AEGIS Tales 2, page 11
part #8 of Airship Daedalus Series
Henry inspected the bracelet. It really did resemble a watch, aside from its inability to keep time. The soft glow in its face had returned to an orange hue. Staring into the inviting warm light, he hesitated a moment... Did the flicker represent danger? Obviously, this thing wasn’t made for humans. What could it do to him? His head throbbed, his back ached, his stomach churned. Did it matter? He slipped it back over his left wrist and the tide of relief flowed quickly across every tiny bit of his being. The dial shifted back to a slowly pulsing green.
He bent easily down, grabbed the case—consciously ignoring the flicker—and loped back through the forest to where his morning had begun. His stomach continued to churn and protest. He really needed to eat something soon.
In less than an hour, Henry tumbled out of the forest to the very spot he’d previously tumbled from the train car. He had barely broken a sweat and still felt great. Amazing, in fact. He scrambled up the embankment and looked down the tracks. He’d been headed west last night. He spun to the east. How far had they traveled from the previous depot? Was it further than the next? He had no idea. He spun back and thought a moment. His stomach cried for action. “West, it is.” He hitched up his pants and began walking.
A few miles on, the forest receded from the tracks, replaced by a widening meadow of towering green grasses, waving gently in the warm breeze. In the distance, the shimmer of water glittered in the afternoon sun. As the rail line continued west, the river and tracks neared one another. Eventually, the two ran together, separated by a stone’s throw over marshy clumps of cattails. Henry eyed the twinkling water, hunger driving him forward, but the cool refreshing rush of the river begging him stop. His stomach could wait. It disagreed. Henry skipped down the embankment, through the reeds and to the water’s edge. He was clearly in charge.
He found a dry spot and placed the case on the ground. He quickly stripped bare, piling his dirty clothing atop the box, and waded out into the rushing stream. He shivered against the frigid water, but it felt great to get all the grime off. Without thought, he flopped backwards, completely submerging. A sudden panic swept him and he leaped to his feet, staring in deep concern at the bracelet. The slow, undulating green glow continued, unabated. He felt no aches or pains. His arm still flickered. In fact, he noticed, his whole body flickered as he moved. Obviously, the water didn’t damage it. Still, he thought, better safe than sorry.
Henry returned to shore, and promptly laid against a fallen log to dry in the warm sun. It felt nice. Warm. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment.
When he felt dry enough to climb back into his clothing, Henry stretched, rose to his feet, turned and there, no more than a few feet from him, stood a small buck. Its head was raised, sniffing the air. Cautious. Henry could smell the animal, the breeze blowing gently his way. He held still, unsure why the buck didn’t react to him. If he tried, he could literally reach out and touch its face. Was it blind? He lifted his hand slowly towards the large head, extending the flickering tip of his finger. The animal was looking right at him, yet, couldn’t see him. It knew something was near, continued sniffing the air, but the currents moved the wrong direction.
Henry’s extended finger touched the buck’s face just below its gleaming black eye. In a flash, the beast thrashed its head the opposite direction, kicked violently into the ground and leaped through the thicket of swamp grass, disappearing in a rustle of reedy green and cattail fluff.
Henry stood frozen for several moments after the deer had vanished. He realized he’d been holding his breath and let it out in a huge whoosh and a rolling laugh. “That was...” he shook his head in astonishment, “that was....odd.” He pulled up his undershorts and shook out his pants. With the sun so low on the horizon behind him, the loose legs of his pants cast long flopping shadows in front of him. He stopped a moment, let them dangle. Everything cast long shadows. Everything except him. Where the hell was HIS shadow? He shook the pants vigorously, their dark twin mimicking the action stretched out ahead of him. He turned to face the sun and followed the dark streaks cast by the wavering grasses and trees. Glancing down at his feet, no darkness extended from them.
Henry lifted his wrist and stared at the bracelet. He flickered. It was now emitting a soft blue glow in place of the green. He wondered at the significance. He reluctantly grabbed the thing and slid it off his arm. Predictably, the aches, pains and sick returned. He wretched a tiny spatter of bile in front of his feet, a dark patch within the darkness of a shadow. His shadow. Well, he thought, that answers that. A slow grin came to his face.
The fire danced against the dark, licking up around the blistering carcass of a small rabbit, hung low over the flames on a makeshift spit. Two ragged tramps huddled near, enjoying the warmth and the promise of a tasty meal. Henry peered in at the scene, stomach rumbling, and luxuriated in the aroma. Time to test the hypothesis AND fill his belly. He quietly set down his box and slipped off his clothes. He gazed down at his naked form and glanced backward into the tangled scrub. Shadows leaped and shrank in response to the fire. He pushed at a branch between himself and the small camp and watched the shadow shift behind him. He swayed first one way, than another. Sure enough, no shadow.
Henry slid between a small break in the scrub and crept closer. The two tramps, locked in low, mumbling conversation, remained unmoved. He couldn’t believe it. He continued a slow careful arc around the sputtering fire, stopping opposite the two men and waved his arms. He had to suppress a giggle. Just because they couldn’t see him, didn’t mean they wouldn’t hear him.
Dropping to his haunches, Henry reached out and gently tugged one of the dangling legs of the cooked rabbit. With a small twist, it peeled away from the body. The tramps noticed nothing. Keeping low, with the fire between he and the two men, he devoured the leg. Still, Henry remained undetected. He reached out again and, bracing the spit, twisted the second hind leg from the rabbit. A few gulps later, he dropped the remains to the ground and crept back out of the little camp.
With a happy belly, Henry quietly slipped into his clothing. The two tramps, having discovered the missing limbs, bickered and blamed and dug around the pit. Time to leave. He grabbed the case of mystery blocks and set off.
✽✽✽
Henry woke to the rumble of a passing truck. He stretched and opened his eyes to greet dust motes dancing in sunlight streaming through gaps in the building’s siding.It was the longest he’d slept in ages. He glanced at the maroon glow winking back at him from the bracelet. He marveled—still no aches or pains. Yet, he WAS beginning to feel... What... off? He brought his arm closer, with each slight movement, the familiar crackle in and out of view. A subtle vibration, beginning at the spot in which the bracelet clung, had set in sometime last evening and was now moving through his entire body in small buzzing waves. He had begun to wonder if it wasn’t related to the shifting hue. Could it be dangerous? He shook off the thought. Memories of each time he’d removed it flooded back. Not only had his various ailments returned, they returned with increasing ferocity, leaving him heaving in agony a little more each time. No, he thought, taking it off would happen only when absolutely necessary. Still...the change in color must mean something.
✽✽✽
After a few hours of poking about the small town, fully naked and completely unseen, Henry’s feet were ragged and torn. Settling down on and upturned crate down a small alley, he inspected the damage. Blood oozed from little cuts and scrapes. No pain. Just the steady ebb and flow of warm buzzing. He’d need to be more careful.
Suddenly, the crate beneath his bottom seemed to collapse and he flopped backward in a wide-eyed huff. Henry scrambled to his feet and, to his astonishment, the crate sat completely intact. He blinked hard several times, confused. He reached his flickering finger out to touch the offender only to have it pass directly through.
“What the hell?” Henry’s gaze darted back and forth, realizing he’d spoken aloud. He was alone. He leaned over the crate once more. This time, his finger felt the grain. He gently shoved and the empty container moved. He sighed in relief, pressed down his rising concern.
✽✽✽
With his belly full to bursting of hand pie from one shop, an apple from a sidewalk market and a bottle of milk fresh off the back of a delivery truck, Henry returned to his makeshift hideout and dressed. In his tour, aside from the easy pilfering of a satisfying meal, he’d located a pawn broker and determined to see what he could get for the box of blocks. Any price was better than lugging the seemingly useless stuff around. Problem was, he’d need to be seen to do it. He steeled himself and slipped the bracelet from his wrist. Out went the pie, the apple and the milk in a hot, putrid stream. His head throbbed, muscles ached, stomach churned. Hands on his knees, Henry pulled in long deep breaths, waiting for the worst to pass. It didn’t. He felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead as he straightened up. Just get it done, he thought, get it done quickly.
Slipping the bracelet into his pocket, Henry grabbed the case with a groan and made his way to the pawn broker. Every step shot pulses of agony from his feet to the top of his head. He continued breathing deep, concentrating on keeping down what little remained of his meal. He kept the box clamped beneath his right arm and his left hand stuffed deep into his pocket, caressing the smooth dial and warm rubbery band. He wanted, so badly, to slip it back on.
Henry arrived at the pawn broker’s shop and dropped the box on the counter. Everything itched. Everything ached. He tapped the dull surface of the container with a rapid, impatient urgency. The shopkeeper glanced down at the featureless gray box then gave Henry a slow once-over, appraising the man’s tattered appearance. Times were tough and countless people looking just like him passed through the shop every day. Every day another priceless possession hocked for pennies on the dollar. More often than not, the items had been nicked. Desperate times and all. “Yours?” As long as he asked, he could beg ignorance if the coppers came looking.
Henry nodded, kept tapping. “Yeah... Sure.” A chill ran through his spine, up his neck and he visibly shivered. “What’ll ya gimme for it?”
The man spun the box around, looking for a latch, found none. He peered closely along the seam in the lid, looking for a catch. “What is it?” He pressed several spots and tried to pry the top, but couldn’t open it. “What’s inside?”
Henry grabbed up the case and shook it vigorously. The blocks inside rattled against one another. “They’re like....really fancy...blocks.”
“Blocks?” The man leaned back, fists to his hips, and frowned. “Like kiddie toy blocks?”
Henry shook the box again and set it back on the counter hard enough to rattle the rings and watches and pendants on the glass shelves below. “Yeah,” he huffed, “Like, rich kid fancy.”
The man slowly shook his head. “Look around friend,” he indicated the displays filled with jewelry and tools and dishes, “We don’t do toys. Nobody buys toys.” He glanced to the box, “Least of all blocks, fancy as they may be. Assuming that’s what’s even in there.” He spun the box around again, prying at the lid in various places to no avail. “Hell fire, boy,” he thrust out his bottom lip, “Can’t even open her up. For all I know, you got nothin’ but rocks in there.” He stood back from the counter and crossed his arms. “Little box is probably worth more’n the fancy blocks you say are in it,” he laughed mockingly, “and it won’t even open.” The older man motioned to the door, “Sorry fella, ain’t worth nothin’ here.”
Henry, desperate to get something, anything, burst out, “they’re Martian blocks,” his eyes went wild, hands flapping for emphasis, “Martian case and everything...Got ‘em out of a Martian spaceship crashed up in the woods!” He felt his stomach lurch, held it in.
The shopkeeper backed further away, held his palms up between them. Obviously, he thought, the guy’s either loopy, drunk, or both. “I think you should turn around and go.” He reached behind him and hefted the baseball bat he kept for just this kind of situation, pointing it toward the door. “Just leave and take that stolen shit with you.”
Henry lashed out, shoved the box across the glass. The man leaped aside as the small container flew off the counter and crashed to the floor beside him. Henry groaned, “keep the goddamned thing,” spun around and barreled through the door, leaving behind a mystified pawn broker staring down at a worthless, albeit interesting, box of toys.
It was all Henry could do to make the corner of the nearest alley. He shoved his hand in his pocket and squeezed it through the familiar loop. Instantly, warm relief washed across him and he leaned back against the rough brick wall and slid slowly to the ground. After a few long moments, calm returned. He thought of the little blocks. His suspicion had been confirmed. Worthless. Oh well, he’d tried. One less thing to tote around. The real treasure was there on his wrist. He glanced down. The soft magenta glow had changed. It now pulsed a fiery red. It looked angry. It looked like...warning?
“Hey, that’s mine!” A tremulous voice echoed through the alley. The sounds of a scuffle bounced through the narrow space. Henry rose to his feet and peered the distance to the other end. A small man cowered against the building to one side while a much larger man loomed over him. They were fighting over some unseen object and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who was winning. Henry sympathized with the smaller of the two. He’d been that guy many times over. Still, he thought, not my business.
“Piss off, ya little queenie!”, the growling retort of the big man nearly slapped Henry in the face. He saw himself tumbling out of that train car, the same voice echoing down at him as he slammed the ground. Anger boiled up and he found himself loping toward, not away, from the conflict. A wild roar loosed from his mouth as he quickly closed in. At the sound of Henry’s awful scream, the big man turned to face the oncoming threat. The bully’s eyes widened as the headless apparition rushed onward. “What the...”
Henry lowered his shoulder, closed his eyes and rammed full steam into the big man’s side. The two crashed onto the ground in a tangled heap. The bully’s original victim scrambled quickly to his feet, out of the alley and to the relative safety of the sidewalk. There, he stared in fascination as the disembodied shoes, pants and shirt leaped up and prepared for another charge.
The large man pushed himself up from the ground and swung around to face the apparition. “What, in the name of Christ, are you?” He balled his fists tight and focused where a head should be. Slowly, the thing flipped its feet forward, one at a time. As each came up in a violent flick, first one shoe, then the other sailed through the air. The bully ducked each as they flew by. “Jesus...” He couldn’t understand what he was seeing. A button at a time, the ragged plaid shirt opened to reveal the inside of the back and slid to a heap on the ground. The rope tied around the waist of the pair of still standing pants untied itself, pulled free of the loops and dropped to the side. The bully slowly backed away. Down came the pants, now just a clump of dirty fabric.
“What’s the matter, tough guy...Scared?” Henry taunted the big man who now visibly trembled.
“Get the hell away from me!” The big man swung his fists in wild, useless arcs. Henry moved quietly around him, easily avoiding the haphazard fury. “Whatever you are, I’m gonna beat you senseless,” he yelled at the pile of clothing.
Henry reared back and threw his palm right at the man and nearly flopped to the ground as his entire body passed quickly through. The man, having felt a brief rush of air, spun round and around, swinging at empty space. Henry stared at this hands in shock. The bracelet’s ornament glared back, a pulsating angry red. “Shit,” he swore, jumping back to his feet.
The big man turned to the sound and Henry darted behind him and tried again. This time, his palms made full contact, shoving the man stumbling out onto the sidewalk. A small crowd had begun to gather, gawking at the man having some sort of episode, keeping their distance. The bully turned chaotically one way then the other, confused and terrified. Henry slammed him again, pushing him off the curb and onto the street. The onlookers widened, afraid the big man’s fits would veer their direction. The man stopped, chest heaving, and stared into the alley. “What devil is this?” he cried out.
Henry lunged out once more, with all the force he could muster, releasing a banshee scream, and gave the big man a push of such ferocity, he flew backwards off his feet right into the path of a delivery truck rumbling by. The startled driver slammed his foot down on the brake too late. The impact rang out sharp and dull and wet all at once followed in a split-second by the dull thump of the bully hitting the pavement, stone dead.
For a brief instant, the world stopped. Then, pandemonium. The driver and small group of onlookers rushed around the still form of the big man and watched a dark pool of blood gather around his lifeless face, the look of terror affixed in death as it had been the moment he’d been struck.
Henry dashed back to the pile of discarded clothing and tried to gather it together. It took several tries, as the material kept falling through his clenched fingers. The bracelet blinked faster, brighter, redder, angrier. His eye caught the truck, still idling right at the point of impact. He managed to lift the pile and jogged to the driver’s side of the vehicle. Behind him, at the mouth of the alley, the original victim stared right at him, seeing nothing but a free-floating pile of clothing bouncing into the street. Henry tossed the garments in through the window and grabbed for the door handle. His fingers slipped through it once, twice, then finally, he managed to grip it enough to quietly pull the door open and slink behind the wheel.
Clunking it shut as softly as he could, he looked through the window at the gathering hoard. They were pointing fingers back at the alley, bickering among themselves about what they’d just witnessed. They didn’t notice him put the truck in reverse until he rammed down the accelerator. The small crowd leaped to their feet and ogled the empty vehicle as it raced away from them back up the street from where it came. The driver halfheartedly gave chase but quickly stopped, simply watching in shock as his truck raced itself away from the accident scene.
