"It stinks out here," George stepped around the scattered pieces of the worm

3.

"It stinks out here," George stepped around the scattered pieces of the slaughtered beast gingerly, avoiding the puddles of black blood that had congealed overnight. A few ratty vultures squawked and scattered in a whirl of dust and dirty feathers as he approached. They alighted on the cliff edges, watching as the three riders rearranged the supplies to compensate for the lost horse. Ash's bay was none the worse for wear, but the small white draft animal was too far gone to regenerate. The travelers hurried to pack--vile meat was strewn about the area, already beginning to decompose in the morning heat.

"You wanted to eat it last night, as I recall," Jule loaded ropes and extra weapons onto her pale mount, "Change your mind so quickly?"

"I plead temporary insanity, milady." He tugged his ballcap down as the first rays of the bright sun shot over the horizon.

They had pulled out the scrolls during the dark early hours of the morning, and decided to ride north along the spine of the mountains and see if there was any end to the sifting desert beyond them. Ash had noticed that the maps depicted the range as a crescent, and at their farthest tip they wound down to the ocean.

"If anything," He had pointed out, "There has to be a river or something else besides these worms."

"I'm all for avoiding more close encounters," George had agreed, and it was decided.

Now as they loaded up, Ash was silent. He still felt odd--the fight last night seemed like a dream, despite the overwhelming (and putrid) evidence of the battle covering the ground and cliffs around them. Too much of a weird nightmare to have actually happened. Even the deep cut in his shoulder was gone, having healed over while he was asleep, thanks to whatever Jule had applied to it. There wasn't even a scar.

The bright sun helped, making everything clear and sharper--but there was still something bothering him that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He thought it might have been a dream he'd had, but he didn't remember anything concrete. The last eight hours had blurred together--finally Ash gave up and tightened the saddle around his horse. It might come to him later, and if it didn't, then it probably wasn't important. He hooked his foot into the stirrup and hauled himself up onto the decomposing bay, who whinnied in protest at the weight of the extra supplies.

"Shut up," Ash thumped it between the ears, "I could've let that thing eat you, maggot hooves." It quieted, but flicked its ears at him in irritation.

"Hee-ha," George began to trot the horse through a narrow pass leading upwards. "C'mon, ladies, this way."

"He seems confident." Ash muttered to Jule, pulling his horse up even with hers.

"He is," She nodded, "Until he's wrong. Then he yells at you for following his lead and not thinking for yourself."

"Sounds like my boss at S-Mart."

"I've been meaning to ask," Jule took a sip of water from her canteen, then handed it to Ash, "What's an S-Mart?"

**

"So it's a big place to buy things you don't need with money that isn't actually worth anything?"

Ash groaned. Trying to explain a superstore to someone who'd never even seen a 7-Eleven was making his head hurt. "Look, it's just like trading. You exchange something of value for something of equal value." They were riding through a dry riverbed cut into the mountains, George occasionally galloping up the embankment to check on the condition of the desert. It had remained unchanged throughout the day, and now the sun shone down directly overhead.

"The little pieces of paper with numbers on them?"

"Right."

"So what do you do with the paper?"

"Buy other things."

"Why not just trade? Whatever you have for whatever you need."

"Because that would be stupid."

"You mean you don't know." Jule grinned.

Ash growled. "I didn't say that. I said it was stupid."

"No idea."

"Stop it."

"No clue."

"Shut up."

"Knock it off," George called back, "And come up here." He was several dozen feet above them on the crest of a ridge that looked out to the west. George wore a strange look, and his face was pale. There was no joviality in his voice; it was his expression that made Ash more nervous than anything else. He shot a look at Jule, who returned his uneasy glance. They rode up the narrow incline, horses scrambling for purchase as loose stones tumbled down the slope. Ash made it to the top first--he was going to take a verbal swipe at Jule for being slow, but the comment he'd been about to make died in his throat at his horse cleared the ridge. She appeared beside him an instant later, and was as wordless as the other two.

Far below them lay a swamp. The strange change in geography could have been the fault of the mountains, or some unseen force of nature. Slowly the dunes had leveled out, then congealed into soft mud as water suddenly began to appear, welling from beneath the earth itself. Whether it was an underground river, or a shallow lake that absorbed the rains that drifted in off the ocean, it was impossible to tell. Worms from the dunes emerged from the sand to roll in the mud, sucking up water from the pools, and then slithered back to their burrows in the desert, to hide in darkness. It was like a wide, flat beach that stretched for miles.

But instead of an ocean the water was shallow and filled with graves.

Ash could make out thousands of, maybe tens of thousands, crosses made of wood, of bones, and of metal protruded from the dark and murky depths--when the sun shone brightly overhead, it heated the water and cast a pall of mist over the swamp. The white mass obscured whatever lay beyond it, the horizon invisible against the opaque sky. Water steamed in the heat and dead trees tilted at angles over the larger graves--sunken mausoleums dotted the waters, the flooded windows shattered and staring, the white marble green with algae. There was no wind, and the swamp was as silent and still as glass.

"Well," Ash finally broke the silence, "Who wants to go home?" He raised his hand.

"It's not that bad," Jule argued, "Maybe we can stick to the beach."

"Worms will get us if we're within a hundred yards of land." George tugged on his ballcap, "We'll have to come up with something else."

Ash shook his head. "I can't believe you two." But he couldn't help but feel a little more confident. Maybe there was a way across. It was more promising than the dunes, anyways. He looked down the slope, at the winding trail that would take them down to the swamp. Nothing but rocks and dead trees.

Rocks and dead trees.

**

"I hope this spear is long enough," Jule worried, checking to make sure it was sturdy.

"If it's not, we'll hack off your leg and tie it onto the end." George elbowed her, the teasing tone back in his voice. He wound a rope around the two trunks he balanced on, securing them together and to the bloated bodies of the horses.

"You know," Ash shouted over the buzz of his chainsaw, "I've cut up a lot of things with this baby, but I don't think I've ever used it on wood." He hacked off another thick branch, and shoved it down the slope to where Jule and George had tied several trees together. The water was no more than five feet deep on average, but here and there sinkholes cropped up, marked by the tops of the buildings that had disappeared into them. Doubtless there were others, invisible below the water.

"How we doin' down there?" Ash cut off his chainsaw engine as the last tree on the path fell with a crash. All up and down the slope the stumps of the sickly and dead trees poked up from the earth, and skinny branches littered the ground. He kicked them aside, and pushed the last trunk hard so that it slid into the water below. Jude snagged it as it fell into the water with a splash, and pulled it to the side of the raft. George secured it with a few twists of the rope, then began to go back over the entire raft again.

"We're doing good, Ash. I think it's big enough." Jule gestured for him to come down. Ash slid downwards clumsily, careful to keep his chainsaw out of harm's way. He skidded to a stop, bracing his foot against the edge of the raft to catch himself.

"This might actually work," Ash surveyed the raft, putting his chainsaw down, and examining George's handiwork.

The floating mass of trunks and branches was more than large enough for three people. Jule had placed the saddles and the leather bags all around the edge, forming a bulwark against the murky water. The three bloated horses had been tied to the raft by their necks and bellies--being dead they floated and did not need to breathe. George had secured the reins so that he would have some degree of control over the animals, and Jule had pulled out her long spear. Ash had cut two more poles from a trunk that had been too narrow to use on the raft itself.

"Of course it will work," George tied off the last trunk, then wiped his cap across his broad forehead. " I built it, didn't I?"

"With some help," Jule stuck her spear into the water to steady the raft as Ash climbed aboard.

"Nope. All by myself. You were just the manual labor." He lay back on one of the supply sacks, "Now, let us be off. Push with all your might, peon. "

Jule made sure to smack him with her pole as she pushed the raft off the rocky bank and out into the waters of the swamp.

**

"You're not going to catch anything," Ash looked over at Jule as he dug his pole into the soft mud beneath the water, moving the raft along slowly but steadily.

"Never know," George was pushing on the other side, moving the floating mass along the sluggish current, "Could be fish in there. And if there is, mate," he advised Ash, "You'd better stop looking over the edge before you scare 'em all away."

"Ha ha," Ash glowered, "And you should step back from the water. 'Accidents' do happen, ya know."

"Shh, both of you." Jule twitched the string tied to her spear, "I got a bite."

"Probably a stick," Ash muttered, moving the pole forward, "Or a dead body."

"I get it," George snickered in Jule's direction, "You fishin' for relatives, darlin?"

"No," She yanked on the string, "But whatever's on the end of this string is going down your throat, be sure of that." Jule flipped the string upwards sharply, and something wriggling and silver erupted from the murk and arched through the air, landing in the middle of the raft. It bounced, flipped, and began to thrash desperately. Ash frowned and bent over the two-foot creature. "Is that a fish? It looks pretty weird..." The fish squirmed wildly, bumping against Ash's boot--and immediately bit down on it.

"Shit!" Ash stumbled backwards, falling against the supplies tied at the edge of the raft, "The bastard's biting me!" The fish's white eyes bulged, and the spiny whiskers around its mouth twitched frantically.

"Well it sure ain't kissing you," George knelt by Ash and took out his dagger, sticking it into the fish's mouth and prying it off. The teeth broke easily and the fish fell to the ground. Ash kicked it ill-temperedly, and it skidded across the wood towards Jule, who snapped it up in one hand.

"Christ," Ash rubbed his foot, "Isn't anything in this place normal?"

"I'm not even going to answer that," Jule examined the fish closely, "This is a bezoar. I've read about them in John's books." She plucked the whiskers from around the fish's mouth, careful only to touch the bases of the protrusions. It gurgled and hissed, four eyes shifting and blinking in pain. When she had collected them all, she tossed the fish overboard.

As the silver creature sailed through the air, a huge shape emerged from the water. It seized the fish in its jaws and instantly dove back into the shadowy depths. The wake it produced made the raft undulate slightly, and knocked over a few of the slime-covered crosses that littered the shallow lake. Ash got an impression of a huge, algae ridden skull on the end of a long muscled body before the thing disappeared below the waves. A rotting tail forming of human arms rose up behind it as it dove, and then even that was gone.

There was silence on the raft for a while, then Ash turned to Jule.

"No more fishing, okay?"

**

It was impossible to tell day from night. A heavy mist lay over everything, winding its way between cracked tombstones and makeshift crosses, covering the tops of sunken mausoleums, swirling across the top of the black water. The white pall lay in every direction, making navigation near to impossible. A sluggish, faint current seemed to be tugging to the northwest, so the three drifters let the raft follow its own way. Despite being immersed in water for hours on end, the horses seemed happy--they didn't feel the cold and preferred swimming to galloping long miles over a hot desert.

Ash yawned and sharpened his dagger--or Jules', he wasn't truly keeping track--and watched the watery cemetery float past. How many people were buried here? Thousands? Millions? They'd been buried at different times. Some graves were marked by real tombstones, in certain areas. Then the raft would drift through a section filled with crosses made of sticks, bones, and other strange materials-the tail end of the apocalypse. Ash hadn't been particularly surprised when they'd drifted past one made of two hockey sticks. People had begun to run out of things to make grave markers with.

The raft scraped against the bottom of the lake, and Jule snagged the edge of mausoleum to pull it free.

"Careful," Ash cleaned his shotgun with the dagger, "Don't want to wake the natives."

"I'll do my best," replied Jule. "You know, we haven't seen any shambling corpses or hideous zombies. Anybody else think that's kind of odd?"

"I'm thanking the gods that we haven't. I don't give a damn whether or not it's odd." George went to the back of the raft, stepping over Ash, and pushed the raft free. It began to move again, and they left the mausoleum behind. It soon disappeared into the mist.

A low howl echoed through the swamp, emerging from the fog and bouncing off the dead sagging trees until it seemed to come from every direction.

"Speak of the devil," muttered Ash, climbing to his feet. Jule peered into the fog, listening carefully while George guided the raft along the currents. The howl stopped, then started, then stopped again. As they drifted along Ash began to understand that it wasn't a howl at all, but someone calling out from far away, the voice distorted by the eerie landscape.

"Can anyone hear me? Helloo..."

Jule pointed. "It's coming from that direction."

"That's against the current," George grunted as he shifted the pole around, "C'mon, Ash, put your back into somethin'."

Ash took Jule's pole from her hands, "You guide the front." He squinted ahead, "Maybe you should do that screaming thing to get some attention."

"That would scare someone more than comfort them," Jule kept looking ahead, aiming the raft in the general direction of the voice.

Her ears must have been better than Ash's, for before he knew it a small island was emerging from the mist in front of them, and a small white dot waved its' arms frantically. As they got closer it resolved into the figure of a tall man, dressed in white, mud-stained robes, and sporting, of all things, a jeweled turban.

"Thank Soggoth! I am saved! Please, my friends, come! I am in desperate need of assistance!"

"And a straightjacket..." whispered Ash to George, who tipped his head in agreement.

The man was dark-skinned, with a narrow nose and a flowing beard tied into braids. He had tattoos on his face, on his cheeks and his forehead, and his eyes were steely and bright. A long scimitar hung on the belt at his waist, and tied to the single tree on the island was a shaggy camel. It had white eyes and white fur, and when it groaned Ash could see green gums and rotten teeth. Was every animal in the world undead?

"Hey," Jule used the pole to bring the raft to a stop, and it bumped lightly against the shore, "Need a ride?"

The man was silent and staring for an instant, then he drew his sword with a wild cry and swung at Jule. She yelped, falling backwards in surprise and going overboard, tumbling into the murky and grimy water with a splash.

"Christ, you crazy bastard..." Ash yelled angrily, drawing his shotgun from the sheath on his back and aiming it at the man's head, "What are you tryin' to do?"

"You are demons!" The man bellowed, "I see through your tricks! I banish you to the next world!" He began to speak in a language Ash couldn't understand.

"Naw, we're not demons," George hadn't drawn a weapon, and he seemed more amused than anything else. Jule was sitting in five inches of water, watching the man in irritation, white hair falling in sticky strands across her face. She rolled her eyes when he began his incantations, and climbed to her feet. Ash kept his gun drawn, just in case. She sloshed to dry land, standing a safe distance away from the still-chanting man, and began to wring out her clothes.

"You okay over there?" Ash called to her.

"Yeah, just a little damp." Jule sat down and took off her boot, dumping out the water.

"Okay mister, now..." Ash frowned as the man continued to chant, "Hey! Mister? Are you listening to me?"

The man looked up, as if surprised to still see Ash standing there. "What? Have you not gone yet? What manner of devil are you?"

"I'm not a devil, buddy." Ash began to lower his gun, "Is that what you were trying to do? Use a spell on us?"

He looked over and saw Jule, dripping but still quite solid. "This must be a trick. No true soul would travel in the company of a..."
Ash raised the gun. "Think carefully about what you want to say next."

The man paused, "...a creature begotten by evil." Ash shot a questioning look at Jule.

"That's about right. You don't have to shoot him," She smiled faintly.

"Thank you, madam..." The man said slowly as Ash lowered the shotgun, "I appreciate your candor."

"There are enough dead men these days," Jule took a step toward him, and stuck out her hand, "We have no use for yet another." Ash noted she changed her speech slightly as she spoke to the man. It seemed to work, as he only hesitated for a moment before grasping Jule's hand firmly. She gestured at Ash and George. "These are my companions. The one with the stupid face is George, and the other is Ash. I'm Jule."

"A pleasure to meet you," The man reached out and seized Ash's hand. "In my land, George is an honorable name."

Ash scowled. "I'm Ash. He's George."

George laughed and took the man's hand. "Don't pay no attention to him, mate. He's just jealous of my stunning good looks."

"I see," but the man looked puzzled nonetheless. "My name is Kazim Alhazred. I come from an ancient line of warriors--I have traveled many thousands of miles for many years," He paused, a fleeting look of embarrassment crossing his features. "And up until now I have needed no assistance."

"And do you need some now?" Jule looked around at the tiny island, surrounded on all sides by deep and dangerous waters. It was more of a careful invitation to disclose more information that an honest question.

"It pains me to say, but yes. I have traveled the deserts and mountains, icy plains, jungles and the worst of the savannahs, but never have I encountered such an unpleasant thing as this swamp." He gestured. "I had a boat, but it was damaged by some unseen monstrosity. It was my fortune to find this refuge--I have been here since the early light of morning, and I fear the night as much as any mortal man." Faint worry lines appeared on his forehead. "I dare not hope that you are going my way?"

"We're going west," Jule explained, "Hopefully across the ocean, once we figure out a way."

"Indeed!" The man crowed, "That is my intended destination as well!" He went to retrieve his camel, "It is most fortuitous that you passed this way."

"Almost too fortuitous," Ash mumbled to George.

"Naw. Seems alright, and besides, even if he isn't, he's got a sword and a horse-thing. We could use another."

"That's a camel," Ash began to think. The man was Arabian, or something, which meant he had come a long way, and lived through a lot of nights. Maybe he did have his uses.

They tied the camel to the fourth corner of the raft, and it only complained for a moment before settling down. On the island a bird chirped and flew into the air, away and to the west.

**

Back at the morning's campsite, a trio of scabrous vultures pecked at the remains of the worm. They cackled and fought each other for the least rotten pieces, of which there were few.

Abruptly they fluttered into the air, screaming in fright and confusion. A section of the worm bulged and convulsed as something inside struggled to get out. It's surface buckled and rippled as whatever it was fought its way towards light and air. The vultures alighted on a nearby rock and complained loudly, but didn't approach the horrible swelling emerging from the side of the worm's carcass. They were the only ones watching when the bulge finally split, spilling its contents onto the hard stony ground. The thing choked and spit, cursing in Candarian. It blinked the film away from its brown eyes and lurched forward, breathing heavily.

"Bitch," it hissed wetly, deformed arms slapping the stones. It was more worm than human, and it shuffled forward clumsily on four stumps that ended in fingerlike branches. Finally it stood unsteadily on two thick trunks of flesh that only vaguely resembled legs. From it's back sprouted several eye-covered tongues, and it was these that spotted the hoof prints leading away through the mountains. It turned, a look of understanding crossing it's face, and began to follow the tracks north. That bitch almost killed me. An eye for an eye, legs for a leg, soul for a soul. The thing with Ash's face grinned in the falling darkness. I'm comin' for you, baby. It began to move with more confidence, leaving a thick trail of slime as it went. The vultures watched it go with dead eyes. When the reek of evil had cleared, the vultures returned to their carrion and began to feast.

**

"So, Kazim," The pale woman addressed the white-clad traveler politely. "Why are you traveling west?" Jule and Ash were navigating the raft carefully in the strong current.

"It is a long story, and very complicated," The large man adjusted his turban, putting down his scimitar and folding his hands together neatly. "I seek to save my ancestor's soul from the great Evil. It uses his body and spirit as a bridge between this world and the next, and he has been in eternal torment since that heinous Book was written."

"Bummer." commented George, lounging against a sack of dried food.

"Yes, it is a 'bummer'." replied Kazim solemnly, "And as his direct ancestor I am sworn by duty to free him and avenge his pain."

"But the book was written at least seven hundred years ago," Ash couldn't begin to imagine such a torture, "He's been imprisoned since then?"

"Longer, to be sure. Much history was lost when mankind fell to the demons, but the exact location of the Book became known. Once I discovered that, I could not ignore my duties to my bloodline."

"A noble quest," Jule watched worriedly as the mist around them darkened slightly. The sun was going down.

"Noble, yes," Kazim sighed, passing a scarred hand across his eyes, "Wise, I am thinking not. I traveled north hoping to find a route across the western ocean, but I have not been successful. My hopes are waning." But he brightened suddenly. "Perhaps you adventurers know a way across?"

"Haven't come up with any ideas," Ash grunted, pushing against a rotten tree to move the raft along, "Course, I'm not exactly native to these parts."

"Pray tell, what is your reason for seeking the Book?" Kazim looked at them all curiously, "I have met many who sought to end the Evil's reign of terror over the earth. Is that what you intend?"

"Well," George leaned back, "Ugly here is trying to get back home," He gestured vaguely at Ash, who scowled, "And my beautiful companion wants to save the world and show up boys back at the castle." Jule made a face, the comment closer to the truth than she would like to admit.

"Wonder why George wants the book," Ash muttered to Jule.

She shrugged, then grinned. It made her face look toothy. "He needs the power of eternal evil to help his team win the pennant." Ash laughed out loud.

"I heard that," George snapped, "Cease this Yankee bashing at once."

"Not bloody well likely," Jule mimicked George perfectly. It was his turn to scowl at her. Then he smiled and smacked her leg lightly.

Kazim only looked puzzled. "I had thought that milady might be interested in the Book for other reasons."

"Unless it's got a hundred and one ways to cook a souffle, no." Jule let the current and Ash carry the raft for a moment. "But why do you say that?"

"The Book contains many incantations, some of which are beneficial to those, ah...affected by the Evil." Kazim chose his words carefully, but he saw the brief, pained look that crossed Jule's pale face. So did Ash and George, although George was all too familiar with it. Then she shrugged and went back to pushing the raft.

"Not my thing," Jule said, no trace of regret in her voice, "Being dead has it's benefits."

Has its problems too though Ash before he could stop himself. He shuttered that away immediately. Her life, or lack thereof, wasn't his business or concern.

"I see," Kazim nodded agreeably, taking in all three of them. He then scratched his beard thoughtfully. "It is a long journey ahead of us. Things may change." He said the last part softly, so that only one of the horses heard him.

"One day at a time," George stood, "And this day is rapidly running out. Maybe we should start looking for a place to land."

"I've been looking for one since it started getting dark," Jule shook her head, then frowned. "Is it me, or did the current just get stronger?" The water began to get choppy, and suddenly a few waves hit the raft, soaking George where he lay. He stood, sputtering obscenities.

"Uh," Ash didn't have a chance to respond as the pole he was using was suddenly snatched out of his grip and sucked beneath the abruptly churning waters, "Damn it to hell. I was getting attached to that pole." But his voice wasn't light. All around them the water swirled and gurgled, all of it streaming past them and carrying them along with it at the same time. Jule's pole snapped, and the raft began to buck and turn in the swamp that had all too quickly turned into a river.

"I fear their may be something unpleasant ahead," Kazim rose to his feet, grabbing his scimitar.

"Waterfall?" Ash mumbled, bracing himself against Jule and the edge of the raft. The horses whinnied nervously.

"I don't hear one." She balanced against him in turn. "I do hear something though." Her ears had once again picked up something inaudible to everyone else.

"What?" Ash's mind was filled with visions of huge monsters, snapping teeth and rotting corpses.

"I don't know. It's like a tapping and sucking..."

"I hear it too," Kazim spoke suddenly, and picked up his pack. "I hope you can all swim?"

"Yeah," George nodded, "But why..."

Out of the darkening mist rose a wall. In the wall was a mouth. Into the mouth poured water. It was pink and pulsating, it's edges lined with moldy rocklike teeth. Tiny nubs of flesh studded it's huge surface like diseased warts. It was a massive beast, it's body forming an island in the midst of the swamp.

"Shit!" Yelled Ash as the raft was pulled directly towards the gaping maw, "Bail!" He heard a splash, followed by another. Kazim and George. Jule grabbed a pack, then took a step towards the swirling water. "I hate swimming," She shouted, then plunged in. Her head disappeared beneath the churning river.

Ash grabbed his two weapons, then followed Jule. His foot caught the edge of one of the packs left behind, and he tumbled over the back of the raft, away from the others. It stung painfully, and Ash opened his mouth to curse it. Thick, grimy fluid entered his mouth, and he shut it quickly. The river was freezing, much colder than it had been that morning. A lot colder. All around him the icy water roared, and he kicked his legs in a panic. The current was still incredibly strong, but it was weaker than Ash's desire to live. He struggled to the surface, gasping for air and spitting out the filthy water. It tasted like corpses.

"Ash!" Jule's voice screaming above the rush of the water and the snapping of the monstrous thing. "Ash, where are you?"

He tried to shout to her, but his mouth was immediately filled with water. Spitting it out again, Ash realized that the snap of teeth was growing louder. He was being sucked towards the mouth, and soon he would be eaten alive. A branch came hurtling at him, and it caught him on the temple. Ash felt a flare of pain and went under, unconsciousness threatening to overtake him. It was tempting, there wasn't any way he was going to make it, he might as well give up...

No. Not now. That voice wasn't his. He'd come too far, to die this way. He kicked his legs again, pushing himself towards the surface of the river and forcing his brain to shake the darkness off.

**

"Ash!" Jule yelled, and George scanned the water intensely. All three of them were wet, but almost immediately they'd found dry land. Kind of. Kazim wound a rope in his hands, waiting for the word. All three of them were standing on a weird outcropping of flesh, a piece of the huge but apparently immobile monster.

"Ash, where the hell are you?" Jule continued to shout, hoping that the sound would let him know where they were. All three of them had made it to the same haven, having dived off the right side of the raft. But Ash had fallen off the back, and Jule had lost him in the water as Kazim and George had pulled her to safety.

"You see him?" muttered George. Jule shook her head, water streaming down her face. "There goes the raft." The wooden structure, along with the horses and camel, was pulled into the gaping maw. Jule closed her eyes as the animals screamed in pain and the raft splintered with the crack of a shotgun. The whole thing disappeared into the belly of the beast in a matter of seconds.

"Jesus, Ash," Jule turned back to the water, "Show us where you are." The water swirled in response, but no voice, no cry for help. Only the splash of the river and the crunch of the beast's gigantic jaws. They called again, and again, but after many minutes had passed, Jule's voice began to waver and crack.

"Son of a bitch," George said quietly. Jule shook her head, and he put his arm around her. "Sorry, Jules."

"Damn it. Damn that thing. Damn him." Jule went down, collapsing to the soft ground and staring out over the water. "Should've learned to swim better. Idiot." There was a long silence. George tried to think of something to say, but couldn't.

"I am not a truly wise man," Kazim spoke suddenly from a few feet away, his eyes having spotted something the others hadn't, "And I have little knowledge of dentistry..." He bent down and picked up a large rock from where it had washed up against the shore created by the monster's bulk. "But this beast appears to have something stuck in it's teeth." He tied the rope to the stone, then began to swing it around his head like a sling.

Jule and George looked up, startled. "Come again?"

Kazim sighed. "Your friend is over there." With one smooth movement he let the rope fly, and it arced through the darkening mist. It flew straight into the beast's mouth and was caught neatly between two of the yellowed incisors. The two onlookers could barely make out a pale pair of hands grasp the rope. He'd been completely hidden by the white rush of water and the darkness of the monsters' mouth. George immediately went to help Kazim, and Jule went to search through the few packs they had left.

"How'd you see him?" George grunted, hoping that the man on the other end was still strong enough to hold on.

"I am a keen observer of the universe. Keep pulling, my friend, we may save him yet." Kazim could feel the rope vibrating and humming as the fierce water pulled at it, unwilling to give up its prisoner. The two men continued to pull, and inch by inch dragged the sodden mass towards shore. Jule found what she was looking for, set it aside, and then put her weight against the rope too. Within seconds a soaked and very white Ash emerged from the river, coughing and choking. He'd been in the water for nearly ten minutes. He stood and looked at them, dazed, then swayed unsteadily. Kazim dropped the rope and supported him, gesturing for George to help. The two men led the third to where Jule had found a dry blanket and a cracked brandy bottle. It was still half full of milk.

"George," Jule looked up, "Think we can start a fire?" Ash's skin was as cold as hers was.

"I dunno," George frowned at the pink, fleshy surface they stood on, "Don't want to upset the big boy."

"He's not even shivering," Jule waved a hand in front of Ash's eyes, "Ash, can you hear me? Say something."

"Cold." He mumbled through blue lips. His thoughts were sluggish, and he could hear his own pulse in his ears.

"I'll bet." George thumped him on the back, "Get that blood flowing, ugly."

"Lie down," Jule tried to remember John's books. Hypothermia could be very bad indeed. "Put your feet up." She helped him carefully, and he muttered something under his breath that she didn't catch. George picked up the brandy bottle. "Is this for him?"

"Yeah, check and make sure it's milk."

"You put milk in a brandy bottle? Is that some kind of cruel joke?"

"Shut up, George, and give it here." Jule touched the ground she was kneeling on. It was faintly warm, if slick and wet. Kazim knelt on Ash's other side and tilted his head back, pulling his jaw open.

"Thanks." Jule tilted the bottle slowly so that he wouldn't choke, and recited a few soft phrases in Candarian. Ash gulped a few times, then raised a hand weakly. His breathing deepened a little, and some color came back to his face.

"Tastes like feet. Must be spoiled" He muttered without opening his eyes, "I guess I gotta go to the store on Monday."

"Great. You can pick me up some socks." George tried not to look too relieved, but he came over and sat on one the packs nearby. Kazim let go of Ash's head, and nodded pleasantly. "He will be fine now. You are most effective, madam. I can see why these men travel with you."

"See if you feel the same way after she cuts you open one night and then nearly gets you drowned the next." Ash shivered, then opened his eyes.

Jule handed him the miraculously dry blanket. "Not my fault you're a reckless fool. But I'll give you points for having a thick skull." There was the beginning of a purplish bruise where the branch had hit him, but other than that the river had left him unscathed.

"It's a blessing," Ash sat up, feeling better. There was a warmth in the pit of his stomach; whatever Jule had poured down his gullet was working. "Am I crazy, or are we setting up camp on a hideous thing of evil?"

"You're crazy either way," George said agreeably. "How do you feel?"

"Better. But we can't stay here for long." Ash began to get up unsteadily.

"Ash," Jule stood up alongside him, "You shouldn't..."

"I'm fine," He brushed her off, legs swaying. "I've been through a lot wor..." Ash felt the blood rush to his head, and he could feel his balance go. A moment later, so did his consciousness.

**

"Ash..." He could hear a voice calling him, faintly. There was a light above him, and again he struggled towards the surface. There was a pressure on his chest, making it difficult to breathe. "Don't Ash. Not this time." Linda? That was Linda's voice. Ash forced himself upwards, towards the light. There was a peaceful sensation ahead; behind him he felt the coldness of rain and the smell of death. "Ash, don't. You can't rest. Not yet."

"But..."

"AshleyJ. Williams!"

"Mom?!"

"Get your skinny backside down there! I'm not going to tell you twice!" He could hear Cheryl too, yelling that he was an idiot and this was all his fault. Suddenly something kicked him in the chest, hard. He felt himself tumbling backwards, away from the light. The darkness surrounded him, and the smell of rotting wood and earth. Then he was lying on something hard, a wooden floor. There was a moment of disorientation. Then his head cleared. He opened his eyes in time to see George's fist getting ready for another chest compression.

"Gah!" Ash sat bolt upright, coughing. "Get the hell away from me!"

"Whoa," He felt Jule's hands on his shoulders, "Calm down, crazyman."

Ash took a deep breath. His chest and head both hurt. "What happened?"

"You collapsed and hit your head again, genius." Jule's hands forced him down so that his head rested on one of the packs. "You stopped breathing."

"I died."

"Not quite," George scratched his chin, "We brought you back. You had some water in your lungs or something. Coughed a lot of it up."

"No, I mean I saw..." Ash blinked, trying to remember. "I think I my sister kicked my ass." His skull was throbbing. What was this, his nine-hundreth concussion?

George chuckled. "Your sister booted you out of heaven?"

"Like you'd get in, George." Jule put a hand to Ash's forehead, then handed him the canteen. "Drink. But carefully. Don't breath it in like last time."

"Thanks, Doc. I'll try to remember that piece of shining advice." He drank, carefully. It made the throbbing go down a little. "Where are we?" It was dark, except for the light of a few candles. He could see the white shape of Kazim's robes nearby. As he watched the Arabian lit another candle. They were in a decrepit house. There were black bloodstains on the walls, and the windows had been boarded up long ago.

"In the middle of nowhere. We're near the beach, though, so you could call it progress." George brushed some sand from his shirt. "That thing that nearly ate us lives in some kind of tidal pool."

"I have seen their ilk," Kazim moved to the next window, "Masses of evil from the very depths of the sea. There are many along the edge of the land, and they guard against invaders such as us."

"And you didn't feel it was worth mentioning this?" Ash tried to sit up, but Jule placed a hand on his chest. He growled at her. "He nearly got us killed!"

"He didn't know it was there. He was as lost as us. Calm down." She tried to sound soothing, but she wasn't particulary good at it. "We've got enough enemies as it is, Ash." As if on cue something heavy landed on the roof with a thump.

"Your friend is right," Kazim sat down near the door, in a meditative position. "I have no quarrel with you. Had I known, I would have of course warned you. My interests are the same as yours."

"Really? You dying for a beer too?" George chuckled.

"I would prefer a good bottle of wine. But I broke my last one in a battle with a great flying monstrosity," he sighed, "I hurled many a curse that day." George laughed out loud. Soon the two were trading war stories and comparing scars. Jule shook her head, having heard George's bragging many times before. She curled into a ball against the wall and laid her head on her arms, facing one of the few windows that remained unbroken and without boards across it.

Ash pushed over the pack he was lying on so that he could see her face. His head was still swimming, but he had no desire to go to sleep. To many nightmares waiting there. "I don't trust him," Ash muttered.

"You don't have any reason not to." She shrugged lightly, still looking out the small window. "Stop moving around. You need your rest."

"So you're saying we should trust everyone we meet until they try to kill us?"

Jule smiled a bit. "Yes."

"That's stupid."

She snorted, and glanced at him with black eyes. "I trusted you back in the City. I didn't hear any complaints then."

Ash put his hands behind his head. "I rest my case."

"Ah. So I'm a fool for saving you."

"You didn't save me. I was doing fine."

"Fine? Unless you had doggy treats hidden in those rags, you were about to be kibble."

"I didn't need your help." Ash glared at her. "I don't need anyone's help. Especially a stiff's." The last words fell like lead from his mouth. He nearly bit his tongue off as soon as they were out.

Jule didn't react at all, just went back to looking out the window. "Whatever you'd like to believe."

Ash was silent. He listened to Kazim describe a battle against an army of winged horrors. Outside, claws scratched against the thin wood of the little house. He looked up at Jule. Her clothes were still damp, and she looked drawn and weary.

"You should get some rest too."

"I don't sleep, remember?" She didn't look at him.

"You're tired though."

"Ash, go to sleep."

He gave up. Apparently, even dead women were difficult. He closed his eyes and tried to think of nothing at all. It was difficult. But eventually he began to drift off.

He was dreaming again. There was blood and screaming, and the clang of armor against metal. Sheila shrieking in pain. She sounded a lot like Linda. Then he was laughing, madly, along with the Evil. His alter ego was watching him somewhere off in the darkness, grinning. He could feel the evil taking him over, so he sheared off a hand, then a leg, then he brought the chainsaw blade up to his own throat...

"Ash!" Jule was shaking him awake, whispering fiercely. "Ash!"

"Hrr..." He blinked at her blearily. "I was..."

"Having a nightmare." She put a finger to her lips. "Shh. Everyone's asleep." He could hear George and Kazim snoring.

"Wouldn't want to wake them." He coughed, throwing off the horror of sleep.

"You were talking in your sleep. You said they were taking you."

"Yeah. The Evil." He stopped, and looked at her. Her face wasn't angry, or irritated. She just looked worried. "I guess I'm just not used to it yet."

She laughed softly. "We've had a lifetime to get used to it, Ash. Many people I know still scream at night." Jule moved to lie next to him. "It must be hard for you."

"I promised last night not to whine. Don't tempt me."

"You also called yourself a chump and an idiot."

His brow furrowed. "I don't think the specific word 'idiot' was used." Ash looked over at her comfortingly creepy face. Not actually that creepy, really, once you got used to it. But she was right about not needing enemies. Jesus, he hated apologies. It wasn't like he'd done anything wrong in the first place, either. He couldn't help it if she was overly sensitive. But Ash readied himself, and then choked down his pride. It was hard to swallow. "I'm sorry."

She smiled, a real smile, and that was worth it. "Are you going to try to go to sleep again?"

"Don't have much of a choice. Can't let Aladdin and Babe Ruth over there beat me in the snoring contest."

"True. If it helps, I'll stay right here."

"What am I, a kid?"

"You tell me."

Ash sighed as if she had requested some great favor, then moved over a little. Her shoulder was bony and her skin cold; he could feel her heart beating sluggishly in her chest. But it did help. She eventually threw one arm over his chest as sleep began to overtake him. Not exactly a Kodak moment, but it was better than nothing.

I'll be damned he thought as he dozed off, we might all just make it. After today, nothing could stop us.

He did have more nightmares that night, bloody, hideous things, but they weren't quite as vivid. And Linda and Sheila were mercifully silent.

*****

To be continued, of course. As a favor, please point out any continuity errors.