"Great." He crooked a finger impatiently at the rest of the group. "All right, let's see what we have here." He motioned Gwen and Owen to his side. "Pool your strengths. Do you think you can save me?"
The two Clerics meshed aura for a few moments, then shook their heads. The older man clasped Chester on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, Ches. It's too strong for us."
The king was dying. Was that check, or mate? Griffin asked, "What does that do to us? Is the Game over?"
Chester flagged a hand impatiently. "No. Something that deadly, that struck without warning? And even worse, a snake? Not after the hell I raised about the snow vipers, he's too eager for a clean kill. No..." Henderson's gaze unfocussed, and he scratched his side reflectively with a bony thumb. "No, I think our
Mr. Lopez has prepared a way out for me. He's having another of his little jokes."
Bright red hair streaked with dust, and one slender arm scraped from wrist to elbow: Gina had moved a good many rocks very quickly. "We're almost finished, hon." She picked up her power staff and brushed it off. "What happens next?"
"We wait and see, Gina." The Lore Master reached out an unsteady hand for her, and when she took it he pressed it desperately hard against his cheek.
He looks like he thinks he's dying, Griffin thought. He looks like he is dying. How can he let a game do this to him?
As the rocks were pried loose or rolled away, three wooden boxes surfaced. Faded stencilled letters showed, and the Garners began to laugh.
Chester walked over to the others and, in spite of himself, began to smile. Still partially covered by pebbles and dirt, there lay three battered cases of Coca-Cola.
"Well, children, this is our way out," Chester said. "I hope." He motioned to Kasan, and the guide jogged up without hesitation.
"Yes, oh dying bwana?"
"Are your Cargo gods strong enough to save me from this disease?"
"Oh, most assuredly, Mr. Henderson. The only real concern is what the gods may want of you in return for your life."
Chester seemed only mildly surprised. "You mean the undertaking of the quest is not enough?"
"Oh, no. You do it more for the sake of other Europeans than you do for us simple island folk."
"All right. Scan these boxes, ah... Owen and Bowan. We don't want any more screw ups just yet."
The pile glowed white and green, with no hint of red. Chester said, "Open them."
Margie produced a slender crowbar and, with an economy of movement that was delightful to the eye, she levered slats from a box. S.J. and Oliver attacked the others.
Each box contained twenty wasp-wasted bottles of caramelcolored fluid. Warm.
"All right. We're going to have to appeal to the gods of Cargo. That means we need to be as high and holy as possible. For this group, I'm afraid that means about three bottles each."
Kasan held up his hands. "Ah... none for me, bwana. You can count me out of this one."
Kibugonai deferred also, as did Lady Janet. "I'm allergic to caffeine," she said sweetly.
Chester sighed. "Then it's four bottles each. Let's get started."
Griffin sat cross-legged next to Acacia in the semicircle. Gwen and Owen were at the hub, the opened boxes of Coca-Cola at their sides.
"Hear us, Jesus-Manup. Hear us, God-Kilibob. Hear and observe," they intoned slowly. Gwen opened a bottle and passed it to Owen. Owen gave it to Alan Leigh, Leigh passed it to Mary-em; it passed down the line until it reached Chester at the far end. Gwen continued opening bottles until all held twelve-ounce containers of lukewarm cola.
"We accept this thy sacred fluid into our bodies in thy names. .
Griffin gagged it down. "I don't like soda pop," he whispered to Acacia. "I don't drink this junk."
"Shut up and glug," she whispered back, not bothering to hide her grin. "You've got to."
Griffin finished his, and passed another bottle along. "What if I have diabetes?"
"Then you can have your implant adjusted after the Game. Drink," she commanded. Ollie handed him his next twelve ounces.
Griffin drained it, stifling a heartfelt belch. Then he reconsidered and eructated with vigor. The echoes were fearsome; they seemed to go on forever, down the line and back up.
After the fourth round, moans could be heard from all corners. Tony looked green and had hiccoughs. Alex sympathized wholeheartedly.
"Who's ready for lunch?" Mary-em's question raised a chorus of vile suggestions.
Owen and Gwen finished their drinks, and sat amid a heap of empty bottles. "We are ready. Hear us, oh gods-" The air above the entire group began to shimmer with electric white. Owen lowered his voice. "All join hands, please."
Owen and Gwen faced each other, interlocking fingers as they closed their eyes.
The aura jumped and crackled, a bird's nest woven of lightning.
The air sizzled with power. Griffin squinted against the glare. His skin crawled. The ground itself trembled.
A thunderous voice split their ears, a sound that echoed to the far mountains and back. "Yes, my children," the voice said with tremendous deliberation, each word rounded and perfectly enunciated. "I know what you wish of us. Yes, your leader may be saved. He shall pick five among you, quick-witted and wise, to compete for his life. i~ you win, his life will be returned to him. If not..."
The voice faded away, and the dancing glow lifted.
Chester definitely looked more yellowish. He rose unsteadily to his feet. "Leigh, Acacia, Oliver, Gina, and... Griffin." He gazed at Alex speculatively. "Something tells me that you might answer questions as well as you ask them."
Confusion ran unmasked on Alex's face. "Questions?"
Acacia took his arm comfortingly. "Don't worry. I think you'll do fine."
The sky rumbled above them, and clouds began to mass. Like soapsuds floating in a whirlpool, they swirled together, directly in front of the sun, eclipsing it. Darkness fell, and stars glowed above them. Then it seemed that the very fabric of space was twisting and torqueing, tortured by forces beyond imagination. The stars were rippled aside as the sky tore open. Soft, pale blue light pulsed beyond the edges.
From the region beyond the sky came a tiny shadow that growled noisily, growing larger by the second. Now it was plainly visible, an olive-drab Army-issue helicopter with its engine at full throttle. It hovered above them, then set down on the grass twenty meters away. A dark man in a smart white uniform hopped from the door and ran to them carrying a clipboard.
He saluted Chester smartly. "Mr. Henderson? I believe that your representatives are ready?"
"Yes," he said, looking warily at the helicopter. "Where are you taking them?"
"To heaven, sir."
Chester pointed. "In that?"
"Surplus cargo, sir. We don't waste anything. And now, if your people are ready? Yali is waiting."
"Yali? Who is Yali?"
The man with the clipboard clucked disapprovingly. "He is your intermediary. Certainly you don't think you can get an ap
pointment with God on such short notice? Be happy for a chance to speak with His district Manager. Are we ready?"
"One moment." Chester spoke softly and hurriedly to his five representatives. "I remember a little about the New Guinea heaven. It was very European. Don't let that throw you. The important thing is the questions. Good luck."
Gina reached out for his hand, and he took it for a moment, squeezed, then let it fall. "We won't let you down, Chester," she promised. He nodded silently, his grin a lopsided slash.
The Garners followed their host into the helicopter. The door slammed shut, the engine revved, and in a cloud of dust it lifted off and vanished into the wounded sky.