“Trudging isn’t a good look for me. I’m a city boy, you know. Urban survivalist. I can find the nearest purveyor of a mocha almond milk frozen cappuccino with seventeen teaspoons of sugar in the form of syrup in any city in the world, but ask me what plant might give me a rash for touching it, and I’ll advise you to avoid all the plants.”
Not that there are many plants here. I mean they wouldn’t survive here, would they? It’s too dry and hot. And the lava on the ground makes survival questionable for any species that can dry out and shrivel up. Like me.
The air is so arid here that it feels like it’s currently tanning my skin and turning it into leather while at the same time desiccating me, and I’m going to wake up from this hellscape as a cursed mummy bent on revenge against…
Well, Stalker Steve, probably.
I wonder if he trashed my apartment. That would suck.
After walking about half an hour, I’m maybe halfway to my destination, and ahead of me a pile of dirt stirs. I stop in my tracks, watching as a monster with six eyes rises out of the ground. It has two articulated antennae atop a dirt colored bald head. It’s mouth looks like a hole in its face, which makes sense, I suppose, since it has scorpion foreclaws for hands. Its long body is covered in an exoskeleton, which is super disturbing since it’s sort of human shaped.
Have you ever seen that movie,Prometheus? The alien in it had armor that looked like an exoskeleton with waaay too many bones; I think that costume design could have been inspired by this, uh, being.
“Hello there. Can you understand me?” It can’t hurt to check for language comprehension. I mean, I don’t know what the creature is, but the stegosaurus could both shapeshift and talk and made it clear that I have a pretty narrow view of the universe.
“Of course, human,” the creature replies caustically. By that I mean, it spits and that glob lands on the dirt and starts bubbling and hissing. Its voice is actually fairly mundane considering the terrifying visage.
I take a cautious step backward. “I don’t think my skin will survive any accidental spittle,” I explain. “Can you tell me where I am?”
“Hell. Is that a baby flink wrapped around your head?” the creature asks.
“That’s what I was told by a stegosaurus named Bill. We were planet hopping and it tuckered the poor thing out before they teleported us back to Earth.”
The creature makes a clicking sound, and more spittle lands on the ground, hissing and bubbling. “They’re not likely to know how to get you back to Earth if they’ve gotten lost. They have to be able to aim. You likely landed here because they aimed through a portal. Hell is a contained realm. There aren’t other planets in this realm. This isn’t even a planet you’re standing on. It’s a realm with a boundary—you can only walk so far before you find the edge of the realm and it turns you back. Beyond the boundary is the void between universes. I’ve seen it. Screaming into the void is very satisfying, if you’re into that kind of thing. I hear humans like to do that when they tour Hell.”
“Oh, I thought ‘Hell’ was some kind of translation. So this is, like, actually Hell? Who knew religion was right?”
The creature spits again. “No, of course not. There’s no evidence for or against God with a capital G. Plenty of gods with a little g, but none of us really know if there’s a Big G God. Hellis a place that some humans visited once a few thousand years ago, and they decided to vilify us like demons are all evil. I mean, yeah, some of us are. I’m fully evil and proud of it, but my sister’s good, and we get along fine. We just accept each other for what we are, and family dinners aren’t bad.”
“Makes sense. I think we’re all a little bit of both. I’m not saying you’re good—I understand you’re evil, but we’re having a pleasant conversation, and you’ve been helpful.”
He spits again. “Well, like recognizes like, right?”
I shrug. “Yeah, sure. I don't really consider myself evil. More like morally gray. A good mix of both good and evil. I’m good enough to pass and evil enough to stay alive, ya know?”
“Makes sense. Well, come on. I’ll take you to the embassy. They’ll get you back to Earth, though you better hope you get an evil demon who’s not going to ask any questions about kidnapping a baby flink. A good one’ll arrest you unless you have guardianship papers.”
“Thanks for the warning.” I’m not sure how to convince anyone that I was the one who was abducted, especially when the abductor in question is a baby.
“I’ll take it from here,” a new voice says from behind me. It’s a deep baritone that makes me stop in my tracks again, afraid of what might be behind me. It’s so deep that it makes me think creature-from-the-abyss, and for a moment I might be genuinely terrified of the person behind me.
My escort turns at the voice and spittle flies out of their mouth. “Someone hire you to steal my bounty again?”
“Jauktuk”—the deep baritone spits that out, and I have no idea what it means—“The baby’s parents are paying me by the hour for a search and rescue. You can have the human, but you know it’s illegal in all realms to remove a baby flink from their perch.”
Hmm. That’s a very distinct accent happening. Arkansas, I think. I’ve heard it before in real life, and that guy was from a place called Coal Hill.
“You could just meet us at the gates, I get my bounty, you get another hour of pay. What do you say?” the creature asks.
I’m getting the impression that maybe this creature lied to me about taking me to the embassy.
I turn, and floating in midair above my head is an Asian guy with blue streaks in his black hair, guyliner, at least a pound of silver hanging off his neck in chains, ripped black skinny jeans, and a black t-shirt that was probably a band t-shirt back in the nineteen eighties. He’s wearing a utility belt, a whole slew of silver rings, and combat boots, and he’s holding a long, fancy-looking knife.
“I would have said yes to that proposal if you hadn’t forced me to bleed you and ruined my favorite pants the last time we met.”
Listen, I don’t have a thing for voices, but if I did, I’m pretty sure this guy would win. Well, if he had a different accent, obviously. No offense to southern drawls, but they just aren’t my thing. Give him a French accent, and I think I’d probably drop my pants.
Which means I need to stay away, because heaven knows I have shit taste in men.
