Wheels (10 page)

A man: The air seemed still, that’s the word for it. Not thirty feet in front of the van was a man who I will call Subject-A, frozen in mid-stride with a set of keys dangling in front of him. Subject-A seemed unaware of my presence and my first instinct was to give him a tap on the shoulder. Thank God, I did not.

A dog: As luck would have it, my eyes strayed to a dog. Approximately 150 feet southwest of me, the beast was hoisting its leg on the corner of an abandoned silo. I must have unconsciously realized something was wrong, for as I watched and waited, the beast continued to pee as if unable to complete its task.

And that’s when I came to the unlikely realization that Subject-A was frozen, the beast was frozen, and upon further visual inspection, up, left, and right, as far as my eyes could see, the entire world beyond the van was frozen.

An anomaly in the space-time continuum and I, Wink Krumm, the first to discover it.

***

NASTY TASKS & UNWELCOME NEWS

Monday, March 16th
Circanthos - The Tsendi Outpost

“
A
bacis! Abacis, did you see that? Tsootbas spit, there. Quickly, my dear Tsendi, before the evidence disappears into that hideous, mustard colored moss of yours. Your precious
Advitor
almost had his FOOT BURNT OFF!”

Abacis flinched. The Wellsman did that to him. The human’s tirades always began soft and sweet, like the coo-coo of a
bertlecock
, drawing Abacis in, lulling him into complacency. Then BANG, a burst of anger like venom from a
cobrais
’
mouth burst forth, hitting Abacis smack in the face, leaving him dazed and wondering how he had not seen it coming.

“I dare say, haven’t I requested, and nicely too, that you have the prisoners move the border of the forest back a few feet? I need more space. I know it’s a nasty task, that’s why we have the prisoners do the work.”

“Yes, my Advitor.”

Abacis stood before Wells, head down, humbled. He stood there patiently waiting for whatever request Wells would make of him. Whatever the request was, they both knew, Abacis would obey. Abacis was Wells’ right-hand man…even if he were only a lowly Tsendi.

His jaw tightened, intensifying the throb in the middle of his forehead—one that had taken up permanent residence of late. The Advitor’s most recent ‘improvement’ seemed…questionable.

“Discipline and hard work, Abacis, that is how I was raised.”

Tsendi young ones worked in the prison during Cera san, cleaning up after the prisoners and helping to build, then maintain, the new addition. Even the very youngest remained there, watched over by a few unlucky Tsendi mothers.

A drop of blood, pale yellow and sweet smelling, plopped onto Abacis’ toe. He’d been digging his fingernails into his palms again.

Wells leaned over and patted Abacis’ head. His tall, thin form towered at least a foot over most Tsendi. “Abacis…” he said quietly, consolingly, and with a superior sense of understanding.

“Yes, my Advitor.” Abacis struggled to control his temper. He knew it wasn’t right; Wells was their savior. Still…

Wells stepped back and waited.

Abacis looked up.

“You were a prisoner once, too,” said Wells, using the same tone a father would use with a wayward child. “Remember how you hated it? Remember the pain? Now, look at you, Personal Guard to the Advitor. Sacrifice and hard work is good for the soul, even a lowly Tsendi’s.”

Abacis nodded. Wells had clearly sensed something.

The Advitor smiled, turned and walked off towards the storage compound to remind the guards that today’s
cobaca froot
distribution would be delayed. He disappeared from view behind the enormous structure the Tsendi had built for him over a hundred loonocks ago. A building, which had been added on to many times since; the Advitor’s living quarters. Beyond that was an even larger structure, a long rectangular building that stored all the cobaca froot harvested during the last loon—all the remaining cobaca froot until the next harvest, two hundred fifty rotations from now.

Abacis could be glad of at least one thing…Wells had not given him the job of informing the other Tsendi that tonight’s cobaca froot distribution would be late. He would not miss the screaming, the crying, or worst of all, the pleading.

Gazing out over the boundary of Wells’ compound into the Cocombaca forest, Abacis tried to compose himself. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, over his nose and splashed onto his protruding, dimpled chin. Several more beads of sweat formed, and Abacis began to shake. The feeling emerged from the depths of his memories and moved outward, washing over his body, drenching his soul; physically, forcefully reminding him that his past was not—after all—so very far away. The craving, every minute of every day, for his beloved cobaca froot remained…overwhelming him at the most unexpected moments.

But, not as often as it used to.

Six loonocks ago, Abacis had been sent to prison. Separated from the other prisoners and deprived of cobaca froot; how long or even why he was in prison, hidden beneath deeper memories. Like most of his former life, forgotten.

But, not everything remained buried.

Memories and physical symptoms surfaced now and again to tempt Abacis.

When the Advitor finally released Abacis from solitary confinement and reinstated his rations, Abacis made a most unusual decision for a Tsendi; he took the cobaca froot, but did not eat it.

Why? No, not why—how! The pain had been almost unbearable. Desire seeped from his pores, wrapping itself around his emotions, smothering him—it had been so painful he thought he would die.

Yet, somehow he’d survived.

Abacis decided that never again would that type of desire bind him. Instead, he used his hidden stash to bribe the guards. Having been released early for good behavior, he rose quickly through the ranks of guards to the position of Personal Guard to the Advitor. In the loonocks since, Abacis had never divulged his secret: he no longer ate cobaca froot.

Abacis began the long walk back towards the prison. He wished he had better news for the prisoners than another round of backbreaking labor. At least the Advitor had not demanded the young one’s help.

“Hoo-mans, Hoo-mans!” The shouts were coming from the forest’s edge. With the exception of those on scout or guard duty, most Tsendi were asleep.

“Hoo-mans, Hoo-mans!”

Abacis turned, as the chanting became louder. Tsendi guards positioned next to the entrance of the Advitor’s living quarters awoke and ran to see who was causing the commotion. The noise woke other Tsendi, and the clatter grew so loud even the Advitor returned to investigate.

Suddenly, out of the forest burst Mallos, followed by two other Tsendi, all three of them forest spies. The greediest of the Tsendi, forest spies were willing to stay awake even during the hours of
Locent san
, all for the promised reward of double cobaca froot rations for the rest of their lives.

Abacis, in particular, did not trust Mallos.

“Hoo-mans, Hoo-mans!” The rest of the Tsendi remained outside the compound, joining in the chant, but afraid to cross into the Advitor’s domain without his permission.

“What is it?” The Wellsman could hardly be heard over the deafening roar. “Abacis,” he screamed, “command them to calm down, I can’t understand a word.”

“Humans,” Abacis shouted. “They are shouting something about humans, sir.”

Wells’ face, puffed up and red, collapsed inwardly. He shuffled backwards, awkwardly slapping the air as if something solid and horrible were coming towards him. After knocking into two guards, he collapsed onto a tree stump and curled forwards, cradling his face in his hands and moaning, “Humans, they’ve come!”

The Tsendi stopped chanting. Like Abacis, they were shocked and frightened to see their leader in such a weakened state.

Eventually the Advitor stopped rocking, took one great sobbing breath, and rose.

Abacis had never seen this side of the Wellsman. “My Advitor, do you need assistance?”

H.G. Wells remained pale. He announced that he would speak to Mallos and the other two spies alone in his private quarters. “Clear the forest’s edge!” he shouted, then turned and marched off. The forest spies followed, panting and jumping like a pack of
wild flogs
drooling with anticipation. A sack of some sort hung from Mallos’ back. Whatever it was, it wasn’t Tsendi.

Long after the crowds dispersed, Abacis remained. More humans, he thought.
How many?
And why did the news affect the Advitor so? Was there to be more than one Advitor? This thought made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

As Cera san began to turn, Abacis began the long journey to the prison. It was not for him to question the ways of the Advitor. And yet…

Chapter 13

FBI TRANSCRIPT 21204

Agent Wink Krumm and H.G. Wells
Monday, April 27th

KRUMM
: You said the Tsendi were the more “human” of the two species. Why?

WELLS
: Legs and,
well
…what the Circanthians did was clearly
not
human.

KRUMM
: You’re referring to the particle-weaving.

WELLS
: I am referring to arac-telae, the spider’s web, which is, more accurately, how the Tsendi describe it. Particle-weaving-PAH! The only thing Circanthians wove was trickeries and deceits.

KRUMM
: So it isn’t real?

WELLS
: Of course, it isn’t real! Although, it did appear ungodly so, at times. Nevertheless, it’s magic pure and simple. And that’s not civilized.

KRUMM
: You ruled the Tsendi.

WELLS
: Guided. Yes, I guided them. Always kept a right-hand Tsendi, though, just to be fair. That was my downfall.

KRUMM
: Downfall?

WELLS
: Abacis. I should never have trusted him.

KRUMM
: Abacis was your right-hand Tsendi?

WELLS
: A traitor is what he was. A traitor to his Advitor!

KRUMM
: Advitor?

WELLS
: The title the Tsendi bestowed upon me. I was their Advitor, their King—their Savior. Then
she
came along.

***

PROMISED REWARDS

Monday, March 16th
Circanthos – The Tsendi Outpost

“
T
ell me everything. How many, what their machine looks like—EVERYTHING! Omit even one minor detail and—” The Advitor spun around so fast, Mallos barely had time to duck his head, “I will have you dunked head first in the Lapis Sea. You’ll never taste your beloved cobaca froot again.”

Mallos, kneeling prostrate on the floor, his two cohorts behind him, began shaking and nodding so rapidly that beads of sweat flew from his brow, spotting the floor in front of him. Images of ripe, juicy cobaca froot disappeared faster than
goots
on a
torp
. He thought the Advitor would be pleased with the gift, but the Wellsman had simply tossed the strange satchel onto his bed.

The other two Tsendi pushed Mallos forward.

Of the three, Mallos was the only one who could speak the Advitor’s language with any proficiency. Most Tsendi had little use for verbal communication, but Mallos was as intelligent as he was devious. Only now did he realize he should have hidden it better.

Mallos bowed his head, pretending to be humble—a pitiful trait, if there ever was one—and tried to collect his thoughts. “Most kind Advitor,” he began, “This most unworthy Tsendi begs your patience.”

“Oh, shut up and stop beating around the bush.”

Mallos had no idea what “beating around the bush” meant, but it was probably not good. Best not to take all the credit should the Advitor be displeased. “Oh, great Advitor, forgive my ignorance, for I—
We,
are only lowly Tsendi. It was I, though, who first spotted the unusual activity on the forest floor not far from the Circanthian-most edge of the forest.”

“How many?”

“Three, oh great—”

“Three. Only three?” The Advitor sounded relieved.

Mallos was pleased the Advitor was responding more favorably now. “Two of them human.”

“Two? Well, why didn’t you say so? What type of being was the third?”

Mallos bit his lip and stared at the floor. “Oh, great Advitor,” he mumbled, “I believe the third was—”

“Speak up Mallos, I can’t hear you.”

“Circanthian.”

“Circanthian! Which one?”

“I believe, Oh, Greatest of—”

“You’re testing my patience, Mallos.”

“Pietas.”

“Pietas? How interesting. Let me see, I believe it was YOU, Mallos, who delivered the news that Pietas was dead. At least, I think it was you. All you Tsendi look alike to me. This must be some new Circanthian trick of which I’ve not been informed—rising from the dead!”

“Pietas has not been seen anywhere on Circanthos in over four loonocks. It was a logical conclusion,” Mallos stammered. “She is well over three hundred loonocks old.”

“Never mind. One ancient, Circanthian female won’t be that much trouble. No doubt, Pietas will be pleased her compatriot, Soliis, has returned to the Gathering. Let us hope he does not give himself away or we shall have to make an example of him. The Advitor smiled, his cold gaze lingering on Mallos, piercing like the spike of a wild
broshbonit
. And perhaps you, Mallos, perhaps you.”

“I will talk to the old cir myself, Oh, Great One, and remind him where he gets his supply of cobaca froot.”

“Continue.”

Mallos hesitated. “We did not see where the humans arrived. There was no star machine such as yours, Oh, Great One. It is my belief, they have hidden it somewhere in the forest.”