TWO

It was no small surprise to pop into existence in a city such as neither of them had ever seen, or had even believed was possible. However, the bizarre (and enormous) architecture and artificial light was not the first thing they noticed. A bitter cold wind was blowing. It seemed a blue norther, but there was no sun to determine direction.

"Oh," Mattie gasped with shock as the cold smote them. "What is happening?" She huddled against Rooster's large frame in a futile attempt to escape the wind.

"I do not know." That was an understatement. "I have never seen this city." His every instinct screamed to draw, but he fell back on reason. "We must seek shelter." He felt lightheaded. They'd just eaten, so it wasn't hunger. It must be the cold. The wind cut like a skinning knife. If he was feeling it, Mattie was feeling it worse. She was so little. He put an arm around her shoulders and hurried toward the first possible windbreak he could see, in a recessed alcove of the nearest building.

"I have read of the lights of Paris, and the great buildings of New York City," said Mattie.

Of course Mattie would convoke a geography lesson. "Where is everyone?" Rooster wondered, peering about. "Seems they have cleared the streets."

"Not a soul is in sight," Mattie said. Then they saw one soul, eyes down and hunched into himself, trot from around the corner. Rooster got the impression that he would run, but for the damp pavement. The man scurried into the entrance of the same building they huddled by, almost slipping as he turned. They heard him shout "Awwww FUCK!"

"I do not think this is Paris," Rooster said dryly.

"I am forced to agree." Mattie rubbed her left shoulder absently. The upper arm was tingling. That sensation usually led to phantom pain in her missing limb. "I believe we are due for a change in the weather." The wind was blowing noticeably less rain than only a moment before.

Rooster looked at the storm on the horizon. "It could be. That is the strangest display of lightning —"

"Reuben! Look — " Her voice was almost a shout. She stopped to compose herself. "Look at my arm," she whispered.

They both stared, almost aghast, as her arm — gone from above the elbow for almost five years — began to reconstitute itself. A controlled fall of sparks, rather like a gas flame, shaped the limb's outline. Swiftly, before they could grasp what was happening, the flame solidified and became flesh. The flame was even thoughtful enough to provide a matching sleeve, complete with buttons.

"Well, I'll be," Rooster said. He could think of no profanity profound enough for the occasion. He was truly confounded.

"It is either or miracle or a dream." Mattie's usual imperturbable air was shaken, but her voice was calm. She wiggled her fingers and flexed the limb experimentally.

"We must not worry on it now. We — " He stopped and put a hand to his face. This gesture was most out of character. Mattie looked up at him. He gazed down at her, stunned. With two good eyes. The sunken eye, sealed these twenty years, was restored. Even the surrounding scars were gone.

Rooster finished the oath this time. "Well, I'll be damned."

A heartbeat passed, and then Mattie said, "You are correct. We can puzzle it out later."

"Yes." He cleared his throat. Mattie suspected that he was swallowing tears. His eyes (eyes!) were bright. "We must get off the streets." He took off his overcoat. "Put this on." In addition to providing warmth, he wanted to cover her womanly frame. No telling what was troubling this strange city.

They stepped out of their poor windbreak and almost literally bumped into the oddest-looking creature either had ever seen. He was a head taller than Rooster and almost twice as broad. His forehead sloped back drastically. His face bulged forward into something akin to a dog's snout. Long, light brown hair sprouted from his scalp and face, spotted by bald patches of no discernable pattern. His skull poked out in asymmetrical lumps that almost obscured his ears. He smelled of tomato.

Mattie had never seen the like. Rooster had, but not among the living. He'd never known anyone with a head so busted up to survive it.

Dazed with multiple shocks, Rooster and Mattie just gaped. This made it easy for the man (if it was a man) to grab Mattie with hands the size of spades and lift her off her feet. She did emit a squeak of surprise. That sound, and the size of the hands gripping her, galvanized Rooster. He backed away and drew one of his Navy Colts. He kept distant enough for safety. Rooster was certain the creature could hoist Mattie with only one hand and get hold of him as well. Damn, one hand wrapped almost clear round her torso. The other did wrap around her knees. "Unhand her, you peckerwood."

"Young man," Mattie said conversationally, "it would be healthier for you to do as he says." She could not tell if he was young, but felt that a possible flattery was no sin in this particular.

The huge being peered at them with small, sorrowful blue eyes. He seemed to have no idea why they objected to his behavior. His feelings appeared to be injured. His lower lip quivered. "Bear guard temple!" he roared.

"Put her down." Rooster's soft voice seemed very loud to Mattie's ears. The wind had died down; there was a temporary eye of quiet in this storm. He cocked his piece. Mattie concealed her shiver at the audible click. "Last chance. Put her down." Rooster truly did not want to fire. He was certain this man was capable of mangling Mattie whilst in his death-throes. He did not think the first bullet would penetrate that skull.

"Guard temple!" Bear looked ready to cry.

"Bear! Yo, Bear." A man's soothing voice approached them. "It's okay. They're friends. Friends. Put her down, man. Friends."

Rooster backed up so as to keep an eye on both Bear and the new arrival. He thanked God for his renewed binocular vision. The latest member of this drama held both hands high over his head. A studious calm was on his face. He was attempting to appear no threat at all. Rooster did not know if it was for his benefit or for Bear's.

Mattie watched calmly, her head some five feet above Rooster's. He could all too easily envision her head split wide open on the pavement. God, Mattie —

"Friends," Bear echoed. He set Mattie down, none too gently, but she appeared unharmed.

"That's good, Bear." Their savior was greatly relieved, but did a fair job of hiding it.

"Guard temple," Bear sniffled.

"Go ahead, Bear. Guard the temple. That's a good Bear."

"Good Bear," agreed Bear, and turned and lumbered away.

Jef sighed and lowered his hands. He looked after Bear's retreating mass. He noted Bear's light disc, looking absurdly small on that broad back — Shit. His turned to his visitors — yeah, that's right. No discs. Shit.

Mattie leaned against Rooster, poised but white as a sheet. "It's cool," Jef told them. "Bear doesn't mean any harm. He's just — just, uh, protective. Come in. Please." Right fucking now, because what the fuck are you thinking, hitting the street with no discs? But it was no good ragging them about it, not now.

"Much obliged," Rooster grunted. He thought the younger man looked far more shaken than Mattie. He was uncomfortably reminded of his boy Horace.

Their savior (and now host) ushered them towards the arched entrance of the building. Rooster noted how he looked about anxiously, even glancing skyward. For what reason, Rooster could not determine. He seemed to be anticipating attack, but why look up? Were there snipers in one or more of those impossibly high spires? Rooster also looked up. The sign over the entrance read SOUP KITCHEN FREE CLINIC.

"We gotta get inside, man." Their host stood behind them, trying for calm but clearly shielding them from — from something. Ah,well. If this city was in a state of war, they would find out soon enough.

God damn it. This was one hell of a way to wrap up a honeymoon.