she said, like she’d forgotten she was still pointing it at the house. She lowered the barrel. “Sorry.”

  “No big deal.”

  “Your name again? Sorry. I forgot it.”

  “Bobby. Yours?”

  “Morgan.”

  We lingered another moment. I grabbed my rifle then slung it over my shoulder and started up the porch steps, toward the front door. Morgan looked back at the diamond-shaped portal sizzling behind her then turned back to me.

  It hadn’t occurred to me until just now that I never asked Morgan if there were other people back where she’d come from.

  “Is there anyone else?” I asked quietly.

  She shook her head. “No, just me.” She cleared her throat. “I haven’t seen another living person in a really long time. You?”

  I sighed. “Same.”

  She looked back at the portal again, then back to me. “You can open portals?” she asked, again. “Like, magic portals? Seriously?”

  “I can now,” I said. “I killed a monster. It dropped a book.” Just then, I realized that she might have been considering going back where she came from. Or, at least, she wanted to keep the option open. “I won’t close the portal,” I added. “And it won’t close on its own.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7