The Enemy Reveals Himself

Heyo! Catching up after an illness. Didja miss me? (Does anyone even notice when I fail to update? I see we lost a follower, but I don't know why...)

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"This is crazy. We're crazy." Hyatt gnawed at a thumbnail already bitten to the bloody quick. "We're traveling back, but we don't even know we're not infected. We could be carrying it with us. And Earth, oh, God, we can't, we can't! We have to-"

There was a loud report and a soft, meaty thud. Captain Stiller tucked his sidearm back into its holster. His eyes flicked to Ortiz and Rawlins. "He was a carrier. Paranoia. Delusions. It was obvious. Necessary."

Ortiz and Rawlins didn't dare even to glance at one another, but their hands tightened together under the console.

Stalking the Celery

Sorry about the delays, folks. Working an entire extra week of overtime in three days is taking its toll on me this week. Gotta get prepped for GenCon, monetarily speaking...

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Myron held his breath for the final bit of stitching. The lapels were the hardest part.

Rich clumped into the kitchen and paused. "What are you doing?"

"Making celery suits," said Myron.

"And these?" Rich poked at the cardboard boxes that littered the floor.

"Celery houses."

"...why?"

Myron looked up, brows raised. "They've been displaced by the war."

"Right," Rich sighed. "I'm going to watch TV." Before Myron realized it, Rich had pushed past and opened the fridge.

"No!" cried Myron. "The radishes..."

He was too late. The pop-pop-pop of peashooter sounded, and Rich fell like a sack of potatoes.

A Walk in October Woods

Your burden is heavy. Are you not weary? You are safe here, warm and safe. You can rest, if you like.

Listen. Hear the cooing of wind in the winter-black branches? Feel the caress of the pelting rain? Raise your face to the smiling moon. Breathe. Taste the jolly rot of leafmold. It is lovely here.

Reach up. Feel that fleshy mask. How it muffles and sweats! Dig your fingers in. Peel it away.

Let your burden fall. Feel the kiss of air upon your true skin at last.

It is supposed to hurt, my darling.

Fly free with us now...

Inexorable Foe

Biru clicked the stopwatch, puffing and sweating. He was down three seconds from yesterday. Was that enough?

He made himself walk, cool down after the obstacle course. He couldn't afford an injury now. He was barely keeping even as it was, his performance slipping daily. Old age comes to everyone, even the Bound. There was no guidance in the Codex for this; it was a matter of honor for a Bound One to destroy himself when he became flawed.

What was flawed? Where was the line of imperfection?

Biru clenched his fist around the stopwatch. He would run again tomorrow.

It's Always Grinning

I guess there was a little bit more.

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Jay slipped inside and eased the door shut with a sigh. A rough night. Maybe he'd get a bike or a car or something to avoid that walk again.

The foyer was dark. He reached for the light switch and froze. Something blocked the way into his apartment. He knew without seeing that it would have a huge, round head with a lipless mouth and row after row after row of teeth, teeth, teeth. It turned to face him, already grinning widely.

You're already involved. Everyone is. It held out a flabby hand, tipped in claws. Dance with me now.

Once More

He woke in the middle of the blasted plain. Sand and shards of rock spread out in all directions, a horizon empty of even the slightest break in its monotony. He was clad in rags, scorched and dirty, and the sand was uncomfortably warm. There was a ringing in his ears.

"Hello?" he called. "Anyone out there?"

Some time passed.

"I suppose it's up to me, then," he said. He squatted on his hanches, picked up a rock, and carefully placed it beside another. "We'll try it again," he said, doodling idly in the sand. A pattern began to emerge.

Doggy

Hewlett settled into the ragged armchair. The flickering log in the fireplace concealed more than it illuminated. The house creaked and groaned around him.

Something moved in the dark. Hewlett almost screamed. Shuffling feet and a low panting reassured him. She'd mentioned pets, right? A dog.

A wet tongue lapped at his hand. He scratched absently. Something was... not right. The shape of the head under his fingers was... wrong. He looked down.

Emaciated under lank, greasy hair, the naked man rolled watery eyes up at Hewlett. The man's lips shone wetly as his mouth widened in an idiot grin.

Everything Flows

The fountain was a marvel, carefully constructed to pour a sheet of water so smooth it looked solid.

"It reminds me of my past," Selah told Tyrwin. "I thought the wall in front of me was unbreakable, but now I see how easily I passed through."

Tyrwin looked up and shrugged. "Coulda told you that," he said. "Did, even."

"Come," Selah said, laughing. "The ambassador is waiting, and we must give him our answer." Selah stood and brushed her skirts.

Tyrwin leapt to his feet. "Meet you there, Princess," he said, and dove into the cobblestones. They rippled behind him.

Vend-a-Friend

"...and I just don't know what to do without her," Riley finished.

S117 nodded, frowning thoughtfully. "You just need some time to restabilize. I'm sure you'll come through it."

Riley smiled. "Thanks. And thanks for listening; you've been a really good friend. I'm sad to see you go."

"Oh, there are lots like me. You know where to find a sympathetic ear if you need to talk again."

"Yeah," said Riley. He waved and left the booth.

S117 sat back on his seat and watched the last few seconds of Riley's half-hour tick away. He closed his eyes as the disintegrator flared.

On the Debate Floor

“The Senator from Arizona is out of line!” said Chairman Gordon.

“I demand the right to speak,” growled Senator Krantz.

“I invoke Rule 714-point-3,” said Gordon. He rose, his hand rising to the shimmering talisman at his neck.

“So be it.” Krantz narrowed his eyes and stepped from behind the podium. With a sharp gesture, he snapped the ruby off of his tiepin. It flared with crimson light, and the phoenix burst forth in a gout of flame.

Gordon clutched his viridian stone and the winged saurian form of his own guardian emerged, hissing. “Let us now debate!” he cried.

The Dregs of Beauty

He was ethereally beautiful, a creature of pearl and night. The high priestess was a mere shadow of her fiery glory, compared to him.

He knelt and plucked up a flower, holding it like a wineglass. He stared at it. The watchers held their breath. This was why they had summoned him, a being of true beauty for this ugly world.

He lifted the flower to his lips, as though swallowing a liquor. When he was finished, all that was left was a withered tangle of thorns. Eyes gleaming, he turned his gaze to the crowd, drinking in their loveliness...