Chapter III.6

He is on a dark plain with silver grass, wide as the ocean. He is alone, hurrying forward under the black, heavy sky. He does not know for how long he has been walking, not for how long he must continue to walk; like the dark plain itself, the hours stretch away to infinity in all directions.

A swirling wave scuds across the silver grass, bringing with it a gust of humid wind. A cold tightness fingers his flesh and he walks faster. The warm air rumbles faintly.

Suddenly he knows that he is no longer alone. He looks behind but there is no-one. His feet fly across the silver grass as he hurtles forward; he is moving like the wind and yet gets nowhere. The rolling rumble comes again, trembling up through the thin soles of his shoes. He is being watched, he can feel the force of human eyes crushing him against the plain. Glancing quickly from side to side, he stumbles but does not fall.

A sharp whiteness flickers through the darkness. He stops dead and for a long while hears nothing but his own heartbeat, pulsing cold dread through icy veins. For, by the sudden light of the lightning, he saw three figures in the banks of black cloud that are pilled against the horizon. And now, though the lightning is gone and he sees nothing, he can feel their terrible presence in the great blackness, a woman and two children filling the sky, staring down at him with empty, expressionless faces.

Thunder rumbles as the storm draws near.

The thunder rolled inexorably across the ink dark sky, shaking the ground under his legs, with the cold breeze of its approach in his face. The tree trunks trembled at its coming and resonated its power like organ pipes.

Trees? What trees?

Loofah's eyes snapped open and he sat forward. No, there were no trees; he was still in the luminous cavern, and the trembling trunks were its melting cathedral pillars. And yet something still wasn't right, for here, deep underground, a breeze blew in his face and thunder rolled, echoing through the air and getting closer, getting closer.

He had no time to ponder the anomaly—a nanosecond later a roar burst through the hollow space, rattling his bones. He saw it now, far across cavern, a tidal wave of gold foam, tearing through the forest of white trunks.

Loofah's heart stopped beating and for an eternity he just watched the foaming wall crashing towards him, mesmerised by the deafening roar thundering in his skull. Then his heart fired again and he sprang to his feet. The tunnel was a few yards behind him, a narrow oval in the cavern wall—he dived for it, headlong.

The roar was closing fast and the wind of its approach whistled up his body as he slithered forward in the slime, more eel than man. The mad wind howled in his skull—and then it caught him, a giant's fist driving into his legs sending torrents of furious water bursting under his chest and over his back.

Foaming, tearing water, blind force around and behind him, with hot brine roaring in his eyes, his ears, his mouth. He screams noiselessly into the maelstrom and, like a cannonball, is fired down the black tube of the tunnel.

He explodes from the canon's mouth, bursting into the daylight in a vast golden spray. For a moment he is flying with the cold wind across his face, but then he is falling, tumbling down in the vast curtains of a waterfall. The fall ends abruptly in a shattering thud at the hard surface of the pool, then he is smashed by a thousand angry fists as the waterfall hammers him deeper into the water.

The battering reaches an insane crescendo; the water is around him and in him, filling his mouth, his nose, his lungs—he inhales warm brine and gags violently, screaming for air. As he is hammered deeper, deeper, black blood pounds in his skull and all is red.

Then, quite abruptly, the hammering stops—suddenly all is calm and he is hanging quietly in the bright, golden water. He breathes in—blood-warm water fills his tortured lungs bringing blessed relief—and exhales. Beams of morning sunlight, scattered by the rippling surface, form a flashing forest of topaz stems.

But just as his oneness with the peace of the water was nearing completeness, a sudden splash booms in his skull and silver bubbles burst across his face. What seems to be a giant fist seizes his collar and he is wrenched upwards out of his tranquillity.

With the surface of the water breaking over him, Loofah burst out into the bright sunlight. He was pulled over soft mud, flapping like a drowning fish, and then dropped, face down, onto the mossy earth. As he scrabbled on the ground, struggling to breathe, a hard fist punched rhythmically into his back, pumping the water out of his sodden lungs.

At last he managed haul a mouthful of air into his heaving chest—only to have it kicked out him from behind. He tried again, but another kick drove him face down into the soil, clogging his mouth and nostrils with mud. Finally, with his last gasp, he managed to force out a single kick-punctuated word: 'Sto—unh!—op!'

'You fool, you are keeling it!' shouted a voice—and the pumping stopped.

'Oh my God,' moaned Loofah, after coughing out another pint of water, then hauling in a whole lungful of air.

'Son-uva-gun!' cried another voice, 'Strike me dahn if the goddamn thing ain't alive 'n' kickin'!'

'No sanks to you, you eediot.'

There seemed to be two of them standing over him; one was definitely American, the other from somewhere in Eastern Europe. Loofah heaved himself out of the mud and turned to look—and then screamed.

'God damn, you've done fright-ed the poor li'l critter near to death!'

For there weren't two of them—but one.

'It eez you it is scared of—you are so vary ugly.'

It was a bird, though a bird the size of a horse. And whilst the great creature had no more than the customary two of feet, legs, and wings, it also sported two separate necks, each topped with a huge crow's head.

'You're a-callin' me ugly, asshole?'

And yet, despite its disquieting superfluity of heads, the most horrifying feature of the monstrous animal was its baldness.

'Ugly as ze seens of hell.'

With a body like a plucked turkey, its pale beige skin was goose-pimpled with empty feather follicles. Huge flipper wings flapped uselessly at its side and each pink bald head was studded with a pair of evil, black-bead eyes. The only normal features of this gross creature were its vast black claws, digging into the earth like the roots of some ancient tree, and its twin black beaks, each a yard long and a foot deep, a pair of rock-crushing monsters.

'Commie asshole!' shouted the American, stabbing at the other's eye with its beak.

'Capitaleest rag of ze toe!' replied its Slavic colleague, dodging out the way, and then going in for its own attack.

As soon as he had recovered sufficiently from the crow's resuscitation efforts, Loofah pulled himself to his feet and stood leaning against a silver birch at the edge of the river, coughing up the last of its water and trying to wipe the mud from his sodden jacket and trousers with equally soiled hands. He kept an uneasy eye on his new companion, who was still bickering furiously with itself a few yards away.

Crack! One massive beak smashed against the other and then both erupted in a storm of irate squawking. Loofah grimaced uneasily to himself; this he did not need and the sooner he was away from the dreadful creature, the happier he would be. And so, taking advantage of its apparent distraction, he tiptoed carefully away on squelching shoes.

But no sooner had he set off than the earth began to tremble, while behind him branches cracked and trees shivered.

'Hold there, ma boy,' cried a by now familiar voice.

Loofah stopped and turned as the huge bird thundered up to him.

'T'ain't right to go moseying off like thaht!'

'Ya, and vot about zum sank yous for my friend here,' added the Russian head, towering over him with an angry glare, 'for pulling you out of ze vorter?'

Loofah cowered under the great beaks, which were now swaying over him like a pair of drunk-driven JCBs.

'So sorry,' he said, 'I thought you were busy.'

'Busy?' said the American, 'What put that thar idea in your l'il ole' head?'

'Um, it's just that you seemed to be, er…' Four beady eyes peered down at him in not altogether friendly puzzlement. He grinned appeasingly and started backing away. 'Oh well, it doesn't matter. But now if you'll excuse me, I must dash. I've a, er, bit of pressing business to attend to.'

'Pressin' business, eh? More pressin' than good manners, is that?'

'More pressing than a leetle friendly chat vis yor two new droogs?'

Loofah grinned again, glancing from one lethal beak to the other. 'I would like to stay a while,' he said, 'I really would. But the fact is I have to find someone. Rather urgently, I think.'

'Some-von?' asked the Russian, 'And who might zat be?'

'Er, actually I don't think I should—.'

'He means old Mary Four-Tits,' interrupted the other, 'Ah reckons ya means ol' Mary Four-Tits, don't ya boy?'

'Um, yes, I suppose I do,' said Loofah, a little uncertainly, 'But I was told not to say. It's supposed to be a secret.'

'A secret? Goddamnit boy, you're The Seeker. The whole goddamn world knows you're after ol' Four Tits. Ain't that a-right, Boris?'

'Sure sing, Hank,' said Boris, imitating his colleague's accent.

'It's just that I was told that the whole thing was confidential, a sort of special project, and that I wasn't to tell anyone.'

'An' who's been a-tellin' you all this, boy? That wouldn't be that l'il ol' underground antelope back there, would it?'

Loofah nodded. For a bald, two-headed crow, this creature seemed to be remarkably well-informed.

'Don't you go worryin' about that l'il ole' deer, boy,' said Hank, 'An' he didn't mean us anyhows. We's on his side, an' we's a-here to help—ain't we Boris?'

'Ya, Hank, zis is true,' said Boris, 'But I sink if ze Hart has said secret, Ze Seeker should keep ze secret.'

'Come on, man, you know that ole' Hart. He takes every itty-bitty li'l thing too damn serious—an' you know it.'

'Ze Hart of ze Darkness is a senior Comrade in ze Party,' said Boris, coldly, 'It is not right to speak in zis vay.'

'You accusin' me of un-American attitudes?' said Hank, turning a wicked eye on his companion.

In no time was Loofah was cowering at the foot of an oak while, above his head, the giant beaks smashed into each other amid a torrent of squawked abuse.

'Red scum!'

'Capitaleest oppressor!'

Cold air breezed over his scalp as one the massive weapons swept by. That had been far too close for comfort, he thought—he'd had enough. He rolled out of the way, jumped to his feet and was off.

But he hadn't gone five paces when he was hauled into the air by his jacket collar, his legs kicking uselessly two feet above the ground.

'Damn me, boy,' said Hank—it must by Boris who held him, 'You be f'rever a-runnin' off!'

'I don't want to seem rude, Mr Hank, I really don't,' said Loofah, 'but I do have to be on my way. Finding the double woman is an urgent priority—the deer was very clear about that.'

'Oh, don't think we ain't a-knowing' all about these urgent prior-eye-teetees, boy, 'cos we is. An' if yous will stop a-runnin' off for half a dang minute, me an' Bo-Bo here might just be able to lend an itty-bitty bit of a helpin' hand.'

'Really? You can help me?' asked Loofah with sudden enthusiasm, forgetting the discomfort of his position.

'Did Ah not just a-say that?'

'You mean—you can tell me where she is?'

'Ha-ha-ha! If that ain't the darndest thing I ever did hear!' laughed Hank, bursting the short-lived bubble of Loofah's hope, 'You can let him down now, Bo-Bo—this li'l critter don't know nothin'.'

Loofah dropped to the soft ground, just managing to keep his balance. When he turned to face the crow, he saw that Boris had joined in the general mirth and that both heads now cackled together maniacally, the beaks snapping and bobbing almost as dangerously as when they were fighting.

'Do I take it, then, that you are not going to tell me where she is?' Loofah asked irritably, not happy about being the butt of a joke he did not understand.

'Deed not ze Comrade Hart tell you?' said Boris, controlling his giggles, 'Ze location of ze Magic Vooman eez not known. Not to Comrade Hart, not to us, not to any-von.'

'We can't a-tell ya, boy—'cos we don't a-darned well know!' laughed Hank.

The crow's ongoing hilarity was too much to bear.

'Perhaps you can tell me this, then,' snapped Loofah, 'If this stupid government of yours is as marvellously all-knowing, all-seeing as everybody makes out, how come they seem to have missed out on this one tiny little fact?'

A massive beak cracked shut inches from his face and black-bead eye bored into him.

'Comrade Ze Seeker,' said Boris coldly, all traces of merriment abruptly vanished, 'you must not speak of ze Party in zis vay—eez zis clear?'

'Cool it, man,' said Hank, from behind, 'the boy didn't mean no harm there, did ya boy?'

'Nyet!' snapped Boris, 'I vill not "cool eet". No-von should bee calling ze Party "stupid".'

As the beaks started clashing and the squawking fury gathered momentum, Loofah slipped away, seated himself on a nearby log, and waited patiently for them to finish.

'Ya see, boy, there's some things that just cannot be a-known, not even by the constitutional government itself.'

'But of course you must not be vurrying,' added Boris, 'because you veel find her. Zis ees known for certain—vell, for almost certain, any-vay.'

This is indeed what the deer had told him, as had the little animal way back in the weird garden. Loofah sighed—there seemed to be little point in pursuing the matter.

'Pardon me for being inquisitive,' he then asked, 'But would you mind my asking if you two gentlemen are officials?'

Hank shook his head. 'Ya gotta understand somethin' about these government people, boy. You see, they ain't like us ordinary folk.'

'Hanky-Vanky and me, vee are ze citizens.'

'Ordinary, honest-to-God, law abiding citizens. Same as you'd a-meet in any Main Street and not give a second glance.'

But Loofah did give him a second glance, as he pondered the great creature wandering down the sidewalk in Hicksville, USA, perhaps popping into a drug store for a quick soda.

'I always try to be a good citizen,' he said.

'Zat, I am afraid, is not possible,' said Boris, with a laugh.

'You ain't a citizen,' explained Hank, 'Yoo's a visitor, a noo visitor. Yoo's in a class of your own.'

'Not entirely on my own. There is the one who looks like me.'

'Like I said, boy, in a class of your own.'

Loofah shivered nervously and swallowed. 'Oh, but what about the old visitors,' he said quickly, 'Aren't they the same as me?'

Hank snorted.

'Pah!' spat Boris, 'Ze old veesitors!'

'You certainly ain't the same as that l'il ol' lot, boy—and praise be for that.'

Loofah looked from one to the other. 'I don't understand. What have you got against old visitors?'

'They was a God-awful bunch of trouble, that's what,' said Hank, 'Always a-kickin' up and a-fightin'.'

'Fighting? Fighting who?'

'Any-von and every-von,' said Boris.

'But especially themselves,' said Hank.

'You mean they fought with each other?'

'Of course zey fought wiz each uzzer,' snapped Boris, 'But mostly zey fought wiz themselves—wiz zair own selves—and zis, I sink, is vary stupid.'

'I tell you, boy, things is a darned sight better round here now that there's only a handful of them critters left around. 'Cos me and Boris here, we ain't got no taste for all that a-kickin' up and a-fightin', have we Bo-Bo?'

'No, Hankie, vee certainly have not.'

'What happened to the others, then?' asked Loofah, as the two great beaks cooed lovingly against each other, 'I mean the ones who aren't around any more.'

'Oh, they never learned, boy, they never learned about the law of the land,' said Hank, 'And there's a lesson for you in that, boy, ain't there, Bo-Bo?'

'Sure is, Hankie-Vanky,' said Boris.

'You're a new visitor, so's you might a-get to thinkin' that you's kinda special.'

'Vich indeed you are.'

'But never forget that no-one's above the law, not even Mister big an' mighty The Seeker his-self.'

They both peered down at him, giving him chance to digest their sound advice.

'Oh, and one more thing,' said Hank, 'Don't ever get to be a-fightin' with yourself. I reckon that's the most important thing of all, ain't it, Boris?'

'Important, Hank, yes. But not, I sink, necessarily ze most important.'

The American stiffened and clenched his beak. 'Well, I would have to take issue with you there, Comrade,' he said quietly.