“Thank you, Wizard,” Vanja said.
He did not answer. Still strewn over Veee’s sturdy shoulder, he was unconscious. He had given his all. When his body no longer worked, his magic had remained.
Now Wetzel truly understood why they had been so careful to preserve Wizard’s full strength. Every bit of it had been required.
At last they were completely safe from the brute poachers, and so were the approximately fifty other females Wetzel carried on his coat.
They made their way along the trail toward RedBrick Village. Progress was fair, but Wetzel was increasingly uncomfortable for another reason. He needed to poop. He couldn’t risk it here; he had to get to the well.
And MaleBug needs to breed. He can’t wait much longer.
They came to RedBrick. Vanja flew ahead to alert the men. She returned to report that they were ready to assist in transportation. They had rounded up a horse-drawn wagon they would use to transport Wetzel to PinkPebble and the well. Also tools to remove shackles.
After that it was easier and faster. Wetzel for the first time in his life got to ride a horse-drawn wagon instead of hauling it. They reached the well, and he hurried across to put his hind end over it. He pooped voluminously. The villagers applauded. He felt the mind trace of MaleBug as the capsule emerged and dropped down into the well.
He’s there! LadyBug thought. I must follow!
Farewell! Wetzel replied. There was so much more he wanted to say to her, but no time to say it.
He felt her mind as she flew from his head, down the well. The fifty other female scarabs followed in a cloud.
His job done, Wetzel changed to man form. He put his head over the well, hoping to receive a key thought.
And there it was. The immense bliss of seminal inflation, expanding extraordinarily, followed by sudden cessation in a literal explosion of joy.
LadyBug had won the choice. LadyBug had bred. LadyBug was no more.
Wetzel sank to the ground with mixed joy and grief. They had accomplished their mission. They had saved the precious scarab from extinction. Yet he wished he could have had LadyBug with him to stay.
Hands came to him, guiding him away. “I will cheer you to the extent I am able,” Veee said. “You performed splendidly. We all know that.”
“Give credit to Wizard. He saved us all in the end.”
“You know what I mean. You did your vital part.”
“It’s the right thing,” he agreed. “I am glad for LadyBug. She achieved her life’s ambition. But I love her and miss her so much.”
“You lost your virgin,” Veee agreed. “That is one thing I can’t help you with any more.”
She truly understood. He turned into her, put his head against her solid shoulder, and sobbed.
• • •
Soon they were back in their old room in the house on PinkPebble. It was much as before, with Wizard being tended by Veee, who was now free of the manacles. The men had seen to that detail.
“When we recover,” Tod said, “We shall have to consider our future as a team. Are we game for another such challenge?”
“Oh yes,” Vanja said. “I love this adventurous life.”
Tod smiled. “Maybe the next mission will be able to provide you with more men to seduce, so you won’t have to be so sexually starved.”
She smiled back. “That would be nice.”
“I’m game,” Veee said. “Though I don’t need more sex.”
They looked at Wetzel, who now had a bandage on his healing wrist. “I’m game also,” he said. “I have yet to find my virgin.”
There was a knock on the door. It was Pinkie. “I am here on business, after an excellent night with Red,” she said. “As you know, all three of my girls who nighted with the unicorn got pregnant. Paige too; that makes four. We are now in a much better situation with respect to male company, thanks to Vanja’s effort, but we still would like to keep Wetzel for our own. I am going to make him an offer he can’t refuse.”
Wetzel shook his head. “I have already committed to continuing with the team. I must keep searching for my virgin.”
“Precisely. We have found her for you.”
All of them looked at her. “We’re not sure you understand Wetzel’s situation,” Vanja said. “He longs for a virgin he can keep. To marry and sire children by, yet have her remaining virginal throughout. No ordinary woman can do or be that. It is a paradox, his personal curse.”
“Exactly. We searched and located that virgin in another village, and brought her here. Her village was glad to let her go; she is unmarriageable in the ordinary manner. Wetzel can have her, provided he agrees to settle down in PinkPebble and service any other of our girls who desire it. The roles are not incompatible.”
Something was up. “Maybe I should meet this girl,” Wetzel said warily.
“This way. You may night with her.”
“I doubt I will need to. After the first connection my interest will wane.”
“I doubt it.”
“Because of my curse. No necessary fault in her. But I would not want to lead her on with expectations of marriage when that is simply not feasible.”
She just smiled.
“What is her name?”
“Virginia, of course.”
“What are you not telling me?”
“She doesn’t remember. Not beyond a day, if that. That’s why no man would marry her.”
“She’s an amnesiac?”
“Not exactly. She merely lacks the ability to remember events after she sleeps. It is a fault in her memory processing. She can speak, she can read, she knows the conventions of society, she can do routine chores, she knows her name. She’s a nice girl. She merely can’t remember personal things.”
“This must be a horror for her!”
“No. She doesn’t remember. Each morning someone must acquaint her anew with her situation, in a kindly manner.” Pinkie faced him momentarily. “She is emotionally virginal every morning.”
Wetzel paused as that sank in. Virginity for him was not really of the body, or even of the mind, but of the emotion. That novelty of first experience. “Oh, my.”
“She needs someone to love her, to have the patience to brief her each day, to protect her from molestation or affront or teasing by others. She needs a man to appreciate her for what she is. We believe you can be that man.”
“But if it is all gone the next day, how can there be any continuity?”
“It is too bad she can’t have a telepathic scarab on her head, as I gather you did, to refresh her memory each morning. As it is, you will have to do that job. It should not be burdensome.”
“I am not at all sure of that.”
“Here we are. I will introduce you, then depart. In due course you may inform me of your decision.” She knocked on the door.
In a moment it opened to reveal an ordinary young woman of perhaps eighteen. She had brown hair, brown eyes, a pretty face, a slender torso, and an innocent, faintly nervous expression. The essence smote him like a hammer made of air.
She was indeed a virgin. It radiated from every aspect of her.
“Pinkie!” she said gladly.
“Virginia, I have brought a man to meet you. I think he will like you, and be your friend.”
“I need a friend,” Virginia said. She turned her gaze on Wetzel. “Hello.”
He was already falling in love with her. “Hello, Virginia. I am Wetzel.”
“Hello, Wetzel. Please come in.”
He stepped into the room. She closed the door behind him, then turned to give him her full attention. She knew her manners.
Pinkie remained outside, by no coincidence; he read it in her mind as she departed. She was letting him get to know Virginia in his own fashion.
He took her hand. “I understand you do not remember yesterday.”
“I do not,” she agreed. “Are you from my village? Do you know me? I am sorry I do not remember you.”
“I have not met you
before. This is our first meeting.”
“Then you do not know me any better than I know you. Will you really be my friend?” She was so plaintively hopeful. Existing without past memories was intensely lonely.
“More than that, perhaps.” He took a breath. “Virginia, may I kiss you?”
“My boyfriend?” There was a flare of excitement in her mind. She wanted a serious relationship, but did not know whether she could have it. Pinkie had evidently explained about her daily loss of memory.
“I hope to be your boyfriend, yes.”
“Then you may kiss me.” She knew the protocol, at least to that extent. She shouldn’t kiss a stranger, but could kiss a boyfriend.
He took her in his arms and gently kissed her. Her body yielded gracefully and her lips firmed. She knew how to kiss, even if she could not remember doing it before. It was delightful in its innocent novelty.
She also knows that a kiss could be a prelude to making love. She did not know the details of that, but was willing to discover them.
There would be more, much more, but he already knew. “Virginia, will you marry me?”
She was taken aback. “Are you sure we just met?”
He had to explain. “Virginia, I am a mind reader. I know what you are thinking. I know you are the kind of woman I want to marry. I will stay with you and support you in all the ways you need. It will be easier if we are married.”
“So you can have sex with me!” she exclaimed. She knew that much about marriage.
“That, too,” he agreed.
That sufficed. “Yes, if it is all right with Pinkie. She told me not to make any commitments that go beyond a day without her approval.”
“Pinkie wants what’s best for you. I will go and ask her, and bring her back so she can tell you.”
“Thank you.”
“We will be back in perhaps half an hour.”
“That’s good.”
He kissed her again, and she was more than willing. She was a virgin, but lacked the ordinary virgin’s aversion to sex with him, probably because she had no memory to protect. Then he left her in her room and went searching for Pinkie, tracking her by her faint mind trace.
Pinkie was in her own room, awaiting his verdict. She was garbed for the evening, in a nightgown. He knocked, then entered. He took her in his arms, kissed her, then bore her back to her bed as her gown fell open. In moments they were amidst wild lovemaking, as she brought her expertise into play to facilitate his passion. She loved this; it was in her mind.
In due course they got up, cleaned up, and she closed her nightgown. She accompanied him to Virginia’s room. No word had been spoken.
They knocked, Virginia opened, and they stepped inside. “Yes, you may marry Wetzel,” Pinkie said. “He will love you and take good care of you.”
“Oh, good!” Virginia hugged her, then turned to hug Wetzel. She was so innocently pleased.
Pinkie nodded. “I will make the announcement. We will start planning the wedding.”
“Thank you,” Wetzel and Virginia said almost together as Pinkie departed.
“You are more than welcome.” Pinkie was gone. She had achieved her objective: to get him to settle in PinkPebble Village and breed their women.
Then Wetzel kissed Virginia again. “You are a virgin,” he said. “I like virgins.”
She was doubtful. “I don’t remember. I’m not sure whether I am really—”
“You are,” he said with authority. Whatever had happened with her body, and surely much had, considering the way men were, didn’t matter. She was his kind of virgin.
They talked compatibly about things, such as how he could assume unicorn form. She loved that, being naturally attracted to equines. Then they settled for the night on her bed. “Are we going to?” she asked.
“Not until we are married.” Because that was her culture, and he wanted to honor it even if she didn’t remember details.
They slept embraced, kissing frequently, and her happiness was manifest. So was his; the aura of her virginity suffused their association.
But in the morning she woke bemused. “Am I supposed to be here? With you? Where are we? I don’t remember.”
He started in. “I am Wetzel. You have a condition that prevents you from remembering the past. We have agreed to marry soon. We have slept together but not been intimate; that will wait until we marry. Except for kisses.” He kissed her. “We are friends, and I will take care of you. I will not allow anything bad to happen to you. I will answer any questions you have. Now we must clean up, get dressed, and get ready for breakfast.”
“Thank you.” The information might be new to her, but evidently there was that in her that readily understood about her condition. She was glad to have someone to guide her socially. A friend.
He took her to meet the team members. “This is my fiancee Virginia.” And to her: “You don’t need to remember all their names, as they will be departing in a few days. They are my friends, and wish you well.”
“We do,” Veee said.
It was wonderful. He had found his ideal virgin. He had everything he had wanted. Yet there was a small nagging reservation. Wetzel felt guilty for still missing LadyBug. Why couldn’t he be completely happy? He knew why: he had come to depend on the added telepathic power LadyBug had provided him, the ability to send as well as read. They had collaborated so very well, and he had loved her too, his little vicarious virgin. But she was gone, and he would simply have to get used to it.
In the afternoon he took Virginia for a walk around the village, so that the women could see them together and know it was true. They already knew about his tryst with Pinkie, of course. There would be others; it was part of the deal. But Virginia was his love, his renewable virgin. She would bear his babies, and the villagers would help raise them. He was sure Virginia would be a good mother, but she would need to be reacquainted with her situation and children each morning.
Something flew up before them. It looked like a scarab. Wetzel raised his hand, and the scarab perched on it. Hello Wetzel! Let me borrow your big mind.
“LadyBug!” he exclaimed jubilantly, bringing her to his head. Then he remembered. “But you can’t be, because—”
I am her daughter, one of a hundred, the same age she was when you associated.
“But she was thirty years old!”
Father said you might forget that time moves at ten thousand times the rate on Refuge as it does on other worlds.
“Father?”
You called him MaleBug. He told me he owes everything to you. You rescued him from the killers. You carried him safely to Refuge, along with fifty females. Now he has bred thirty of them, but he couldn’t breed me because I am his daughter. I am the one who got Mother’s memory of you. I had these weird fantasies of having virtual sex with a unicorn. I don’t even know what a unicorn is! I came to ask Father what was wrong with me, and he said nothing, because he knew that unicorn. There is no male in Refuge to breed me or my sisters, but he told me that I could have something almost as good. I could start the recolonization of the Amoeba. Maybe even find other males from the home world. He told me where to find you. May I stay with you, Wetzel? Will you help me find more males for Refuge?
“Yes!” he exclaimed gladly. This scarab had LadyBug’s memory of him! That was as close to a restoration of the original LadyBug as was feasible. Already he could feel the wound of his loss of the original LadyBug healing. His virtual virgin had returned!
Virginia looked at him questioningly.
He would have a lot of explaining to do. But for the moment this was enough. “I want you to meet another friend of mine. Her name is LadyBug, and she will help you remember each morning.” He put his hand up, LadyBug flew to it, and he held the scarab toward Virginia so she could see.
“She’s lovely!”
“Not just physically,” he agreed. “She is a virgin too.”
“Oh! I know we’ll get along.”
We will, LadyBug a
greed.
Already the vision of their future was forming. The team would move on without him, but he and LadyBug would make other visits to Scarabia, searching for more scarabs to save, avoiding the poachers. Completing the mission they had started. It would surely be all the adventure he craved.
There was something else. “Virginia, after we are married, I will take you to meet a dear friend of mine. You won’t be able to step onto her world, but I will bring her to the end of the trail to meet you. Her name is Weava, and she will like you and LadyBug and be glad for me. You will like her too.”
“I’m sure I will,” Virginia said.
Very sure, LadyBug echoed.
Author’s Note
I had actually worked out much of the second Trail Mix novel Beetle Juice before I started writing the first, Amoeba. They were a set, to see how the notion of a changing mix of characters along a trail worked out. When I finished the first novel I took about ten days to catch up on other chores, then started in on the second.
And immediately had a problem. I am always conscious of the needs of my readers, and try to write what they will like, in a way they can readily assimilate. Sequels are problematic because the author can’t just assume that every reader has read the first novel and is clear for the second. In the bad old days of paper books—uh, let me rephrase that: in the nostalgic bygone days of physical books, distribution could be spotty, and the first novel in a series could be out of print by the time the second was published, making it impossible for a new reader to read them in order. Electronic publishing should abate that problem, but if a friend lends his electronic reader with a novel on it, it may not be the first in the series, which got deleted to make room for new books. Same problem. So I couldn’t just start in where I left off; new readers would be confused by having to untangle five main characters and a situation all at once. I needed to re-introduce the characters, one by one. But then old readers would get bored, already knowing those characters and the nature of the Amoeba, and blame the author for lacking new imagination. It’s a balancing act without a clear yet compelling resolution. And that’s just the readers. Reviewers can be worse, and critics sometimes seem to be eagerly looking for any supposed flaw so they can trash the book without having to read the rest of it. Ask any experienced writer.