THE STORYTELLER

THE STORYTELLER

PART 2

BY KEN LEHNIG

Samson woke up angry and had an obviously painful erection. Benning snorted and looked over at Samson seeing the obvious bulge in his pants he laughed. The night was almost upon them.

"Gotta go or one hell of a dream? I envy you. It takes a lot these days to put wood in my pistol. There's this working gal in New Denver she had a way of…"

" It was 'her'. I got a look at her in my dream…She is a bit more than a women."

"Of course she is. We're not talking about the New Denver gal are we?"

Samson shook his head.

"Oh…You're talking about 'her'. Hell!… Look at the bounty. I got a feeling she ain't catchable and maybe not killable either."

Samson's eyes narrowed menacingly.

"Yeah…calm down. I know about the Barons… you took both contracts. I got no idea how we gonna do both. But if she is catchable there is gonna be a lot of hurt goes with the catching."

"I think you're right."

" While we are riding you will be thinking on a plan …right?

Samson got up without answering and saddled his horse. What had disturbed him was that he had woken with a start. His horse always warned him of danger and he prided himself in the smoothness in which he avoided danger. This woman caught him off guard and that made him very uncomfortable and embarrassed. And what the hell was this song in his mind about toes and noses?

Both men relieved themselves and drank some water. They both knew that a long night ahead and that Benning's son was in danger. The Keep would know he was there and they believed that evil begets evil. Raul would be judged for the same crime as his brother, if he were caught. Superstition and sophistry was a better fit in this New World order. The Keep wouldn't take the Geeks on in a fight. Those cavern- dwelling Odd Ones spent a lot of time thinking up nasty ways to booby trap their lairs. They knew from the spy birds that Samson was coming. Should he kill the Sheriff and the Judge there would be a period of chaos in the Keep until a new Sheriff and Judge could be appointed. The Geeks could look forward to a little peace. But should the Keep decide they could win such a fight the brainy little Trogs would aim one of their reclaimed space- flying sound weapons at the Keep and like Jericho the walls would come a-tumbling down. Raul was safe as long as he stayed with the Geeks. Knowing that, Samson and Benning knew that Raul was an impatient young man and the Geeks were not the best company.

" Let's go kill us a Sheriff."

"Damn Boss…" Benning mounted his horse and reined him up. " I can't say I have ever seen you this spooked. What this girl look like…I mean in your dream."

" I have never seen a woman so beautiful. Not in this world."

" Think maybe she's a demon?"

" In the truest sense, my old friend, that is exactly what she is."

Samson gave his Ebony a little kick and he was off like a shot. His cape flowing out behind him appeared as giant raven wings. Benning was right behind wondering if Samson would think up a plan. Knowing Samson he knew better. Whatever dark gods looked after the little monster they always saw him through. He looked at Samson's back and saw the wings; he believed it an illusion meant for him. Benning knew that his son would be avenged, both the Sheriff and the Judge had no idea what painful justice was coming their way. For all his pretenses, Benning was a brilliant and resilient man and he understood the irony of his situation. He was riding with a true demon. A demon as black as night, a dark fearful force and they were going to try to capture or kill a red headed demon of a different sort. One that invaded dreams, a succubus, and from what Benning had heard killed as easily as did Samson. He believed Samson to be as celibate as a priest. He had never seen him with women or with girl- men. That awakening was not a good thing. It was a bad omen indeed.

He also knew that on delivering the head, finger and ring Samson would allow the money to be split between Benning and his son Raul. He would take nothing from them but their complete loyalty and obedience, and they would give it or Samson would kill them both on the spot. If we gave it, no doubt, he would pull out a stolen Port or other liquor from the dead and de-fingered Judge, and we would toast our Binding Allegiance. And Benning and his son would pray to whatever gods that kept Samson going to watch over them as well.

Water was the real ruin of Earth. Rivers, seas and lakes sloshed crazily around the planet seeking any level while the planet danced and churned in the heavens. Noah's flood was a picnic by comparison. But the waters did settle and all was made new. Humans still survived, found food and began again to multiply. The Earth was upside down and everything that was, was no more.

The canyon, both men now rode in, was a series of water cuts that ran north and south. Some cuts were deeper than the old Grand Canyon but most had sheer walls of four hundred feet or more. The hoofs of wild horse, giant elk, deer, and newcamel made trails that the stout hearted or foolish could take to an advantage. The trails were perilous and had little concern for mans fear of heights. And there was also the added excitement of perhaps running into a herd of hoofed beasts running hard in the opposite direction. In that event you died of crushing hoof stomps or you died from the fall and subsequent drowning in the deadly current. The canyon system was cooler and easier to navigate than the equatorial surface of plant mass; the larger fauna took good use of the walled sanctuary. It rained daily, continually feeding the streams and rivers that coursed through the cuts, making the pathways slippery and treacherous. None of this seemed to be of any concern to Samson.

They rose out of the canyons at midnight to the silver light of both moons, another by- product of the cosmic reshuffle, at full rise. They had to dismount and lead their horses through the thick growth. They were vulnerable here, great cats roamed the surface areas and had a real taste for horseflesh and if that were unavailable man flesh would serve. They used to be called Pumas but Mother Nature, again, had her way and decided that there were far to many herbivores and made her little graceful Puma into a five hundred pound killing machine. The two moons rising together marked a cycle that put every animal in their vicinity in a mating frenzy adding to their exposed and tenuous position. They had to get to the 66 strip as quickly as possible.

Route 66 used to run east and west and was once a highway of legend and song. 'Getting you kicks on old Route 66' was still sung around campfires and hearths. Although the tune is always different and new verses get added all the time. Actually the only thing that is ever the same is the refrain 'Get your kicks on old Route 66'. There are no kicks to be had on old Route 66. The portion that Samson and Benning were heading for was now facing north and south and had sunk almost intact for about thirty miles. The shoulders on both side of the sunken roadway now created walls twenty feet above the concrete strip, mostly loose rock and lava stone, providing a break in the jungle that was easier to travel and provide some protection from predators, of any species. It took them four hours to travel three miles with Puma screaming, as musical company, the whole way. When they reached the road they were exhausted, but each man mounted and road the dirt edge at as fast a clip as footing would allow. The sun would be up soon and then it was man-predators they would have to deal with. They made the five miles just at daybreak, with thunder threatening to the south.

The bridge was an old train trestle that miraculously still spanned the gorge, still usable, if one didn't mind being used as target practice. At the base of the gorge on the opposite side was the Keep. A medieval looking structure constructed of large blue granite stone built up halfway up the deep gorge. At its top and at both ends were battlements and towers each the residence of the Judge, to the east, and the Sheriff, on the west. Behind was the city, a massive construction built on the ruin of an old dam, with a population of religious fanatics numbering twenty three hundred. The number, their clerics say is the exact number of their god. That required the monitoring, very closely, of births and deaths by the Judge. His judgment can seem to be arbitrary, for with one birth he may have any adult citizen put to death or he may have the infant slain. The Sheriff of course doing the dirty work and the clerics all expounding on the righteous wisdom that their god has delivered unto the Judge. It worked for now. The back of the city was a wall of granite out of which flowed pure artesian water. Under the living levels was an enormous pig sty, in the base of the Keep was constructed an elaborate plumbing system that lead to a massive sewer which spewed its turbid and stinking waste water into the swelling watercourse far below.

Samson knew of an old abandoned system that would allow a clever and gifted man access. That particular gift was the lack of any olfactory sense. Samson had no sense of smell. How that came to be no one knew. He could taste well enough that was odd for the two senses usually worked together. But there was a lot more about Samson then anyone knew.

They hoped to wait till dark to make their way down the gorge face to the lair of the Geeks. The trip through the canyons and jungle had been reasonably dry and now the skies opened up with a deluge accompanied with a cacophony of thunderous booms and fulminary flashes. Samson grinned at his associate through the din and down pour, if they had been in the canyons they would have been washed away, a small blessing now in the miserable drenching rain. In the daylight even with the downpour and low clouds they would be sitting ducks to Keep sharpshooters.

Each man kept watch, in shifts, Benning volunteered for the first watch while the other man tried to sleep, both men covered by waxed tarps that amplified the sound of the raindrops. There was no available shelter and little rest was possible in the misery, but it was the best they could do.

The world likes things the way the world likes things. And it didn't care if it worked out for Samson and Benning.

A very wet, hungry and perturbed giant puma had followed them the whole five miles. It was an enormous expenditure of energy for the beast and it had no intention of letting any meal, it was pursuing, get away. Ebony screamed a warning just as the five hundred-pound beast landed on the back of Benning's beautiful Roan. Huge jaws clamped on the throat of the horse tearing out the whole of the neck almost completely through, killing it instantly. There was no subtlety in the way this creature did its work. The Roan fell in a heap and the cat turned to pounce on Ebony. The great steed reared up and fearlessly slashed its hoofs at the head of the grouching cat, ripping a bloody gash. The animal howled in pain, momentarily confused at the uncharacteristic behavior of its natural prey. Benning lie, in frozen fear, on the wet ground. Suddenly Samson jumped impossibly high and landed on the back of the puma, with knifes in both hands he reached around the cats neck and slashed its throat. The cat made a horrifying wet huffing noise and tried to shake off the cause of its pain. Samson had already leapt off the beast and was standing eerily still, in the deep gray wet of the day, by his horse, illuminated whitely by each lightening flash. . The Great cat mewed like a kitten and fell dead with a splash to the ground. Benning stood and looked at Samson and his horse, a chill ran up his spine. What he saw could not have happened. The black figure in the gray shadow spoke quietly hardly heard above the pounding rain.

"I'm sorry about your Roan, I didn't react fast enough… I've gotten soft. I'll find you another of as noble a breed."

The black horse whinnied behind the man.

"Ebony said your horse gave his life for you. He purposely put himself between you and the cat. You were its intended target. The cat was hungry, tired and had to have an easy guaranteed meal."

"What now?" Benning bent down in despair and patted the near severed neck of his beloved horse. His tears were hidden as rain ran down his face.

" Our choices are limited now. We can't stay here. The bodies will attract a lot of nasty-teethy critters. This rain is here for awhile so we can't wait. We are going to try going down to the Geeks lair now. The lightening will expose us and we may take some fire from the Keep, the trail will be slippery and perilous but I think we have no choice." Samson walked over and stood by his companion understanding his grief. In these days a horse was more than a friend, he was your partner in the business of surviving.

Samson whispered to Ebony. The great horse whinnied and bobbed his head. Samson unbelted the saddle and removed it, took the bit from Ebony's mouth and pulled off the reins. The Horse reared and turned and was gone.

" Will go on foot …leave our saddles and kit here. Will cover our gear and the dead animals with leaf and rock then head down."

Benning sat anguished in the warm drenching rain.

"Come my friend." Samson gripped Benning's shoulder with some force." There is great sadness in the lose of your mount but you have one son who is dead and one who may yet find himself such…if we don't get to him soon."

Benning arose, he was a hardened man and knew that survival was first. His grief must be carried in a place in his heart, he would put the loss of his beloved horse in the same sacred place as he had his son, in that secret chamber, lock it away and go on. Samson was right they had to move and they better keep their wits about them. It would be a mistake to think that those who walked the Keeps ramparts would be any less diligent of their duty.

They took a great risk scrambling down the gorge face. There was no real trail, now, just a muddy jump from rock to rock with bullets bouncing around them.

They got down in the mud and crawled over to the ravine lip and looked across to the Keep. They had some luck because there was a low cloud thick in the deep of the gorge hiding them from the Keep guards. Samson was over and heading down in an eye-blink. Benning followed the black cape. It would be inaccurate to say they climbed down, it was actually a muddy slide into large rocks, hanging on for fear of overshooting and finding themselves in a headlong dive to the bottom of the gorge. They managed most of the way down before the bullets ricocheted off the rocks around them, adding further excitement to their endeavor. Samson ripped around and noted the clouds clearing. They would now be fully exposed. He urged Benning on through a hail of fire. Shards of rock bit into them, bloodying them, as the bullets slammed around them. The ducked under a rocky outcrop, at the ravine's bottom, that shielded them from rifle shot.

Benning shouted, wiping blood from his eyes," Back here… looks like a cave." Benning started to move further into the cave Samson yelled at him to stop.

"Traps…Benning. Don't move. We have to let our friends know we are here."

There was no clear shot from the Keep but they knew they would have snipers out, across the river at the base of the gorge. When the weather cleared more scouts would come out and look around. Samson reached behind him under his cloak and brought out a grenade.

"Pardon me…I know you’re the boss. But aren't these little tweebs our friends?"

" I'm never really sure but if I toss this in there…" Pointing into the passage that attracted Benning. " I'm thinking the little eggheads would believe if anyone came this way it would be the Keep lot."

"So blowing up the passage will do what?"

"Why get their attention." Samson grinned, pulled the pin and tossed the grenade. Both men hit the deck. The blast was larger than was expected. Dirt and debris rained down on them mixing with their wet clothes and wounds into a gluey mess.

Bennings smiled sarcastically, "If the Keep don't know anything they now no we're packing explosives."

A Geek with a small body and over-sized head came out of the dust and smiled. "Samson you blew up our booby traps…What you use… dynamite?"

"Grenade!" Samson hardly looked a black demon now. He was a small, brown, grinning and muddy troll.

The Geek laughed, as did Samson.

" Laughing doesn't help when a gracious invitation and shower would go along way and why is blowing up a cave a joke?" Benning was not in as good a humor as his companions.

The Geek still grinned. " I won the poll…Grenade!"

"Good for you." Samson growled; he had stopped smiling. Something about this Geek bothered him. "Send some one up when you can and get our gear."

The little troll smiled and nodded pointing the way into their liar.

"Is my son still here?' Benning begged, ignoring Samson's speedy mood shift.

"No, the Sheriff has him…come on the door is stainless steel three feet thick. The Keepies will never get in. This Lair used to be a military stronghold in the before time, we found all kinds of stuff… has all the amenities…hot water too. You are both bleeding. We have an infirmary." The Geek disappeared into a hole. The two men followed. Benning was bent over as much from cave height as the world falling on him.

* * *

Cassandra sat in a light cotton dress by the window sipping tea. Her feelings of femininity for most of the morning had distracted her. The little bastard, on his way to kill or capture her, was disturbing in more ways than she would care to admit. She had found a kind of peace here in the mountains and his eminent arrival was a problem. The conundrum was whether she should stay and deal with him or move onto her plan, ahead of schedule. It would be fun toying with him. She flushed, as her uncontrolled internal mechanisms betrayed her. She shivered with unaccustomed pleasure knowing Leo's head just screwed around sniffing her heat in the wind. God she was tired of that lummox. The clown had become a hindrance. Male demand over a long period of time exhausted her chemistry and she was forced to eat constantly. That fact alone interfered with her plans. Moscow was her eventual destination and Leo was, past unneeded protection, of no value. His constant rut was hateful and repugnant.

She had remembered her history lesson Florida was the launch point to space before the Change, but it was now deep underwater. The great USSR was brought down. Her people hungry, guilt ridden, sick and desperate until the Change made the once cold and proud people to flourish in a new and glorious warmth. They truly felt as if God forgave them, they who so willingly cast Him aside for the edicts of Socialism. The warm sun and the bloom of faith rose them to the new center of commerce and science. The Elite came and embraced the people, their culture, and had converted the once frozen landscape and tired city into a glorious megalopolis, spanning a thousand miles in every direction. New Moscow was the enlightened center of religion, new culture, technology and the single spaceport on a mostly primitive planet. The very place she would need to be if Mars could be attained and its domination were to be her goal. She had not yet controlled her abilities and dared not go amid such a mass of humanity until she could master all her inherent skills.

But today was a day for frivolous daydreams and the view from the window was glorious. The sun was high in the sky and the deep green and rich odor of the forest had a calming effect on her. A rattle under the cabinet just behind her chair startled her from her reverie. A movement and something dangerous, a scent, or a deeper knowledge made her jump straight up flipping in the air she crashing akimbo onto her bed. A little monster landed on her chair and now stared at her with eight, intelligent, black, shiny, hate filled eyes. Venom drooled from two, two-inch long, hideous fangs. She knew it now. Gaia had altered many species, after the Change, to fit the altered ecosystems. Here on her chair was an example of one of her nastiest creations. Its cousins are spiders but this one is a terror two feet across, with both external and connected internal skeletons. Sunbeams flared iridescent green and golden browns across its carapace; eight legs all as big around as a King crab moved and tapped off a staccato beat on the chair seat that made Cassandra's heart race. Her internal systems shut down in fear; she didn't move a muscle. If even a drop of that drooling venom entered her bloodstream she would be dead in thirty seconds, even a scratch would be fatal. The last time she had encountered one of these ugly little predators she was able to catch the beast in mid-leap and crush it before its fangs found flesh. This time she may not be as lucky.

The creature did not move as if assessing the danger. There was no doubt in its cunning too-large-for-a bug brain that it could better the large pink faced feast, now laying in abject fear on the floor, although there was something in its odor that was disturbing. Its feet again rattled the wood of the chair, unlike a rattlesnake this ado was an invitation to the dance. Smell or no smell this 'big pink' would feed it for a week and guarantee a new brood. It crouched and jumped.

Leo sniffed the air turning his huge torso. He set down the ax and turned toward the cabin. Wood chopping would have to wait five minutes or maybe ten, if she resisted. She was on the wind and the deep rich smell of her was everywhere but it wasn't the smell of readiness. A finger went to one side of his nose and he blew out a huge lugie that slammed in a squish on the chopped woodpile. Then he repeated the vile procedure on the other nostril. When he was satisfied after a little more snuffling, grunting and sleeve wiping he lifted his great woolly head and took in a lung full of air through his now cleared out nostrils. He grinned evilly because, to him, fear was as good as ready. He never ran so fast in his whole retched life. The door to the cabin caved in under his enormous weight. He turned with a lecherous grin spying Cassandra on the ruined bed, her legs splayed and her dress up around her hips, and thought that he was the luckiest man in the world.

The too-large-spider-thing-with-no-name landed mid-flight on the back of Leo's head. It didn't wait to figure out what had happened. It was well enough that what was under him was bigger and just as full of blood and gooey goodness as its former intended prey. It slid down the head slightly to avoid the vain attempt made by the prey to dislodge it and sank its fangs deep into the flesh of the nape.

Leo felt the beast land on his head but didn't react at first. His tiny mind and now erect manhood had their full attention on Cassandra. His hands went up instinctively to brush off the 'insect' on his head. Just as the fangs sank. The electric jolt slammed his nervous system and shut it down completely.

Leo fell full on top of Cassandra, he was as dead as it was possible to be. She reached around quickly crushing the busy feeding spider-thing, threw Leo's inert body off her and across the room. The gore of the spidey-thing smelled of sulfur and made Cassandra's eyes sting and water. It didn't take long for her to decide that it was time to move on. Picking up Leo's body, with spidey attached, she threw them both out the window. She changed clothes and had a horse saddled and another packed in less than two hours.

Cassandra road south smiling at the way her world works. She sang her own words to a tune she once heard, to no one in particular, "Someone got to do something about the spiders. Someone got to do something 'bout them spyyyy…ders. Someone got to do somethin' 'bout them spiders…all on a Sunday morrrr… ning…all in the kitchen with Dinah la la la la."

END PART 2

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