Blind God's Bluff A Billy Fox Novel - By Richard Lee Byers Page 0,17
against the night sky.
I just had time to think: Egypt. Then creatures stalked out of the shadows.
They were eight feet tall, with heads that were too big and the wrong shape. The nearest one roared like a lion and chopped down at me with an axe.
I jumped out of the way, and I swear, he missed. Still, a shock went through me, and I split into pieces.
Or into five versions of myself. Number Two looked exactly like me. Number Three glowed red, and Four, a silvery white. Five was murky and almost invisible in the gloom. But I still recognized him as a semblance of me, the way you recognize your shadow on a wall.
The giant with the lion’s head came at me—or at us—again. So did one of his buddies, who had the long toothy jaws of a crocodile.
The five of us scattered. I felt instantly that it was a mistake, but it was also the only thing to do if we were all going to avoid having to fight giants with our bare hands. And I didn’t control the others, anyway. Each of them was making his own decisions.
I ran, dodging through the columns with their carved hieroglyphics, using them for cover. The giants used them, too. A fat one with the head of a hippo jumped out right in front of me, feet planted wide in a sumo stance and hands stretched out to grab me.
I dropped and slid on the hard stone floor like I was sliding into second. I shot between his feet, scrambled up, and ran on.
Not long after that, I found myself at the spot where the temple—if it was a temple—gave way to desert sand. Panting, I wondered if I should keep going. Then what I thought might be the voice of a hippo man gave a grunting, croaking cry.
But not quite the way a real animal would do it. I thought I could make out words in the noise, although I had no idea what they meant.
Echoing through the temple, other animal voices roared, hissed, and bellowed in response. The three or four monsters that had been hot on my trail turned and headed back the way we’d come.
That seemed like it ought to be a good thing. But I was pretty sure it wasn’t.
For the first time since the Army cut me loose, I wished for my M16. And when I did, I felt what was starting to be a familiar shiver inside my chest.
Was it possible I could make a rifle, or call one to me? I figured I might as well try. I pictured the Thunderbird, and then the M16. I remembered the weight and feel of it in my hands, and the kick when I fired it. I wanted the hell out of it, and hoped I wouldn’t fly off to wherever it was instead of drawing it to me.
Then the cramps hit, like my insides were rupturing. Maybe because I was operating on only one fifth of my mojo. I kept concentrating anyway.
Something slithered around and through my fingers, liquid and oily at first, then hardening. I looked down and saw my rifle, just like back in Afghanistan. It even had the long scratch on the stock.
My instincts told me that, hard as the trick was, it would have been a lot harder in the real world. But in this place, I’d had just enough juice to pull it off.
I waited for the cramps to ease, then crept deeper into the temple. As I did, my other selves slipped out of the shadows one by one.
First came the red guy, shining like a hot coal. Next, the one who looked exactly like me. And then, hesitantly, the shadow.
Which left us a man down. “Where’s the other glowing guy?” I whispered.
The shadow pointed toward the heart of the temple. Right on cue, animal voices started chanting.
“Shit,” I said. The giants had called off the chase because they’d caught one of us, and one was apparently all they needed. “Christ only knows what they’re doing, but we need to go get him.” I started forward.
The others stayed put.
I turned back around. “What’s wrong?”
“If I die tonight,” asked the guy who looked exactly like me, “who will remember me?”
“Who gives a rat’s ass?” I answered. I looked at red me and shadow me. “What’s your problem?”
They just stared back, and I decided they couldn’t talk. Not that they really needed to. Their attitude was clear.