Goner House: The Return of Patience

Chapter 30 Call It an Experiment

  They had gone back a short distance, already seeing the green of their raft far off in the shallow water where they had left it, when they were brought up short by a sound. Odd sounds were common down here, usually of the haunting sort, but this was just an ordinary sound, something like a cough or a snore—and very close. Looking around, they found that they had been too intent on watching for the raft and had passed, or nearly passed, a body lying close against the wall on the right. Asleep on the floor was a man, dressed in a tan suit with pastel green shirt and tie.

  Coming closer, they recognized Bits Bitterly, looking surprisingly obese. He was not presently a scaly, but even in his human form the Moore bullet Reason had pumped into him showed its effect. Never had he been so fat, and between his normal and his scarred over eye was a crisscross of bandage covering the hole where she had shot him.

  Dignity removed Bits’ pistol from his shoulder holster, looked at it distastefully, and stuffed it in a large pocket in his heat suit. Then they shook him awake. When he opened his eyes, he looked first at their faces and then at the automatic weapon that Reason thoughtlessly carried slung under one arm.

  “Ooh, no!” he said, raising a hand as if to dismiss the sight of the Accelerator. “Here to shoot poor Bits? Not so barbaric, please, children. I’m just a messenger, a mere bearer of tidings. Haven’t you heard the overused line, ‘Don’t shoot the messenger’?”

  “Bits, what are you doing here?” Reason said.

  He sat up and looked around.

  “Ask that slave-driver Fear. He ordered me to come down here and take command of a team of scalies. I told him I’m sick and wounded, but he threatened me. As to how I’m dressed, since nothing in my wardrobe will fit me now, thanks to you, darling, I had to get something in a hurry. I bought this suit off the rack at the Mammon Mart. Off the rack! Then I came down here and took command of the wretched monsters they expect me to work with. So here I was, tottering about, and I got near the water down the way there and suddenly I felt a new attack of my old illness coming on and had to lie down on this filthy floor. I’ve found that a short nap will sometimes pull me through one of these attacks.”

  “I think that means he was about to cycle back to being a scaly,” Reason commented to Dignity. “It was probably because he saw the fish and thought of eating them.”

  Bits staggered to his feet and patted the front of his jacket, noting the missing pistol. “I was looking for you two actually.”

  “Right, you’re a messenger. So what’s the message, Bits?” said Dignity.

  “Sad, sad news, my friends. You’re plan was communicated to us before you even started on your little mission. So about twenty of us were sent to meet you, and the only reason we’ve failed to do so is that you seem to have blundered out of your path. That’s infuriating. I would expect that even you, darling, would be able to hold to a straight line between two points. Did you get lost? Be that as it may, when we tired of waiting for you under Wag House, a few of us spread out to look around and it’s been my luck to find you.”

  “Bad luck for us,” said Dignity.

  “No, very good luck, oaf, because what I have to tell you will save you from the worst. You may think that you can still win through to Goner House, but we are so much more careful than that. Maybe you’ve already discovered that we blockaded every route except the one under Wag House. Even beyond that, we’ve pumped the passages close around Goner House full of a scorching heat so fierce that those cheesy and hideous protective suits would not have been enough to save you even if you had got that far. The Goners will rest safe tonight; Momma Central watches over them.”

  “So what are you saying, that you think we’re going to turn back?” said Reason, who, though she had completely given up just a short time ago, did not want to admit it now.

  “Haven’t you already in your hearts?” he said with a smile. “Aren’t you ready for home? A hot cup of tea and a blanket about the shoulders? Friends congratulating you on returning from hell alive? I’d hate to see your soft skin all blistered, Reason.”

  “You’re such a liar, Bits, that there may or may not be any scorching heat ahead of us.”

  “The heat is real, dear one. Gangs of workers did it by diverting the fumes of underground fires. Oh, I feel awful! I think I need to sit down again.” When he had done so, he smiled up at them wanly. “Aren’t either of you curious about who it was that betrayed you? Who it was that told us all your plans? You’ll never guess, so I’ll just tell you. I was approached by—oh, who could it be? Who among the Heavenites would be so frigidly faithless, so foul and traitorous as to sell you out? Well, it’s your most trusted friend, the dear old Ambassador himself! Yes, Grace. He said your King wanted us to know. That’s why you’ll never reach Goner House: because Grace and your King have sold you out.” He looked from one of them to the other. “You just stand there stupidly. Doesn’t that stir any anger in you? Or are you just lumps? No feeling at all?”

  “I don’t know why I should bother to explain this to you,” Dignity replied, “but our King has it all figured out. If he tipped his hand to you, it’s because he sees everything, how it will all play out. OK, it’s hard to explain. Reason could probably put this better.” Reason seemed distracted, so he continued, “We just have to stop analyzing and trust. You’d be amazed what our Lord can do with things like fires and, uh, lawn mowers.”

  “You’re patsies,” Bits said triumphantly. “Brainwashed.”

  Reason came out of her muse and turned to Dignity. “Something doesn’t add up here. Why isn’t he wet? Not even his shoes are wet. I mean, if Bits didn’t get here the way we did, by way of the Breakfaith, and if all the other ways here are blocked, then where did he come from?”

  Dignity nodded. “Good thinking. I mean, not bad for a brainwashed patsy. Bits?”

  The CRISP agent was silent for a moment. “I’ve been here long enough for my clothes to dry,” he said.

  Reason fumbled with her gun, her arm caught in its strap, until she got the barrel pointed more or less at Bits. “Actually, Bits, I didn’t understand Chief Doohickey’s explanation of what this thing does. Gosh, maybe it won’t kill you.”

  Faced with an even bigger gun than the one she had used on him before, Bits hastily found his feet and led them to a hidden doorway just a few yards away and disguised as part of the passage wall. A mere push at the right place opened it, and they were on their way down a short tunnel no more than three feet wide. They made Bits go first.

  At the end was a door meant to be opened in their direction and with a large handle bolted on. Reason commented that from the other side this was probably another disguised entrance, and suggested that, were they to just open it and go through, they would probably find themselves among the squad of scalies Bits was commanding.

  “And armed to the teeth,” Dignity added. “I don’t want to try to use Bits as a shield or a hostage either, because my guess is they’d gladly shoot him to get us.”

  “Yes, they’re honorless scum,” Bits said, “and I hate to be near them. A tribe of illiterate, inhuman fiends good for nothing but tracking and killing.”

  “Sounds like you,” Dignity said.

  “Oh no, Bits is not illiterate,” said Reason, putting in a good word for him.

  “So what do we do?”

  “You’re asking me? Well, it’s either give up and go back or try to use some of these weapons Chief Doohickey gave us. Going back sounds really good, and I don’t care if Bits hears me say it.”

  “Going back is common sense,” Bits said in a level tone.

  The other scouts had come back, but Bits Bitterly was still away down the secret passage and had been for so long that Rancor felt almost ready to go looking for him. On the other hand he was resting comfortably with all four feet stuck to the roof of this lower basement room below Malice House, half asleep among his
fellows, who were doing the same. For that matter, if the arrogant half-human CRISP agent had gotten himself into trouble, such as a fall into a pit or into deep water, why should he be rescued? Scalies for the scalies was Rancor’s motto; that is, except for when he was all for himself.

  As for the Heavenite agents the squad was supposed to intercept, ah, they would have been delicious, but the soft skins had probably turned back long ago, scared nearly witless. With no commander around to trouble him, Rancor was ready for another nap. No, here was Bitterly returning, for by the light of the propane lantern that was the room’s only illumination, he saw that the secret door was opening. No again, something odd was happening, for nothing came through the narrowly opened door but two small objects rolling across the concrete floor.

  One of the objects had come to a stop directly under him, so he raised his eyes, or rather lowered them, to stare down at it through the gloom. It looked like a Heavenite hand grenade. His first instinct was to rip Maligna from the roof beside him and throw her over it, sacrificing her nobly to save the rest of them. He had just time to consider that such a maneuver would not cover the other grenade, when both exploded together.

  Several seconds later, Rancor found himself on the floor, struggling for breath, for the fall had knocked the wind out of him. The grenades had briefly filled the room with an excruciating, ethereal light so fierce that he and the nineteen other scalies, also on the floor, began to writhe and to labor for enough breath to scream. Looking down at his long green torso, he saw a remnant of the light shimmering in his very belly. Doorless openings were available around the room, and he was not the last to rush through one of them. But as he ran he continued to croak and quake, for he carried the cruel, white light within him now. He must vomit it out! But to do that, he would have to pause, and he could not pause for a moment. He would run until he collapsed.

  Dignity and Reason pushed Bits into the room first. As they followed him, Reason felt wonderful, her step light, her little chin held high. Dignity was beaming.

  “Judging by the amount of thumping and scrambling we just heard,” she said, “the scalies were in here all right. So why don’t we see any body parts or even blood?”

  “The Lumina grenades must not work like that,” Dignity replied. “Say do you think we could detonate another one just for the high? I mean, I felt it right through that thick door, and it’s not wearing off. Oh yeah, not a worry in the world!”

  “Me too, I’m not myself. I feel elated and uninhibited, and I never feel like that. But we’d better not waste any of the other grenades. OK, well maybe just one, huh? Just before we knock down Guiles’ front door, pow! Chief Doohickey didn’t make us sign for anything. She’ll understand. Hey, Bitsy! What’s your problem?”

  Groaning, the CRISP agent had sunk to the floor by the now darkened propane lamp. She stepped near him and kicked him in the ribs.

  “Don’t!” he cried. “I’m not well. Even from the other side of the door, those grenade blasts did something to me. It’s like torture.”

  Leaning down near him, she said, “Did the nasty little Luminas make you feel all sick, Bitsy? You want some kindness and understanding? Well, those lovely explosions make me feel just the opposite, like I could watch you die and enjoy it.” She straightened up and kicked him again. “Come on, we need to go to Guiles’ house.”

  He rose as far as hands and knees and halted, gasping and wheezing. “St-stomach ache,” he moaned. “I’m going to vomit.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she sing-songed. “Up!”

  He raised one hand from the floor just long enough to point to a doorway to the north, then quickly put it down again to steady himself.

  “That way. Go on without me. It’s too hot there. I don’t have a cooling suit. If I go with you, I’ll die.”

  “You don’t suppose he’s been telling the truth about a super-heated area around Goner House?” Dignity asked.

  Reason pulled out the map. “I don’t know, but if we’re where I think we are, under the Malices’ house, then he’s not lying about our direction. It’s straight that way.” She pointed.

  Dignity looked up and shouted at the ceiling, laughing, “Hey, Alice! You having a nice morning up there?” He walked to the doorway and stepped into the adjacent room. “You know, it really is hotter in this direction,” he reported.

  “Uh-oh. So let’s be ready to use our cooling units.”

  They put on head coverings, part of their heat suits, that fit over their helmets and allowed the helmet lights to shine through the clear plastic in front of their faces. The lights, they noticed were weakening, something that should have scared them had they been in a normal frame of mind. Moving to the doorway, they pulled on their protective gloves.

  “The only good thing about this,” Dignity said, “is that it might be so hot that scalies and other crawly things can’t live in it. Anyway, I hope that Chief Doohickey knew what she was doing with the cooling units. Didn’t Bits say they wouldn’t be good enough?”

  “Here’s how you turn it on,” she said, pointing out the dial to him, “but wait till it’s time. Yes, he did say that, but how would he know?” She held up a hand as if remembering something. “Oh, good grief, Bits!”

  She turned back to find that her old boyfriend had pulled himself to his feet in the room they had left and, looking like someone recently returned from a war zone, was facing them through the doorway.

  “Bits, I don’t want to leave you like this,” she said.

  “So this is Heavenite Intelligence in action,” he said. “Your traitorous leader sends you into this hell for some supposed rescue of your worst enemy; and in your simple minded trust, you go! Sorry I can’t say ‘So long’, but since you won’t give this up, it’s just goodby, old love. Don’t worry about leaving me behind. I’ll be safe enough.”

  “You misunderstand me,” she said, again bumbling to get her Accelerator off her shoulder and flicking off its safety. “When I say I can’t leave you, I mean leave you alive.”

  Dignity laid a hand on her arm. “Look I know we’re both a little high, and granted, I don’t want to have him lurking behind us, but—you’re just trying to scare him, right?”

  “Look, he eats children. Maybe it won’t kill him. The Moore pistol didn’t, darn it.”

  “No, really, Reason. It could be murder.”

  “So call it an experiment.”

  She pulled loose from his grip and aimed.

  “Reason!” both men cried together.

  A loud rattle of gunfire followed, but when it was over, Bits was still standing.

  “Missed again,” Dignity concluded with relief.

  “No, I didn’t,” she said. “Look at all the holes in his suit.”

  Dignity stepped closer and indeed found Bits’ suit front so full of holes that shreds of fabric stood out. In a few places the material was burning. Bits’ arm flew up, pointing at Reason, and he tried to speak, but only a hissing sound emerged from his mouth and with it a burst of flame. In another moment he was engulfed in flames that ate away his clothing and coursed through his organs, limbs, and brain. Though the fire did not diminish, he remained standing and was not consumed.

  Reason judged that he must be unable to move; otherwise he would be either rolling on the floor or running for the River Breakfaith. His scorched eyes still looked at her with agonized intelligence, his parted, blackened lips still emitted an extended hiss, and his heart—somehow made visible by means of the fire—pumped wildly. His lungs worked. He seemed locked into that moment when a body is in maximum torment from flame and yet has not quite crumpled into a charred mass.

  Even as Dignity was pulling her away and turning her from the sight, Reason had time for it to register that her gun must have accelerated Bits’ hell-bound tendencies to their natural conclusion. They had seen, and he was feeling, his future—where he had been headed anyway.
With belated compassion, she hoped that, like the Moore pistol, the Accelerator’s effect would wear off. Poor Bits! What a week he was having!