BLISS part 7 by Mike Loader and Lara Bartram ...cometouscomecomeyoumustgetupopenyoureyescome wecallyoucome... Akane's eyes snapped open, and a low whimper escaped her lips. She was on fire, she was burning up, she needed something... Slowly, gingerly, she threw off the blankets that stuck to her sweating limbs and walked over to the balcony. The cool air blew in, and the moon illuminated her nude form in a faint glow. It was out there. She had to go. It took all her willpower to stop and hastily throw on some clothes before leaving, the feverish craving singing in her veins. She supposed this must be how a drug addict would feel. Should she be worried? Probably, but she couldn't quite manage fear. There was just the awful aching that needed to be salved, and the thing that would salve it was out in the jungle. She knew it. She also knew that she really should wake Ukyo up, but... he wouldn't understand. He might try to stop her, and then she would be able to go and make the burning stop... A low moan escaped her lips. Carefully, quietly, she descended the ladder, opened the palisade gate, and carefully shut it behind her. Then, without hesitating she walked through the cleared fields and into the jungle. She knew that if the dogs caught her, as they were likely to do, they would probably kill her. She was unable to feel any fear at this. The whole thing was like a hazy dream, all except for the savage, twisting craving filling her. It wasn't hazy at all. It burned like the sun. She walked through the jungle, green on black on green, pushing aside the branches with her hands, stumbling over rocks and vines, running in a slow lope through the darkness. Howls arose from her left, then from her right. Glowing eyes like bright yellow lamps appeared in the bushes. Akane ignored them. They weren't important. Branches lashed at her form, ripping her garments, drawing blood from low scratches. She ran on, the dogs loping about her like shadows, snarling and slavering and utterly inconsequential. She dimly supposed she should be afraid of them, but there was a foggy wall wrapped around her brain that was cutting off such silly things as fear and doubt. There was only the desperate, hungry NEED that was filling her veins, inflaming her, burning... She ran, ignoring the rocks and trees, stepping right through a small river of carnivorous ants who parted for her like the red sea. They did not part for the wild dogs, and only the ones who loped almost at her heels survived. She barely heard the dying yowls of the others. Green on black on green on black, and she was almost sobbing with the need for relief. It drew her on, like a magnet to a lodestone, and she feared that her heart would burst before she got there... The temple loomed before her, and she scrambled desperately through the barren ring around it. The dogs at her heels drew to a sudden halt as she stepped through the ancient gates; they stopped, convulsed once, then fell lifeless to the eon-worn stones. She pulled to a halt in front to the statue she had seen before, admiring the beauty of it, the loveliness of the work. Then the gnawing, burning compulsion hit her with almost physical force, and with a choked wail she stumbled into the main building, into the darkened vaults, and finally came to a stop before the muck-encrusted slab. The slab door leading to the steps, the door with the loathsome sign on it. Drawing her fist back, she shattered it into a hundred pieces. Gasping with pleasure, she lurched frantically down the stairs. It was down there, what she needed to quench the terrible craving was down there... The geometry of the room was wrong, warped, but she felt oddly comfortable with it. An oily black liquid swirled around the floor, and she waded into it with a low sigh of contentment, feeling it pulse warmly and damply around her legs. And there, floating in the center of the room, was a large glassy sphere, almost delicate looking, that pulsed and shone with a hue that her fogged mind refused to identify, and yet somehow knew intimately. She needed it. That was what would stop the burning! Screaming an incoherent shriek of need, she jumped to the sphere, grabbed it, curled herself around it, pulled herself tighter and tighter against it... And, with a pop, the sphere burst like a soap bubble. The color within it suddenly was everywhere, in the walls, in the floor, in her, and a black oil began to well up from between the cracks of the walls to join the ichor she waded in... And then the haze over her mind callously left, and her emotions and reason returned, and Akane shrieked in sheer terror and ran, the black oil suddenly feeling like the foulest substance imaginable. It welled up from the pit of her stomach, like a burning acid, almost making her faint from the pain. Slowly, tendrils of it moved through her body, and she screamed, feeling something inside her twist and writhe and decay. The scream ended in a choking cough, and blood spattered across the steps as she staggered out of the oil, up, away, up... Her heart skipped one beat, then another, and a giant fist seemed to close around the inside of her chest, and a black tide swelled through her brain, sweeping her with it. She tried to scream again, and more blood gushed forth. Her vision dimmed, and she cleared the last step, and then she fell. Frantically, limbs and body spasming and flopping, she clawed at the stones, trying to pull herself a few more feet away. She knew she was dead, but she wanted to get as far away as possible from the thing before the end. Her eyes failed, and she convulsed again, hands flailing weakly at the ground. Behind her, flutes played with malignant glee. A final cry of horror tried to escape, and the resulting wet gurgle was the last sound she heard before her ears shut down. She felt rather than saw the blood flowing up from her throat, and hoped Ukyo would be all right. And then there was nothing. *** Ukyo woke, and immediately realized something was wrong. He sat up in bed, and his mind registered the unfamiliar absence next to him. "Akane?" No response. Alarmed, he lit a lamp and peered out into the stockade. "Akane? Are you out there?" Silence, except for the normal sounds of the jungle at night. Swiftly descending the ladder, he checked all of the outbuildings, knowing exactly what he would find. Nothing. Akane was out in the middle of the jungle, alone, without having informed him first. They _never_ did that, not even during the day. That was the rule, you always told the other person where you were going to be hunting, just in case... So was it an emergency? What sort of trouble, though, would prevent her from waking the person sleeping an inch away? And then he remembered Akane standing on the balcony at midnight, eyes glazed. Akane complaining of odd dreams and nightmares. Akane absently sketching the temple... The temple... A cold, prickling feeling began to work its way along Ukyo's spine. He returned to the main house, grabbed his fighting stick and a torch, and ran out into the jungle night. Akane was easily a match for several dogs when awake. Asleep, though, or at least partly asleep... he wasn't sure what had happened, but all of his guesses involved a helpless Akane lurching blindly through a predator-infested wilderness to a place that practically radiated evil. No wild dogs appeared to contest his passage. The night was unnaturally silent, which frightened him even more. By now he should have been attacked at least once, night birds should be cooing, things should be scampering out of his path... Instead, there was just the swaying of the branches and vines in the low breeze, and the sound of his running feet against the rocks and dirt. He entered the blasted ring of vegetation surrounding the temple, and his heart skipped a beat. There, lying under the entry arch, were several shadows that were unmistakably bodies. Running forward, he let out a sigh of relief. All of them were the corpses of dogs, the dead eyes staring at the moon, tongues lolling out of mouths filled with dying gore. Akane had at least made it this far, then, and no animal ever came in here... so she was probably safe, right? No, he suddenly realized with a terrible certainty. There was a reason the animals didn't come in here, and Akane would probably be safer out in the jungle. Or in the caves of Canis Mountain, for that matter. Trying to fight down the growing fear, he strode swiftly into the main building, shuddering as he passed the hideous statue. It seemed to leer at him in the pale moonlight, the eyes glowing with reflected radiance. He broke into a run, past the fountain, through the vaulted doorways, down towards the crypt that they had almost opened... And there, by the shattered remains of the carved, muck- encrusted stone slab, lay Akane. "Akane?" he said softly, suddenly very afraid. She lay still, a slender, crumpled figure in the darkness of the vault. He dashed to her side, crouching down by her, a sick feeling building in his stomach. "Akane... Akane, wake up... Oh, God...." Dark blood spattered the front of her shirt, her neck, her face. She was very pale, and very still. Numbly, he began to reach for her wrist to check for a pulse, and then she convulsed, flopping on the bloody stones like a landed fish, twisting and writhing. And then she went slack again, a new trickle of blood and bile oozing from a corner of her mouth. From the vault, a dim whistle of flutes came, and he thought he saw a glimpse of something moving up the steps. Ukyo's mind quickly summarized the situation. If I stay here, I will die. If I move Akane, she may die. If Akane stays here, she will die. Without hesitating, he scooped up the frighteningly light body of his love, gritted his teeth, and ran out of the vault. The fountain spewed a foul black oil as he dashed passed it, the odor sickening. He ran, and did not slow his pace until he has passed the gate and was safely out of the barren zone. Moving as fast as he dared, he gently carried her back to the house, loping through the jungle in a half-run. Even if it weren't for the wild dogs, he didn't think that staying in the shadow of the ruins would be a good idea. He ran, and prayed to any power that might be listening that the move would not kill her. Akane lay still in his arms, her breathing like a rusty knife being slipped in and out of its sheath; slow, uneven, barely audible. Her face was horribly pale in the moonlight, an unhealthy pasty white. Now and then a violent spasm twisted through her, sending her flopping in his grip; then, as fast as it had come, it would stop, and again she would hang limp against his shoulder, and the sound of breathing tore in and out... The run seemed to take forever, and twice he drew to a panicked stop, unable to hear her lungs working. But then he would catch a whisper of ragged breath, and he would run on, a terrible fear in the pit of his stomach. Finally, like a beacon in the night, the camp loomed out of the darkness. Dashing through the gate and securing it, Ukyo slowly ascended the trunk ladder and laid her tenderly on their pallet. Nabiki began to cry from her cradle as he lit the lamp with his flint, and moved to kneel by Akane. Carefully, terrified by the pallor he saw in the flickering light, he stripped away her clothes and began to search every inch of her for a puncture or welt. He found nothing the first time, nor the second. On the third attempt he even ran his fingers through the close-cropped hair, trying to find a bump or swollen patch. Still nothing. She didn't appear to be bitten or stung. He swore quietly under his breath. Akane wouldn't have eaten anything untrustworthy; she was smarter than that. And it wasn't just sickness. He was sure it was no coincidence that he had found her at those steps. Another spasm rippled through Akane, almost throwing her off the pallet. Then another. And another, even as he grabbed her shoulders to keep her from spilling onto the floor. And then a hideous gasp came from her throat, sending Nabiki into a frenzy of wailing. She convulsed once more, and stopped breathing. "No..." he moaned, grabbing her face, "No, Akane, please... don't, please...' ...classman, are you listening? Put your mouth to the dummy's and blow... Knowledge flooded into him in a burst, and he put his lips to her cold, ashen ones and desperately performed CPR. He blew into the silent lungs as Nabiki screamed, and sobbed as he did so, crying for the first time in his briefly remembered existence. It wasn't going to work. And then her lungs heaved, and a choked breath escaped, and she began to gag. Swiftly he grabbed their crude clay bowl and tilted her head, placing the container under her mouth. Akane spasmed, and then an oily black liquid spewed from her mouth, splattering against the bowl. The odor hit Ukyo like a blow, and for a few seconds he was afraid he would pass out. As soon as the vomiting ceased, he hurriedly laid her back down on the pallet, dashed onto the balcony ledge, and hurled the bowl over the edge of the stockade. A few spatters of it had fallen to the floor, and he grabbed a leaf from their sanitary supplies to mop it up. He had never seen anything like it... almost like tar or petroleum, slowly eating at the boards where it had fallen, and the stench of it... Once the floor had been wiped, he poured a gourd of water and bathed Akane's face. The rasp of her breathing was painful to listen to, and she lay very still. Nabiki's wails had died down, to be replaced by a low, frightened whimpering. He felt like doing the same. She looked so fragile now, and she had always been so strong... "I love you," he whispered brokenly. "Please don't die. I love you..." The only answer was the slow rise and fall of her chest. Ukyo pulled a chair up beside the bed, sat down, and waited. He had never felt quite as scared, or as helpless. Twice more that night her lungs stopped. Twice more he put his lips to hers, each time sure that it would not work and that she would die. But instead her breathing would resume, and he would slump back into his chair and sob in terror and relief. Morning came, the light streaming through the windows harsh against his reddened eyes, and what he saw frightened him even more. Akane's skin was a pale, puffy, grub-white hue. Her hair was in matted strands, and her fingernails had turned a deep blackish- blue. If it weren't for the slow, unsteady rise and fall of her chest, he would have judged her dead. As the heat of the day rose, she began to sweat, and a new horror appeared. He watched, fascinated, as inky black drops beaded on her skin, peaked, and ran down her body in a stained trail. A horrible odor began to fill the tiny hut. He carefully wiped away the liquid, making sure not to directly touch it with his hands. From time to time he forced a little water into her mouth, and she would reflexively swallow it. Little Nabiki watched from her crib, wide-eyed, not making a sound. Around afternoon Akane went into another fit of convulsions, and it took all of Ukyo's strength to hold her to the bed. Her eyes shot open, she gave a hoarse, strangled scream, and then began to gag and choke. He barely got the empty skin to her mouth in time. After filling the vessel with another load of oily, viscous discharge, she sank back into unconsciousness, breathing slow and shallow. That night, he forced a little bit of plantain soup down her throat, and ate a little himself. The smell in the hut was getting unbearable; if he dared, Ukyo would have moved Akane and himself to the old house in the yard. But he didn't want to move her unless he had to. Her lungs stopped for a fourth time towards morning, and this time upon recovering she coughed, heaved, and brought up a ball of material as big as his fist, an unwholesome mass of green and gray and black that looked like watery clay. He had gagged at the stench, and almost fainted as he threw it over the palisade. Akane was semi-awake when he staggered back in, and a hand clutched at him with blackened fingers. "Ukyo... help, help me... that thing..." "You're going to be all right," he lied soothingly, not knowing what was going to happen. She would die, or she wouldn't. "Help me..." she whimpered, terror and agony in her voice, and then she sank back into sleep, her nude body a pale white against the brown reeds of their pallet. Ukyo took Nabiki, who had begun to cry, and walked out onto the balcony of the hut. He stood for a while, and bounced her up and down in his arms, and finally she giggled at him and began to tug at his shirt with a tiny hand. He held his daughter, and stared at the setting sun, and watched the trees sway back and forth in the breeze. It was very beautiful. The next morning, Ukyo found the first of the lesions. It was on her left side, between her breast and her hip, and it was the color of a bruise, all purple and blue and scabby red, and it wept a black oil. He cleaned it, and rubbed ash and palm wine in it to stave off infection. That was all he could do. He discovered another one at noon, on her buttock, and then another one behind her right shoulder, and then one in the small of her back, and then one on her cheek... By the fourth day, the unnatural paleness was pocked with the purple-red sores, all oozing the black, tarlike fluid. He washed and cleaned then all, doing his best not to actually get any on his skin. If he contracted whatever it was, they were both dead. And then Nabiki would starve to death in her crib, and that would be the end of everything that had ever mattered to him. He no longer cried. He was too numb to cry. The hours passed mechanically, cleaning, forcing soup down her throat, wiping the loathsome oily fluid from her body. It hurt to look at her. His Akane, his life, his beautiful, fiery, wonderful goddess on earth, a thing of grace and strength and life. Lying on the clean pallet where they had made love so many times, now stained and filthy and sticky with bile, writhing and convulsing, the beautiful, strong body chalk-pale and covered with weeping sores... The fourth day came and went, and now he was only waiting for her to die. "I'm a coward, Nabiki," he told his daughter that night. "I should just release her from this. But I can't, I can't..." He had cried again, and this had made little Nabiki cry, and again he had walked up and down the balcony with her until her sobs turned into contented sighs. On the fifth day Akane vomited, and his saw to his mixed apprehension and relief that the substance that came up was not black, but merely plantain soup and stomach acids. The sores continued to leak the oily fluid, and the drops of sweat that beaded on her still resembled ink, but no more of the liquid was vomited up. That night she awoke for a short time and asked weakly for water. He gave it to her in measured sips, and spooned almost half a gourd of soup into her. She gulped in down, smiled wanly at him, and then slipped back into sleep. The remainder of the night passed without the usual convulsions, and on the morning of the sixth day the sun revealed that some of the lesions were shrinking in size. Again he sobbed like a baby, this time in thanks and hope and desperate relief. At noon, her eyes slowly opened, and moved to gaze unsteadily at him. "Ukyo-chan..." He was at her side immediately, trying to hide the fear and anxiety and stress in his face. "I'm here, Akane-chan. It's okay." "God, I feel awful..." "You're going to be okay." He thought that was the truth, now, and he spoke with a firm conviction. "You're past the worst of it. You'll be okay now." "I went down, and there... was something, and it opened, and the color, it was all wrong..." An edge of hysteria entered her voice, and he stroked her matted hair and made calming noises. "It's okay. You're home now, and you're going to get better." "Ukyo, I'm scared, Ukyo..." Akane coughed, and he brought over a gourd of water for her to sip. "Oh God, I feel so awful..." "I thought you were going to die," he told her, hoping honesty would help comfort her. "You were very sick." "But now I'm fine," she joked weakly, and he laughed and gently hugged her. She drank almost a full gourd of soup, and then slept. Her rest was relatively peaceful, and by the when the sun of the seventh day rose, the sweat that beaded upon her brow and stomach and breasts and legs was a clear, translucent, normal sheen. *** Ukyo walked swiftly along the game path. It was the ninth day. Akane was awake now, much of the time. She still slept most of the day, but that was to be expected. She was still very weak, and needed all the rest she could get. But she was getting well, and that was all that mattered. The lesions had closed, and were now just black and purple bumps. She was eating like a horse, and drinking even more than she ate. No, Akane was definitely on the mend, and he felt it was safe to leave her alone for an hour or two while he went to replenish their supplies. They were running very low, and he had to get the soft foods that Nabiki would be able to eat. In light of the black oil that had emerged from Akane's pores, he thought it wise that their daughter not breast-feed for a few weeks. Ukyo had already gathered a large bundle of plantains, which he had carried back to the stockade. Now all he needed was a few coconuts and some meat... Monkey, pig, or wild dog. Wild dog seemed to be the most common, possibly because they didn't try to avoid him. Far from it. Still, you didn't see them much in the daytime... Whistling a little, he trotted up the last hill before the coconut grove. Thank God Akane was better, he thought, and whatever it was, let it please not come again... He crested the hill, stared down at the grove, and stopped dead. The trees. For as far in front of him as he could see, the trees were a charcoal black, their trunks twisted and warped into hideous parodies of normal limbs, the branches clawing at the sky like fingers of a corpse. A light pattering, like a distant rain, reached his ears... he unwillingly looked closer, and saw the green-black sap dripping from the branches and twisted leaves to spatter on the ground... He could make out the coconut grove. Bloated globes of a milky green-yellow substance hung from it, and as he watched one fell from the blackened bough to squelch against the ground. A white pus oozed from it, and he watched in horror as grublike forms wriggled out, squirming away through the putrid fluid... On the nearest of the corrupted trees sat a monkey, eyes festering holes leaking a black oil, dead mouth open in a silent scream. The branch it sat on was already beginning to sent probing roots into the corpse. But it was the leaves, the twisted, curling leaves that caught his gaze and made him unable to look away. They were not purple, or green, or black, or yellow... they were a color, but he couldn't find a name for it, and it was wrong and an abomination... The wind shifted towards him, bearing the smell of it, and he turned away and vomited. After retching for almost a minute, Ukyo turned and ran for Akane and home. He needed to find out what had done this before it killed them all. *** "What?" Akane stared at him through reddened eyes. Ukyo nodded wearily. "Everything below the hill was like that. The smell, the look of it... whatever it is, it's the same thing you had." He looked at her, and shuddered; her skin was returning to its normal color, and the blotches were fading, but she still looked like the living dead. "Akane-chan, I need to know what's going on." She shook her head numbly. "I don't know." He sighed. "Can't you at least tell me what happened to you?" "I don't remember very much," she said hesitantly, a tinge of fear entering her voice. "I was dreaming, but I was awake, and a voice called me... I had to follow it, and it led me to the ruins, and down the steps, and through the halls, and then there was a room..." She shuddered, and stopped, staring at him helplessly. "Please, Akane-chan," he said as gently as he could. "You need to tell me." "There was a seal, and I broke it, and the color... it was in the walls and the floor and everywhere and I woke up and ran, but it had me and I started up the steps..." She grabbed his arm, the grip almost painful. "The color. It was..." "Wrong," he finished grimly. "It wasn't right. You didn't know what it was." Akane slowly nodded. "It's in the leaves. They're all that color." "Ukyo..." she said, eyes widening, "the ruins. The ruins are past the coconut grove." She was right, he realized. "It must be spreading outward, although the coconut grove is a long way from..." His eyes widened in horror. "I'll be right back," he said frantically, pulling on his sandals and desperately hoping he was wrong. Before Akane could reply, he was sliding down the treetrunk and darting out of the stockade. He ran, and ran, and prayed that he was wrong. And then he came to the hill, and pulled to a stop, and wondered what the hell they were going to do. Because the corruption, which on his last visit was only at the base of the hill, was now halfway up it. It was spreading. It was spreading quickly. The leaves rustled in the tepid breeze, glittering mockingly with a color that no human being had ever put a name to. *** The next few days were spent in a frenzy of preparation. Akane was still very sick. While the traces of the lesions were slowly fading, she was unable to rise unassisted from the pallet. Despite eating over twice the normal amount of food per day, she remained very weak and slept away most of the day and all of the night. Ukyo hunted and harvested and prepared stocks of food. It wasn't difficult, because the blight was driving the animals towards them, into the yet-untainted parts of the island. Pigs, monkeys, birds... The wild dogs... Canis Mountain lay far in the middle of the corrupted area, and without their cool, deep caves to lair in the dogs were swarming about the area. Twice during the day he was attacked by small, desperate packs of them, and it was only through a combination of luck and skill and desperation that he had fought them off. They fought with a savage hunger in their bellies. He fought knowing that Akane and little Nabiki would die if he was gone. He won. And the blight creeped on. It swallowed the outermost plantain grove. It swallowed the pillar of flint. It swallowed the waterfall where they had frolicked two years ago, each aroused by the body of the other. The plantains turned black and scarlet and wept green pus. The pillar jutted from a clearing of slimy purple grass, seeming to revel in the desolation around it. The cool, shady bowers that had graced the waterfall became blackened corpses twisting in upon themselves, but the waters still flowed unpolluted. The leaves on its banks had turned that indescribable, ghastly hue... but water is colorless, and remains so. The falls still poured down pure water. So it was with the river. No foulness marred the flow of it, although once in a while a twisted, leprous branch would float downstream. Water was beyond its power. Ukyo watched the spread with a sick feeling in his heart. Watched it eat the closer groves. Watched it eat the 'dojo' clearing where they practiced. Watched it eat spots where he had sat with Akane and talked, or where he had hunted, or where he had shown his daughter something beautiful, or where he had made love to his lady. He watched them crumple into obscene caricatures of black trunks and diseased sap and leaves of vile, unnatural color. Days past, and he prayed that the blight would come to a halt. But instead it advanced all the faster. He knew, finally, what needed to be done, and told Akane. She agreed, and then wept, and so did he. It would very probably kill them all. *** "It is time." Akane glanced over at Ukyo, nodded, and laboriously stood. She still felt like hell. Sometimes she wondered if the Color had shattered her health forever. She had been able to break stone with her hands, and now she was weak... so very weak... Her jaw firmed. She would be strong, today. She needed to be. Little Nabiki was lifted from her cradle by her... husband? In every way that mattered, she supposed. He gently placed their crying daughter into the back harness slung over her shoulder, and picked up his fighting stick. "Are you ready?" She looked at the bed, at the painstakingly molded clay lamp, at the crib dyed with bright pigments. The rug Ukyo had spent a month weaving. The shelves and drinking gourds and crude bowls. Her home. "I'm ready." Slowly, carefully, they descended the ladder for the last time, and walked past the first hut and past the now empty storage sheds, smokehouse, and tanning hut. At the gate of the palisade, she stopped suddenly. "Shh. Listen!" Ukyo froze, and she knew he heard it too. A low panting, a shifting of paws. Just behind the gate. She quietly swore. The damn things somehow knew. The farthest tree in sight shone with a color that had no name. "Ukyo, we need to get out," she said grimly. "We only have a few hours, if that." He nodded, still staring at the closed gate. "I know. Perhaps if we wait..." "More will arrive. No. They hate us, Ukyo." "So what can we do?" he said plaintively. "I can fight my way through, but you..." She took a deep breath, unhooked Nabiki's harness, and handed it to him. He stared at it in shock. "No... no, I shall not permit..." ...i shall not permit it!... She brushed away the nausea and memory. "I can fight. I'm not in top form, but I can fight." She gazed at him pleadingly. "If I fall, at least Nabiki will be safe with you. But I don't plan on falling." She grinned at him, purposefully making it cocky and careless. "I didn't fight off that icky stuff just to be puppy chow, okay? But no sense taking chances, and I'll fight better without Nabichan on my back weighing me down." Ukyo looked at her, looked at his daughter, and took the harness. He carefully buckled it around the highest part of his back, took a deep breath, and glanced at Akane. "Ready?" "Yeah... wait, hold on!" She walked swiftly into one of the storage sheds, emerging with two large torches dabbed at the end with flammable tar. "Light these, okay?" He complied, pulling the flint out of his belt to ignite them, and she smiled. She didn't think she was going to make it. She was sure Ukyo and Nabiki would. It was enough. "Okay. Ready." Her heart began to race, and adrenaline began to wash away the fear. It was time to fight. He kissed her fiercely. Then, with a roar, he kicked open the gate and charged out, fighting stick moving too fast for the eye to follow. With a cry, she jumped after him. The dogs leapt to meet them, springing from all sides. Ukyo's stick neatly sliced one in half, moving rapidly downwards to send another cur flying with bonecrushing force into the outer wall. He ran as he fought, and she followed. A wild dog sprang for her throat, jaws snapping, and Akane shoved the burning brand into its skull with enough force to crack the bone. Another leapt at her from the side, and she was barely able to take it in the throat with a spinning kick. She could feel the illness still within her, sapping her strength, her speed... Onward. The river wasn't far from the gate, they just had to make it to the river, it wasn't far.... The maelstrom of jaws and fangs and fur and slathering teeth swirled about her, and she kicked and thrust and chopped and punched. A torch snapped off in the chest of a large, brown and black dog, and she switched to a one-weapon form. Ahead of her, Ukyo's stick rose and fell in graceful, deadly arcs. A huge dog ran at her, and she almost gagged. The face was half gone, one eye socket a mass of festering black ooze with a rancid, shriveled eyeball the color of the obscene leaves... Panicked, she clubbed it down, forgetting the others, and then she screamed in agony as a set of jaws clamped shut on her shoulder. She broke its neck with a quick throw, but another leapt on her back and she stumbled forward, hand frantically moving to keep the fangs away from her neck. Sensing a kill, two others closed in on her... Ukyo's fighting stick whistled past, knocking the dog off her back. Akane lunged forward, killing the other two with savage blows to the throat and head, and stumbled onward. And then they were at the river. Akane jumped for the canoe, landing with a clumsy thud on her back in it. The sky turned dark, and suddenly a mass of fur and teeth and rabid yellow eyes landed on top of her. Fangs lunged for her throat. Weakly, she thrust her arm up to block, and the slavering maw stopped inches away from her chin. Claws scrabbled on her chest for purchase, sending white hot lines of pain down her side as the hot, fetid breath nearly gagged her... ...guri... Screaming, using the last of her strength, she slammed her fist into the furry chest again and again until the ribs snapped like twigs and the internal organs broke with sickening splats. The yellow fire behind the eyes dimmed, and Akane felt the telltale thud as Ukyo jumped into the canoe and pushed off. She dimly heard his voice cry her name, somewhere in the distance, and then everything was black. *** Akane awoke in the bottom of the canoe, with the gentle murmur of the water in her ears. "I thought for a second that it had killed you." Painfully, she eased herself into a sitting position. The bite on her shoulder had a crude bandage wrapped around it, damp and reeking of palm wine. "I thought so too. It nearly had me, for a second." Ukyo smiled slightly, and she noticed a similar bandage on his left leg. "We killed over a dozen of them, I think. They won't be as eager to attack for a few days." Akane shook her head. "They're desperate, Ukyo-chan. They can sense that it's the end of it all, and they just want to kill as much as they can beforehand. Especially us." She shuddered, again feeling the teeth ripping into her flesh. "We'd better build a small fence to sleep in before we work on enlarging the raft." He shook his head. "There isn't enough time. We have maybe a week before it reaches the shore. I think it's speeding up." With a low sigh, he looked into the bottom of the boat. "I saw it overtake the stockade, and some of the injured wild dogs. It... was not pleasant." Tears rose in her eyes at the thought of her home, the home she had built... No. She thrust it away; there was no time for it. "Maybe the mainland is just over the horizon. Or another island." "Maybe." Neither of them believed it. They paddled on in silence. Up ahead came the roar of the surf against the rocks. *** The fishing raft was big enough to seat one person in comfort, and lie buried safely beneath a cairn of rocks on the beach. From time to time Akane - or, more rarely, Ukyo - had hauled it out and cruised along the shore, fishing line trailing. It was not really necessary, but ocean fish made a pleasant change of diet once in a while. The raft was once again unearthed, but this time it wasn't for a luxury item. This time their lives would depend on it. Working as fast as possible, Ukyo felled trees with his fighting stick and dragged the trunks down to the raft. There, Akane carefully used the stone cutting tools and the flat of her hand to shape them into new boards. These were then built into a new hull around the old core, more than doubling its size. Hemp rope and tarlike sap secured the frame in place, and wooden spikes liberally smeared with natural adhesives provided the flexible joints of the middle structure. A precious day was spent erecting a crude mast, with several sewed skins forming a sail. They constructed a rail around the edge, more to keep water out than for anything else, and secured the all-important water barrels to the middle of the raft with rope and a wooden frame. A tiny shelter was built of poles and rope in the forward- center of the raft, and salvaged rugs of woven hemp were used as the upper walls and ceiling. The rough, uneven weave would allow some heat to escape during the hot daylight hours, and could be drenched with seawater for additional cooling properties. Hide blankets, tanned to a point where they were nearly waterproof, were placed inside against the possibility of cold nights. And as they worked, the Color spread its chromatic death across the island, devouring plants and animals and soil, the twisted, unholy leaves shining malignantly in the tropical sun. The wild dogs made sporadic attacks, in scattered, fear- crazed groups. Akane and Ukyo killed the first, smaller ones. When larger groups congregated, they pushed the raft into the ocean and sailed down the shoreline to a different worksite. And then the day came when the sky became a cascade of colors; green and red and blue and yellow and pink. The birds of the island, parrots and toucans and songbirds, were flying out to sea, into the ocean. They wouldn't get very far; they weren't designed to fly long distances. But their instinctual knowledge of their limitations was outweighed and drowned by the onrushing tide of death and corruption, and so they flew out into the horizon, passing over Akane and Ukyo in a feathered rainbow as they fled. Behind them, the obscene Color writhed among black, twisted trees, loping steadily towards the beach. They pushed the raft, laden with supplies, into the waves and began to row. Behind them, the remaining animals of the isle burst from the jungle and ran into the sea. For a time they swam, forming a howling, shrieking, splashing wake in the rear of the tiny vessel. Then, one by one, the furry heads and backs slipped beneath the water and vanished. The corruption reached the shore and stopped, its limit reached. A crash of the waves cleansed the beach, a surge of rot and decay befouled it again. The tide counterattacked, and again the sand was clean and white. Ukyo and Akane watched for a time, and then turned their faces away. It was over. *** They sailed into an unknown sea. They had no home port. They knew nothing of stars or constellations or latitudes. Their map was the vague assumption that land existed on the planet aside from their island. So they drifted, the hide sail flapping listlessly in the hot air, and told each other that land was ahead. It had to be. Food wasn't a problem. They had stored plenty of it; both soft foods for Nabiki and protein-laden meats for each of them. With a bit of chewing on their part, too, anything could become a soft food. Fish existed, and Akane was able to catch several. These they ate raw, for nutrients now could not be sacrificed for flavor. Fire on the raft was a risky proposition anyway. A day out they floated through a band of multicolored, sodden feathers, and Ukyo cried. It was water that was now their problem, and they rationed it severely. Nabiki had as much as each of them. They didn't have much. To minimize the need for hydration, they tried to stay inside the shelter as much as possible during the day. Days passed, and the water was a sheet of glass. Once Akane pointed downwards in great excitement, and they peered into the suddenly transparent water to glimpse the crumbling green spires of a city. The architecture was strange and angular, as if built to a geometry of unfamiliar kind, and neither of them liked the statues that lined the sunken boulevards and terraces. The weed-wreathed faces smiled back at them maliciously, and then they were past, and the ocean's murk descended once more. Days, and days, and days, and the wind was a tepid breeze and the sun was a dull ball of orange in the sky. They told each other stories, and sang to Nabiki, and speculated about the place their raft would eventually make landfall at. "Where would you like to wind up, Ukyo-chan?" He rubbed his chin. "I think I would like to be in Japan. Nabiki could go to a real school... I remember that the Japanese have the best schools in the world." Akane leaned her head against his shoulder. "What would we do there?" "I don't know. Learn who we are, I suppose." "I think I'd like to wind up in China. Or on another island." She smiled at him, and he stroked her hair fondly. "I don't care who I was anymore. They're dead and gone, and now there's only me and you and Nabiki. And that's how I like it." Ukyo pulled her close, and they watched the nameless stars wheel and dance over the sea. It rained once, and they were caught between gratefulness for the extra water and fear of a real storm, for they knew that the little raft would never be able to ride out a spell of rough weather. But the ocean stayed as smooth as a rock, and after four minutes the rain melted away. Days, and days, and days. They made love once, little Nabiki tucked safely out of sight in the shelter. "Please. Once more." "We can't. You know we have to save our..." "Please. If we reach land it won't matter, and if we don't... it still won't matter. Just once more." "All right." It was done with a sort of desperate pleasure, each one knowing that it would very likely be the last time. Afterwards they held each other, and did not speak. Days, and days, and days, and now the water was almost gone from the barrels. The desert of the ocean stretched from horizon to horizon, and the sun burned in the sky. They saw a dolphin, once, swimming near them. It grinned at them in a cocky, mocking fashion, and dove. They did not see it reappear. The fish vanished, and the food ran low. Now there were no waves, and the water was as still as a millpond, and the tattered sail hung limp. Days, and days, and then there was no more fresh water. They gave the last few swallows to little Nabiki, waited for a day, and then knew that it was over. Finally, Ukyo turned to Akane, and embraced her. "It was a good try," she whispered, and lay down inside the shelter. He lowered himself down beside her, and Nabiki squirmed in between them, giggling. "I love you." "I know." They held each other, and soon Nabiki fell asleep, and finally the fatigue and lack of water rolled over them like a wave and they sank beneath it, together. *** Log of the Wakazashi Maru, 5/23/98 46 days out of Innsmouth, Mass., USA, spotted small raft adrift off the starboard bow at latitude 32 longitude 180. Second Mate Jiro Abe boarded the raft in a motor launch with two seamen. He discovered two young adults of apparently Japanese ancestry, both badly dehydrated and in a stupor, and one infant, in good health. Abe immediately transferred all three to sick bay, and I have ordered watches posted for more rafts. The materials used in construction of the craft do not appear to be from a wreck, and I admit to being perplexed by this discovery. A call to the Registry in Osaka confirmed that no ships have been recently lost in these waters. Doctor Winchester assures me that, given time and rest, both of the adults will survive. He hopes to see then awake and lucid by tomorrow. Log of the Wakazashi Maru, 5/24/98 More mysteries. The two young people identify themselves as Akane and Ukyo, no last names, and claim to have been fleeing an island there they had been stranded for two years. They further claim to have no memory of their lives before this wreck, citing amnesia. This is a patently ridiculous story, since there are no islands aside from Midway within any reasonable distance. Furthermore, a unusually large storm swept through this area four days ago, which would have certainly sunk their tiny raft. However, the browning of their skin and signs of exposure to the elements are evidence of an island existence. So is the construction of their raft, and each bears healing puncture wounds, which they attribute to wild dogs. Dr. Winchester confirms the bites as canine. The baby is healthy, the adults are confused but otherwise in sound mental health. We shall reach Japan within a few days, and perhaps there fingerprint or dental records will allow us to identify the two beyond a first name. Since neither appears to speak English, I shall assume them to be Japanese citizens. *** The phone rang. And, with a slight sigh of irritation, Akane Tendo put down her college application, walked across the kitchen. and picked it up. "Hello, Tendo residence." She listened for a few seconds, and then her face turned pale and her hand tightened alarmingly around the receiver, almost cracking the plastic. She wasn't going to cry, she firmly told herself. She had put this behind her a year ago, and she was now able to visit Ukyo's grave with regretful sadness instead of almost suicidal grief. One day she would be able to visit Ranma's monument in the same manner. "I'm sorry," she replied in a cool, controlled voice. "He died a little over two years ago, and..." She listened for another few seconds, and then her world turned upside down. The plastic of the receiver gave way slightly. "Y-you... it's a mistake... he died two... I mean, they never found the body, but, but... Wait! With who? Where!" Dizzy, sick with a desperate hope and with the fear that it was all a sadistic mistake, she calmly asked for and got an address. And the second she got it, she abandoned all pretensions of calm and dropped the phone and ran for the door. Kasumi, who was just entering the house with the groceries, was extremely surprised to have her younger sister physically shove her out of the way and nearly trample her on the way out the gate. Nabiki entered the house a few seconds later, bearing on her face an extremely pissed expression and a red mark reading 'NIKE'. Five minutes later she ran down a moving taxi, shoved money at the driver, and asked him to take her to the Tokyo Bay Immigration and Naturalization Centre. The terrified driver complied. He wasn't used to passengers ripping the door off instead of taking the trouble to actually open it. They were briefly held up in traffic. Akane got out, removed the offending cars to places on the sidewalk, and ordered the driver onward. They arrived at the Centre. The driver noticed with mixed relief and amazement that the crazy woman didn't wait for the cab to stop before getting out. After all, as he somewhat hysterically told his friends in a bar that night, the car had slowed to a mere 25 miles per hour... Akane picked herself up, brushed herself off, and ran into the Centre. She didn't bother opening the doors. And so a very startled official in the medical office found herself speaking to an 18-year-old woman who looked as if she had just come from a war zone. "Can I help..." "Where's Ranma?" "Excuse...?" "You called and told me you had found Ranma..." The official, seeing the girl on the verge of tears, ushered her to a seat and checked the computer. The wanted information quickly was found. "Ranma Saotome. Rescued by a Japanese freighter in the Pacific along with..." "I know. How is he? When can I see him?" "According to the medical report, he's suffering from amnesia. They only identified him via dental records. Are you his sister?" "Fiancee. Can I see him? Please?" The official shrugged. "If you're his fiancee, certainly. And good luck. Down that hall, fifth room to your left." The girl had already torn out of the office by the time the official looked more closely at the file and noticed something odd. Akane ran down the hall as if in a dream, hope and fear and desperation raging within her. It would be a mistake. She would open the door and it would be someone else, just an error in the records, haha, and Ranma would still be dead. After all, how on earth would he come to be in the middle of the Pacific Ocean... but still, there had never been a body... no body, just a charred shred of Chinese shirt and the end of a pigtail... She raced toward the door, hesitated in an agony of fear and anxiety, and then threw it open. And then she screamed with joy, because Ranma was there. Older, browned by the sun, hair trimmed into a short, ragged cut, dressed in obviously loaned shipboard clothing. But it was Ranma, alive. Akane crossed the distance between then in seconds and flung her arms around the shorter girl, sobbing with relief. "Oh God, Ranma, I though you were dead... we all thought you were dead... where have you been, I thought you were dead..." Ranma stood, awkward, clearly unsure and timid. "I'm... I'm sorry, who are you? I lost my memory..." "It's me. It's Akane." To her surprise, Ranma flinched. "No, I'm Akane..." "You're Ranma." A stab of fear ran through her with horrible suddenness. "You're Ranma. My fiancee." The other girl laughed awkwardly, looking increasingly nervous and tense. "No... no, I'm Akane... I'm not Ranma... we can't be... we're both girls, so that's impossible. Don't you see?" The door opened behind her, and someone else she hadn't expected to ever see again stepped in. Holding a baby. "I found some formula and diapers..." She couldn't speak. She couldn't breathe. Dimly, as if in a fog, she turned to Ranma and heard herself ask if the child was his. She didn't understand the answer, only that it was yes. It was their child. She heard herself scream, felt herself grab the other girl, heard herself scream that no, he was a man, he couldn't have. He was Ranma, not Akane. He would never have done it. The eyes that looked back at her held confusion, and pain, and obviously didn't know what she was talking about. "NO!" she screamed, backing away. "RANMA! HOW!" "I'm not Ranma!" the other girl screamed. "I'm Akane! I'm not Ranma Saotome! He's dead! He deserved to die! He's dead!" And then she stopped, aghast as that she had just said. Akane pushed her way past Kuno, who stood in baffled concern holding the baby, and ran, and ran, and ran. It was all some obscene delusion. First it was her dream come true, now it was a nightmare. Ranma would never have done that with Kuno. Never. He would have died first. She finally stopped running and sank to her knees, shrieking in pain and fury. How? How could he do this to her? How could he do this to himself? She sobbed, and screamed, and put her fist through the wall. And then, slowly, rational thought re-exerted itself. He had lost his memory. How easy it must have been. It would have been like a dream come true for Kuno, wherever it was that they had wound up. Just him, and a helpless, female Ranma with no memories, and no-one to stop him. The bastard. He couldn't have taken her by force; not Ranma Saotome. So instead he just told her she was a woman. Akane. He had finally gotten both of his two 'loves'. God, she thought, horrified. It could have been me. That could have been my baby, could have been me as Kuno's little concubine. But instead it was Ranma, which was even worse, and she silently wished that she could trade places with him. Because at least she was really a woman. So now she had two choices. She could either go home, knowing that at least Ranma was alive, and get on with her life. Or she could try to cure Ranma, try to bring him back. If it could even be done. What would Ranma have done, she asked herself, if that had been me in there? Answer: he would have done everything humanly possible to free her. She could do no less. A whistling noise caused her to raise her head, and she nodded slowly when she saw its origin. It had brought him out of the Neko-ken. Perhaps it would work here, as well. Taking the office teakettle from its hotplate, she slowly marched back into the room. The sight that greeted her - Ranma holding Kuno's hand, smiling somewhat girlishly at him - almost made her run again. Instead, it only renewed her determination. "Ranma," she said quietly. "You are Ranma. Come back." The girl blanched. "No... no, I'm Akane..." She advanced slowly, the kettle of hot water held tightly in one hand. "You're Ranma Saotome. You know that. Deep inside, you know." "I'm not..." Ranma whispered, staring at her in terror. "Ukyo..." "You're frightening her," Kuno said, a hint of anger in his voice. She fought down the rising fury. That sick bastard. "Ranma. Look at me. Remember." She lifted the kettle, and Ranma recoiled in fear. "No... no, get it away... no..." "It's just hot water, Ranma." A calm engulfed her. "You know, somewhere inside you, what hot water does. It restores." "NO!" shrieked Ranma, and Kuno rose threateningly, and Akane swung the kettle towards them in a wide arc. Hot water drenched them, and Ranma's form shifted. And he screamed. *** It had been another search for a cure. He had stolen the idol, and incanted the words, and hoped that maybe, just maybe, it would work and he wouldn't turn into a girl anymore with cold water. Oh, it had worked. It had worked in that it ripped open a hole in the fabric of reality, through which had hopped a titanic, semi-living obscenity that should never have existed. They had all fought it, the best martial artists of their generation in Tokyo. They had done this sort of thing before. But not like this. It was almost over. Ryoga lay facedown in a pool of his own blood; Ranma wasn't sure if he was dead or just mortally wounded. He hoped the Lost Boy was as tough as he had always thought. Shampoo, a wide gash exposing some of her entrails, had curled up in a corner and was singing hysterically in Mandarin, stopping from time to time to either giggle or shriek. He hadn't seen what had happened to Mousse. A shred of white robe, soaked in crimson, lay on the pavement. Behind him, Akane lay slumped against a wall like a rag doll, arms and legs at unnatural angles. A thin trickle of blood ran from one corner of her mouth. The attack had gone badly. The thing was fast... faster and stronger than anyone had dreamed, and within only a minute Ranma had found himself flat on his back as the killing pincers ripped downward at him. Ukyo had jumped in front of him, her combat spatula swinging defiantly, and had bought him the four seconds he needed to regain his footing. And then it had sent the weapon flying, and then it had ripped Ukyo apart, torn her into seven bloody shreds as she screamed for him to help her, help her... And now it was just him, and Kuno, and the badly wounded demon. So he screamed in rage and grief, and picked up Ukyo's gore- spattered weapon, and used the Tenshin Amaguriken to drive it through the thing's chest repeatedly as Kuno distracted it from the side. He saw the unholy light in the thing's eyes begin to dim, and knew that he had won. For what that was worth. A final blast formed at the end of a pseudopod, and he prepared to dodge. In his girl form, to which he had switched at the beginning of the battle, it would be easy. And then he realised that Akane's prone form was directly behind him. Ranma sighed, and stood still. After what he had done in his selfish, reckless search for a cure, maybe it was better this way. I'm sorry, Ukyo. I'm sorry, Ryoga, Shampoo. I'm sorry, Akane. Forgive me. I love you. And then Kuno leapt for him, shouting something about love and danger, and he felt a brief annoyance at the idiot as the light rushed towards them. Stupid fool didn't need to get himself killed too... And then he was burning, and light flayed him, and his mind shrieked and ran far away as he fell through somewhere outside of reality... And then, for the first time in over two years, Ranma Saotome opened his eyes and screamed.