A bit later I heard a distant humming sound, and raised my head. Something was speeding down the road toward me, and throwing up clouds of dust as it came. It was white, and seemed to float above the ground. As it neared I saw that it looked almost exactly like a giant flying egg.
It came to a halt beside me, then spoke in a low, soothing voice. The language was unfamiliar, but I realized that I could indeed understand it. It said, “Greetings, pilgrim. May I conduct you to the city?”
“Um, okay,” I replied, in that same language.
The egg’s top half unfolded like a blooming flower, revealing a cushioned red seat within. “Welcome aboard.”
I climbed a short set of steps and settled into the chair. The dome re-formed itself above me—the vehicle resuming its egglike shape—and we accelerated toward the city. From inside, the thing’s walls were transparent, and I watched as the ground sped by beneath us and the city drew ever nearer.
We flew through an enormous gate and came to a halt in a white plaza beside a giant fountain. The vehicle opened and let me out, then sped away, back to wherever flying eggs go.
There were people all around me. They were varied in appearance, but were all apparently human, and most were dressed in white, their garments simple and clean. I felt a little conspicuous standing there in my street clothes, which were still a bit spattered with fish-man, but no one seemed to pay me any attention as they strolled about, chatting and laughing.
I wandered down a broad avenue toward the city center, keeping an eye out for any sort of weapon. Having no knowledge of local customs, I was a bit reluctant to just come right out and ask where I could buy a gun. I kept hoping to see a big sign with a sword or machinegun on it, but no such luck.
I passed a park. The grass there had been shaped into a triangular field, upon which children played a sport involving a cube-shaped ball and sticks that looked like a cross between a golf club and a cricket bat. I paused for a moment to watch.
On a bench beside me sat a man who was watching the game. He said, “Dhajat season is always my favorite time of year.”
He was an older fellow with a placid face and a long white beard, and he held a glass of what looked like lemonade.
“Uh, yeah, mine too,” I said, hoping that was an appropriate response.
He gave me a friendly smile. “What brings you to the city, pilgrim?”
“Um, I’m looking for something,” I said.
He nodded sagely. “We’re all looking for something.”
“Oh,” I said. “Right.”
Should I chance it? Oh what the hell, he seemed as friendly and talkative as anyone I was likely to meet.
I added, “But, um, actually I’m looking for something kind of specific.”
“Truth?” he said. “Enlightenment? I was like you once. Don’t worry, you’ll find it.”
“No,” I said, “more like, um, a gun.”
He chortled. “Ha! That’s a good one.”
I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. He was back to watching the game. I said, “Or a sword. I mean, any sort of weapon, really.”
Slowly he turned to face me. “You are…joking?”
“Um…” I said.
“You came here to shop for weapons?” He laughed uproariously. “Tourists!” he declared, wiping tears from his eyes. “Don’t you know where you are? No one would ever dream of bringing a weapon within a hundred miles of Nervuh Nah, City of Peace.”
I started to get a sinking feeling. I turned away.
Things were definitely not looking good. There were no weapons here, no weapons anywhere near this whole city. My mission was a complete failure. There was nothing I could do to help stop Abraxas, and now he’d probably escape through the purple door, leaving Earth forever in a state of crippled ontological peril.
Also, Asha was going to be really pissed off.
Then I had an idea.
Asha eyed my offering with disbelief. “And what exactly,” she declared, “is that?”
“A dhajat bat,” I said.
“And just what am I supposed to do with that?”
“Um, play dhajat,” I said. “But—”
She put her face in her hands and shook her head. “Kid,” she moaned, “is there something about the concept of a ‘weapon’ that you’re not getting?”
“It’s not my fault!” I said. “It was like a whole city of pacifists! There were no weapons anywhere. I just thought—”
“All right, all right,” she interrupted. “Give it here.”
I passed her the bat, and she took a few practice swings.
She sighed. “Well, it’s better than nothing, I guess. But I wish you would’ve—”
She stopped suddenly.
“What?” I said.
She whispered, “He’s here.” She nodded at the fireplace. “Get over there. Stay out of this.”
I hurried to comply. A short time later I heard footsteps approaching. Asha hefted the bat.
My dad walked into the room.
“Wait!” I cried, as Asha rushed him. I lunged to interpose myself between them, waving my arms. “It’s okay, it’s my dad!”
Then I noticed that my dad was grinning in a very sinister, very un-dad-like way. And he was holding something—a snow globe?
“Steve!” Asha roared, shoving me aside, “get out of the way! It’s—”
My dad hurled the globe to the floor at Asha’s feet.
Then it was like I was staring into the sun. I flew through the air—
I came to moments later, draped across one of the overstuffed chairs, which had been knocked to the floor, apparently by me, and I hurt everywhere. I raised my head to try to see what was going on.
Asha lay sprawled on the floor. Whatever that glass ball weapon had been, she’d absorbed the brunt of it, and seemed to be out cold. The dhajat bat had flown from her grasp and landed in the corner, where a tall, thin figure was bending over to retrieve it.
He didn’t look at all like my dad now. He wore a brown trenchcoat and fedora, and the hat cast impossibly deep shadows over his face, but I could make out hints of gaunt, skeletal cheeks, and a heavy jaw lined with jagged teeth.
He gripped the bat and straightened, turning toward Asha.
“No!” I cried, stumbling to my feet. I snatched up a heavy ceramic ashtray and threw it at him, but when it struck him it bounced off as if it were made of styrofoam, and he paid no attention.
I felt a flood of despair. The only object in the room with enough reality to affect him was the bat, and—
Wait! I thought. Asha’s knapsack. Her gun! If it had come from her world, it must have an OF of ten, like her. I tore open the pack and yanked out the gun.
Abraxas stood over Asha and raised the bat to strike. With a cry I hurled the gun at him as hard as I could.
It hit him in the back of the head, and his hat went flying. “Ow!” he screamed.
Then he turned to regard me, and his face was even more frightening than I’d imagined. His eyes were black sockets within which green ghost-fires blazed.
I fled in a mad panic, sprinting out the door and into the hall. As I rounded the corner, Abraxas stepped out through the wall right in front of me.
He smiled, and I backed away, cringing and stumbling. As I retreated past the library door, I noticed that Asha’s body was gone. Where—?
Suddenly two hands reached out through the wall, seized Abraxas by the shoulders, and yanked him sideways. He gasped—and the bat fell from his fingers—as he was dragged back through the wall.
I moved to the door, and watched as Asha raised him above her head, and then she spun him around and piledrove him into the floor, which exploded like it’d been hit by a meteor. I ducked behind the wall as bits of flooring and foundation rained all about the room.