‘A positively wonderful morning,’ he said to Ellery maliciously. There was a groan from Ellery's bunk followed by a sticky sucking sound as the GI discovered something unpleasant in his mouth.
‘Is it ever morning here,’ Ellery finally rasped, ‘Jesus! My head.’
Carroll chuckled.
‘Whadda you so happy about, Bud? It was me that carried you here after that drunk. Christ! You started slow but you soon caught up. You should be worse than me!’ Ellery snapped.
On a serious note Carroll asked, ‘Did the General tell you about these rooms?’
‘Yeah,’ said Ellery bluntly. Carroll chuckled again. Ellery stared at him with bloodshot eyes. ‘I bet you're one of those bastards that sing in the mornings as well.’
‘A few pints of water to drink and a cold shower does wonders. All I need now is a cup of tea.’
‘Yuk,’ said Ellery.
Chuckling still, Carroll exited the room. After a short exploration he found the main area with the personalised creation booths. The only other occupant here was the Roman Legionary. He nodded to that one, went to his booth, and typed out for a pot of tea, cup, and jug of milk, and a breakfast of bacon, fried eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms, sausages and bread. His situation might be weird and somewhat deadly, but he was not one to miss out on its advantages. He set this breakfast down on a table, then went to the door. Still sunset out there; forever twilight. However, neither the General nor the Reaper was in sight. What business were they about, he wondered, as he returned to his breakfast.
As he tucked into his food Carroll wondered again about the possibilities of escape. Putting aside the fact that he had no idea of where he would be escaping to, he considered how an escape could be engineered. Quite simply, the Reaper and the General would have to be eliminated and both at the same time as both of them had weapons that could be brought to bear rapidly: the General his baton, and the Reaper those discs. Some co-ordinated action would be necessary so Carroll could not do it by himself. Considering that, he looked up as Ellery entered the room, got himself a pot of coffee, and came to the table.
‘Ah, you are still alive then?’ he said to the GI.
Ellery gazed at him blearily and did not reply until with a shaking hand and deep concentration he had poured himself a cup of coffee and taken a sip.
‘Depends on what you mean by alive,’ he said acerbically.
Carroll grinned, finished the last of his breakfast then poured himself a cup of tea.
‘May I join you?’ said the legionary, who had silently approached their table. He was a big, dark-haired man with a square jaw that was cleanly-shaven, unlike Ellery's. His eyes were an incongruous blue, his musculature sharply defined, and his nose inevitably patrician. He wore a white toga with a pattern of laurel leaves embroidered on it, and sandals much like the ones Carroll had found in the cupboard in their room. Carroll liked the look of him; he seemed in control, efficient.
‘If you like, yes,’ he replied.
The legionary sat down and regarded Ellery with a raised eyebrow before turning back to Carroll.
‘I am Julius Daeus Augustus,’ he said, and Carroll was interested to note that just for his name the movements of his lips meshed with his translated words. I’m getting used to it, he thought. He was becoming inured to strangeness.
‘Jason Carroll,’ he said, and gesturing to Ellery, ‘and this object is David Ellery.’
Ellery nodded once in Julius's direction then leant back in his chair with his eyes closed. The corner of Julius's mouth twisted as he suppressed a grin.
‘Ellery doesn't feel well,’ said Carroll.
‘Yes, so I see,’ said Julius. ‘I had expected you to be as he is. He walked out of here. You did not.’
Carroll pushed his plate away, leant back, and took out a cigarette. ‘I recover quickly,’ he said.
Julius did not reply. He was staring in open curiosity as Carroll lit his cigarette.
‘I don't suppose you had anything like this in your time?’
Julius frowned in puzzlement.
‘Time?’ he said, then, after shaking his head, ‘Certain primitive peoples inhaled the smokes from the leaves of certain plants. They had the same effect as strong wine.’
‘This isn't quite the same.’
Julius continued to stare, then after a moment asked, ‘May I try one?’
Carroll shook a cigarette from the box and offered it.
‘I don't suppose you'll get lung cancer here. I warn you though. You won’t like this,’ he said.
Julius took the cigarette and held it in his hand like Carroll held his.
‘The device you used. May I use it?’
Carroll took out the zippo Ellery had obtained while they were drinking, demonstrated it, then handed it over. Julius lit the cigarette, gazing with fascination at the lighter all the while, then he had a fit of coughing, and with his eyes watering he handed the lighter back.
‘You are right. I do not like this. Perhaps I will like the effect though.’ Stubbornly he continued to draw on the cigarette.
Their conversation lapsed for a while then as Julius and Carroll smoked and Ellery clutched at his head self-pityingly every time the Roman coughed.
‘This place looked like a bomb hit last night,’ Carroll eventually commented, ‘yes, I suppose you could call it last night. Who cleared up?’
‘Before I answer that,’ said Julius, ‘what is a bomb?’
Carroll studied him for a long moment. ‘That did not translate?’
‘The machine that speaks for you was silent.’
Carroll nodded, ‘A bomb is a weapon that causes great destruction ... like Greek fire.’
Julius nodded, then ruefully studying the end of his cigarette said, ‘I know Greek fire.’
Now directing his question wholly at Julius he asked, ‘Who cleared up?’
‘It was just after he carried you away,’ said Julius, gesturing at Ellery. Even the translation showed ironic humour. ‘The General kept four of us back to clear away the mess. Everything went into a cylinder through there,’ he gestured to one of the doors, ‘and disappeared.’
‘Mmmm, I suppose it’s logical that if they can create things as easily as they do they can destroy things easily as well.’
‘Like us,’ said Ellery morosely.
Julius and Carroll nodded grim agreement.
The other members of the team soon began to file in: a World War One Tommy, a Cavalier and Roundhead who kept pointedly separate, the Masai, a Turag, four others of some Eastern race Carroll did not recognise, the Redcoat, one who could only have been a Samurai, and of course, Kruger. They all settled down in their various groups and began eating, drinking, and speaking in their various translated and untranslated languages. Shortly after they were all gathered the General came in from outside to be met by an abrupt silence.
‘You have all rested and eaten,’ he said, and took out a large pocket watch, which immediately reminded Carroll of a certain white rabbit created by a namesake of his. ‘The game will commence in one half of an hour,’ he finished, then turned and left. Carroll wondered how his words had come out to the others. He turned to Ellery.
‘It's strange that we all understand what he is saying,’ he said. Ellery peered at him dimly. Carroll continued, ‘What does ‘one half of an hour’ translate as to people who have never known clocks?’
Ellery glanced pointedly at Julius.
Julius said, ‘I know what a clock is ... I understood him.’
He sounded amazed at his own perceptiveness.
‘You know what that means don't you?’ Carroll said grimly to them both.
Julius seemed completely lost, whilst Ellery’s face bore a pained expression, which only gradually cleared. He then nodded in grim agreement.
‘I do not understand,’ said Julius.
Carroll explained, ‘It means that our minds have been tampered with.’
‘What else do you reckon they've done?’ asked Ellery.
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Carroll shrugged, ‘Placed inhibitions. Taken away our urge to escape or weakened it. Cut down on our panic reactions. When you think about it, our behaviour has been pretty subdued considering our situation here.’
‘I have noticed this,’ said Julius, ‘I do not think of gods... yet I... I am sure that... I mean, I died?’
‘You died,’ Carroll affirmed.
‘Yes,’ said Julius, bowing his head and staring at the table top, ‘I know of few who have survived a sword in the stomach.’
Overcome by curiosity Ellery asked, ‘Who did that to you?’
‘One of the islanders of Nothern Britain, a mad race, completely uncontrollable.’
Something concerning a story he had once heard occurred to Carroll then.
‘What legion were you in?’
‘The Ninth.’
Carroll nodded to himself. ‘I know ... knew, historians who would have a lot to ask you.’
Julius glanced up from the table top. ‘Historians?!’ he repeated with something approaching panic, and swung his attention from Carroll to Ellery then back again.
Carroll regarded him speculatively. How much had his mind been fooled with?
‘You are not fully aware of the situation then?’ then after a pause, ‘to me and Ellery the Roman Empire is history, like, a couple of thousand years in our past.’
Julius gaped at him, before finally managing,’ ‘I thought your dress was strange, but the Empire is large.’ He stared at the table top again.
Carroll nodded. ‘All the people here are from different ages.’
‘What ... what happened to the Empire?’
‘It decayed,’ replied Carroll, then stood up. ‘Let's go outside.’
Julius and Ellery stood and followed him.
The Reaper and the General were still as statues, facing each other as if conferring, but preternaturally silent.
‘Empires fall and rise, ages pass. As human beings we must face the trials of the moment,’ said Carroll pointedly. The three silently regarded their foe.
After a time the General turned from the Reaper and gazed across at them. Then, after pressing his finger against his ear he turned to face the building.
‘The game is shortly to commence. Muster immediately.’ The instruction came through Carroll's translator as if the man was standing right next to him. He glanced round at Ellery and Julius who both signified that they had heard the instruction as well.
♠♠♠
Shortly the fighters began to file out of the building and approach the General. They came reluctantly, but they came. The General watched them with his monocled eye like some scientist studying mediocre specimens. When they were all seated in the chairs he turned once again to the Reaper. It was then that Kruger suddenly stood up and approached them. A muttered conversation ensued. The General nodded, and Kruger resumed his seat. As he did so the Reaper swung towards the building. An interval of stillness and silence was broken by a sudden low but powerful AC hum issuing from the Reaper's throne. With sinister deliberation the Reaper turned its skeletal head to stare out across the steel plain. Abruptly the hum became a roar and the throne howled into the air to hover about thirty feet from the ground.
Shielding his eyes from the sudden gusting and swirling of the wind Carroll watched as the throne rotated until it wavered on then centres on one direction like a compass needle. The Reaper then reached into the arm of its throne and removed a disc. A glare of ruby light ignited between the Reaper's eye socket and the disc. Distantly Carroll thought he heard a scream, though that could have been his imagination since it was obvious what was happening. The light flashed out of existence, the Reaper replaced the disc in the box, and the throne began to settle with the winding down roar of a jet turbine. Carroll now watched the resurrection machine. The door thumped open, and out staggered the Cavalier. He had tried to escape and failed.
The General broke the silence, speaking as if nothing of consequence had happened. But then death seemed to have no consequence in this place.
‘The rules of the game are now more complex,’ he said, twirling the end of a moustache between his fingertips, ‘as before, you will move to the hexagons you are directed to, and as before you will fight to the death anyone you find there. These basic rules remain the same.’ No one spoke. All watched and waited. The General continued, ‘However, you will receive additional vocal instructions, sometimes telling you to follow light lines that will appear on the ground, telling you what to do with some weapons, and occasionally telling you to defend more than one hexagon. This will all come clear to you during the game. Now, take your positions.’
The General finished his speech with a wave of his baton. Carroll looked askance at Ellery then walked to blue five as his wristband instructed him.
♠♠♠
The game commenced as it had before. Carroll went to his starting hexagon and Kruger and Ellery moved into positions either side of him. Shortly he was moved to the next hexagon in, then the next and the next. It was after he stepped into the seventh hexagon that things began to change.
‘Follow the yellow line,’ came the General's curt instruction in his ear. He peered down at a yellow line that had appeared, growing from where he stood and extending itself into the next hexagon at a walking pace. He followed where it directed him, knowing it would certainly not be back to Kansas.
As he entered the next hexagon the line began to grow at a greater rate. He glanced back and saw that it was now shrinking from behind and was already out of the hexagon he had started in. He picked up his pace to keep with the line. It did not take much imagination to guess what would happen if he did not.
To begin with he was trotting to keep up, then finally, running. All his concentration centred on getting his breath and following the line. Then, it came to a halt, and gasping, he halted with it. As it faded he cursed himself for smoking. After all, his new body was probably free of addiction. Once he had his breath back he checked his wristband to confirm that he was in the correct hexagon, then stood upright and scanned around.
Scattered all around there were combatants swinging at each other with clubs, knives, and other weapons of death. There were others sprinting to keep up with lines, and still others, like Carroll, who were waiting their turn. Amongst all this were ubiquitous oily balefires that told of both victory and defeat. Directly ahead of him Carroll saw three possible opponents advancing on him a hexagon at a time. They appeared to be ancient Egyptians so he guessed they were from Anubis's team. To one side he saw the recently resurrected Cavalier, advancing a hexagon at a time to intercept the three. Carroll watched as he entered a hexagon at the same time as one of the three, the ensuing rush to grab weapons, then the two backing off clutching sabres. Next they quickly engaged, and the Egyptian did not stand a chance. He was decapitated in seconds.
‘General instruction,’ the General informed his team. Carroll would have laughed at the pun at any other time and in any other place. ‘Retain your weapons. I repeat: retain your weapons.’
Still grasping his sabre the Cavalier advanced to meet the next Egyptian. Carroll did not see what happened next because a flare of light distracted him. He turned to see a short, broad-bladed sword lying at the centre of his hexagon. He lurched over to grab it up. By the time he turned back to see what had happened to the Cavalier he was dead and burning and the Egyptians were close. One of them, he saw, carried a trident, the other, a morning star, and not the pretty kind.
‘Move at will within the red line,’ was the General's next instruction. Carroll checked around as a red like appeared to enclose four hexagons including his own. The General continued with, ‘Kill all opponents who cross the line. Members of your own team can join you to help with the defence. Do not kill them.’
Somewhat superfluous instructions Carroll thought. He had known what he had to do from the moment the red line had appeared. He checked to see if anyone was being sent to help him. Distantly he could see Julius and closer th
e Masai, both were coming towards him a hexagon at a time. Having not yet gained a full understanding of the game he did not know if they would reach him before the Egyptians nor if they were being sent to help at all. He turned to face his prospective opponents, wondering if he would ever understand the rules, wondering if there were any.
Judging the pace at which they were approaching Carroll reckoned that the one with the trident would reach him about two minutes before the one with the morning star. Holding his sword in readiness he wondered if he would be able to kill the first one in two minutes.
The first Egyptian stepped over the line and advanced slowly. Carroll could not allow this. The fight had to be quickly finished. He leapt forwards flailing his sword from side to side, then staggered back as the prong of the trident grazed his ribs. He saw an opportunity then and stepped forwards once again to invite attack. The Egyptian stabbed at him once again. He moved slightly to one side, the prong of the trident again grazing his ribcage, then he closed his arm down on the trident and caught its haft in his armpit. The Egyptian tugged at it and too late realized this was the wrong thing to do. Carroll's sword came down and gashed his arm through to the bone. The man staggered away trying to stem the flow of blood, his face twisted with shock.
Carroll turned the trident as the second Egyptian entered the area he was set to defend and threw it like a spear. It entered below his opponent's sternum. With a look of surprise the man fell back and sat down, then his expression changed with his awareness of pain to come. Carroll did not give him a chance to suffer that pain. He stepped in close, and putting as much force behind the blow as he could, split the unfortunate man's head in two. He then turned to the one he had wounded. There was a pool of blood gathering below his gashed arm and obvious impatience in his expression.
‘Hurry,’ intoned Carroll's translator. For a moment Carroll could not understand what he meant. Then, as the man closed his eyes then and tilted his head to one side, Carroll realized that this man wanted a quick death. Carroll quickly obliged him then, after collecting up the spare weapons moved as far from the two corpses as his area allowed. Behind him dull thuds marked the ignition of the two corpses and he turned to see them burning brightly, spewing oily smoke into the air and tainting it with a smell like roasting pork. Carroll swallowed bile.