Lavabull Page 7

  “You’re talking magic,” John protested. “That doesn’t exist.”

  “Yes, magic. For this reason, we prefer that you keep our secret. Magic exists, but it is not politically correct. However, the proffered deals are real.”

  Now Marsha spoke. “We’re interested. But we’d prefer to check out these lava folk before making any commitments.”

  “Open your mind, and the man will contact you mentally,” Lavender said. The thing about mental contact was that it was inherently honest. Lying was impossible, and compatibility was either there or not there.

  Marsha was dubious, but tried it. In a moment a look of wonder crossed her face. Then interest. Then passion. “Oh, I want to meet you, lava man,” she breathed.

  “About the lava woman who looks like you—” John said.

  “Open your mind. You will know her when she comes.”

  John did. “Wow!”

  “They will guide you to them,” Lavender said. “You will need to rent a small boat to go pick them up. You will have to deal in cash only, so as not to give away your identities, but they will help you earn enough money to live on. Remember, they can read minds; that makes a difference both personally and when dealing with other people. They will be your loyal companions. All they want is your respect and love. Speaking as the child of a human/lava couple, I can assure you that you can trust them. And the volcano they represent.” She knew she didn’t need to say more, because the lava couple was already in touch. They knew.

  Marsha stood and put on her clothing. She efficiently packed her bag, but left her purse for Lavender. “We are on our way.”

  “Our identities are yours,” John said, handing The Bull his wallet. “You can reach us through the lava folk if there is need.”

  Then John and Marsha departed.

  The Bull lay down on a bed. “I’m overdue for a nap,” he said, and conked out.

  Lavender didn’t need sleep in the same way he did, but she was ready for a good rest. She lay down on the other bed.

  They were on their way to America, anonymously. And Brookstone was in for an ugly surprise, in due course. And maybe they would succeed in learning what he and Villainous were really up to.

  Meanwhile they were John and Marsha, a honeymooning couple. She would have to drill The Bull on compartmentalizing his mind, and on mentally being a man in the throes of love and sex, so that any telepaths they might encounter would be fooled.

  She glanced at The Bull, sleeping. She doubted he would have a problem. He was already dreaming of her.

  Chapter 14: Villainous #2

  World Media Transmission #2

  Greetings, I am Villainous.

  You are still alive. Congratulations. If not for the heroic and misguided attempts of a few individuals, you would surely be breathing your last. The poison needed only to be inhaled by a few of you, and would travel quickly to the rest. My calculations predicted 90% human and primate casualties within 7 days. 99% within 10 days.

  A lot of death. A lot of mayhem.

  I do have a back-up plan, of course. Every good criminal mastermind has a back-up plan. Or three.

  No, do not hate me. I am merely ending your existence quickly, before you do it slowly. Thus giving the earth a chance to rebuild from the plague that was the human race. Yes, I used the past tense.

  Your death is imminent.

  I had tried to remove you quickly and painlessly. The poison—one of my own concoctions—would have put you all to sleep, to breathe your last in blissful slumber.

  Now, well, now you are not so lucky.

  Truthfully, I prefer method #2.

  Yes, I am a monster, after all.

  Prepare for your death.

  Now, you burn.

  Chapter 15: Secrets

  We were sitting in the cabin, eating enough for three men. Correction, I was eating enough for three men. Turned out, Lavender didn’t need much food.

  “What do you eat?” I asked.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Try me.”

  She was sitting on the corner of the bed, watching me. She had long since ditched her horns to blend in with the other, non-horned tourists, which is how she was able to score me my personal buffet. Myself, I wasn’t so lucky. These massive horns weren’t going anywhere. For now, or until it was dark, I was cabin-bound.

  She got up from the bed and plucked the fork out of my hand. Yes, I use a fork—and utensils in general. I’m not a complete animal, after all. Lavender held the fork before her, and in no time flat the pronged utensil began glowing. Then it did more than glow, it wilted over her knuckles like a plucked flower. And what she did next, I’ll never forget.

  She crumbled the fork up into a superheated, glowing ball... and then popped it into her mouth like something a kid would buy at a candy shop. Except this candy had once been a metal.

  “Alloy to be exact. Not the most satisfying of snacks, mind you, but it will hold me over until I find something more suitable.”

  “And what’s more suitable?” I asked, suddenly aware that the only fork in my possession was presently down my girlfriend’s gullet.

  “Silver. Gold. Nickel. Titanium. Your high-end metals.”

  “Jesus, that could get expensive.”

  “I never said I came cheap.”

  “You can say that again. Now, could you fetch me another fork?”

  She did, and when she returned, she said, “The boat is abuzz.”

  “I thought it was afloat.”

  “Very funny, Bull. Apparently, there was another Villainous transmission. He’s threatening to burn the world.”

  “Burn how? More lava?”

  “I doubt it. There’s only one way that anyone could reach the entire world with fire.”

  I set down the fork. I suddenly wasn’t feeling very hungry.

  “You can’t mean...”

  “I do. Somehow, the bastard got a hold of not just one nuclear weapon. But my guess is a whole arsenal of them. Enough to destroy the world.”

  “And not just primates,” I said. “Us included.”

  “Well, you. I could withstand a nuclear blast, as long as I’m not too close to it. Radiation would do little to me.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “Call it a gut instinct.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right. But for the rest of us, we have to stop this bastard once and for all. He’s beginning to bug me.”

  Lavender laughed, then snatched up my fork, heated it, wadded it up, and swallowed it down.

  “Will you quit doing that?” I said, setting aside my plate.

  “Hey, I figure I’m gonna need my strength.”

  “For what?”

  And now I saw a different sort of smoldering. This time from deep within her irises. “Hey,” I said. “Nice trick.”

  “It’s no trick, big guy.”

  “But don’t we have the world to save?”

  “We will, in due time.”

  “But—”

  And she shushed me by pressing those super-heated lips onto mine. I might have whimpered a little.

  ***

  It was after, and I think I broke the bed. Oops.

  “You might have broken me, too, big guy,” she said, winking. Lavender could, of course, adapt her shape readily enough. Apparently not as fast as the pure lava men and women, but swiftly enough, especially as I myself was heating up. “My question is: did you have to bray like something wounded?”

  “Oh, did I?”

  “You did, and it was loud.”

  “It was also the first, um, time since, you know...”

  “Since you turned?”

  “Yes. I wasn’t even sure I could. I mean, I suspected I could, but I also thought I would seriously hurt...”

  “A normal girl?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, luckily I’m not normal.”

  “And luckily you came into my life.”

  “You can thank the article I read o
n you. Which gets me thinking about Villainous.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Fun time is over, big guy. You might just be the only guy who can defeat Villainous, which is why he sent Brookstone after you in the first place.”

  “To set me up?”

  “I think so, yes. You were very much meant to die in that volcanic eruption. And, for all he knows, you really did die.”

  “Fine. But let’s circle back to this ‘I might be the only person who can stop Villainous’ business. Why would you say that?”

  “Because I’m beginning to think that he created you.”

  “You said that. You thought I might be his first.”

  “Yes, I had thought that. But I have been thinking about it ever since, especially when you finally got off me and were catching your breath—”

  “Hey, I’m beginning to think I didn’t do a very good job—”

  “You were fine. Now, can we talk about saving the world... again?”

  “Fine,” I said, although I was suddenly not very fond of the word. “Why do you think I can stop him? I mean, I can stop just about anyone, but why do you think he wants me dead?”

  “Because you were his mistake, Bull. Think about it. While he was busy building an army of animen and aniwomen, he inadvertently created you too. Not to mention, you were the one he couldn’t control. Last I checked, you aren’t doing his bidding, unless your bidding was bedding me.”

  “Very clever,” I said. “Who knew lava girls could be so funny.”

  “Half lava,” she said.

  “Fine. So I was his big mistake. So what does that mean?”

  “It means he fears you somehow. Enough to arrange to get rid of you in the volcano.”

  “Fears me why? I mean, if I ever see the little weasel, I’d wring his neck.”

  “No. It’s more than that. Anyone with half a mind would fear your great size and strength. No, he fears something else.”

  “While we think about it, why don’t you give me another shot at it.”

  “Shot at what?”

  I jutted a thumb at the bed behind me.

  “Oh no, big boy. I’m still recovering. I think my legs are still out of joint—oh, don’t mope. No one likes a sad bull.”

  “I just think I could do better. I was a little rusty.”

  “You could say that again. But there’s always later. Especially when the world isn’t being threatened with nuclear destruction.”

  “Fine,” I said, and sighed. Yeah, I was moping.

  “There’s something about you. Something he can’t predict. Or something else.” She suddenly paused, turned and faced me. She took my head in her hands. They were pleasantly warm. “I have an idea. No, not that idea. Another one. Let me search your mind... maybe there’s something hidden in there... something I can find that you might not be aware of.”

  “Worth a shot,” I said.

  And with that, she closed her eyes, and I felt her probing my mind, probing deep...

  Chapter 16: Mark Twain

  It was like walking through a wasteland or a garbage dump, this excursion through the guts of a man’s mind.

  It seemed that half of it was concerned with sex, a third with survival, and the rest with assorted things washed up on the shore of a frustrated existence. It didn’t help that she was the passionate object of the sexual portion; both his man aspect and his bull aspect wanted to get into her and never get out. Completely unrealistic, of course, but the underlying passion had little concern for reality. If there was one thing men were stupid about, it was sex. Fortunately around the edges, among the weeds, were some reasonable constraints, such as the knowledge that she could heat her core and incinerate any intrusion she did not want. Also, the early throes of what could reasonably pass for love. This bull’s experience with that china shop was limited, but it was already forming into a ring in his nose.

  What she was looking for was anything relating to Villainous or the animen, that predated the Villainous broadcast. The Bull had not consciously known of them, but they had surely known of him, especially if he had been created as part of the program. What was different about him? Why did they want to eliminate him? Just because he had a bovine mind of his own? That might be annoying, but not reason for such a complicated effort to get rid of him. Why hadn’t they tended to the extermination of mankind first, then gotten around to the details like The Bull at their convenience? He really would have known nothing about the animen had Brookstone not told him. Not that ignorance would have been bliss, as the human realm collapsed.

  There had to be something else. Something that made him a real threat to Villainous. How could that be, when he was just one of a group of conversions? It had to be a difference that set him apart from the others. Yet the merging of animal and man had been successful, so it wasn’t physical. Could it be mental? It wasn’t extraordinary intelligence; he was okay, but no genius. It wasn’t any great background knowledge; he didn’t know anything that had not already been in the minds of the man and the bull before they merged. He did not have any secret knowledge of Villainous scandal that could be used for blackmail. He simply didn’t know anything outside of himself.

  But there was an obscurity. It was like a passage into a cellar chamber marked NO TRESPASSING. What was that doing here? Why bother to mark it off? It was right between the mind of the bull and the mind of the man, like an interface. It was not native to either mind; it was something inserted from outside. That had to be the work of Villainous.

  She oriented on it. It seemed like a connection between the two minds, except that it was closed, not open. Why have such a thing, when the minds were essentially unified without it? It seemed to be without purpose, and that made her suspicious. Why go to all the trouble to put it in there if it had no function?

  Lavender had no real knowledge of the wiring of computers, but she had heard of something called a logic gate. As she understood it, which was hardly at all, it was a kind of arbiter of a concept, like a transistor that limited the flow of current along a wire, unless a signal to the transistor told it to get out of the way. This was blocking a concept, unless told to unblock it. What was the concept? All she could tell was that on one side was the bull mind, and on the other was the man mind. They were walled from each other, at least to this very limited extent.

  She knew she was on to something. Since the man and bull minds were already working together well enough, so that their joint body could function and their joint mind could agree that they desired to have endless sex with a tough enough woman, why should just this one portion be limited? She traced the leads, and discovered that they led to the centers of identity: the innermost essence of the bull and the man, which remained separate. Their self-awareness. In fact, The Self, the seat of personal consciousness. That connection was blocked off by the logic gate. That meant that there was no community of identity in this one area. The identity was that of the human, while that of the bull was outside looking on. What would happen if the transistor was told to change and let the bull identity through?

  She did not need to ponder long on that. The bull was raging; it wanted to dominate, and charge through the streets goring man, beast, and building, leaving a wake of destruction behind. If it ever got through and took over, beauty would be governed by the beast. The man she knew and was starting to love would be gone.

  It was surely similar in every animan and aniwoman: the beast was chained, the human governed. But why? If the gate were ever changed, either the animals would take over, or the creature as a whole would become dysfunctional as its two selves fought over possession of the body. Why nullify the animen like that? Why have even the potential for nullification?

  She left that question in abeyance as she studied the gate. Now she saw that this one was broken; maybe the lightning strike that merged bull and man had incidentally fried the gate. Either the bull or the man could have been given control; as it happened, it was the man. Maybe others had failed, and the raging anim
al had run amok and gotten itself killed. This one had been lucky. So if the signal came through to change the gate, nothing would happen; this one was off its hinges and would not move. The Bull was safe; he would never turn fully animal and destroy himself.

  But, again, why? Obviously the dangerous gate had been installed for a reason. What could that possibly be?

  The question brought its answer: animen were wild creatures, prone to violence. Only the human element made them at all manageable. Suppose one got out of control? A signal to the gate could shut it down in a hurry. Villainous might be justifiably paranoid about his minions; one on the loose could be very bad mischief. The Bull was proof of that. There needed to be a way to turn him off in a hurry, quietly so as not to disturb others in the vicinity. The gate would do it. The boss was making sure there could be no revolt of his minions.

  Now she was beginning to understand. Villainous must have caught on that The Bull’s gate was broken, so he could not be quietly turned off. Maybe Brookstone had verified that, when they met. So he had to be eliminated before he got troublesome. In fact, he was already troublesome; maybe the same broken gate accounted for his independence from Villainous and determination to be his own beast-man.

  So what was the signal that would change the gate, not that it mattered in The Bull’s case? This time she followed the lead from the gate. It went to the nerve center for speech and hearing. So it was a spoken command. What was it?

  Finally she ran it down: Mark Twain. She knew that was the pen name taken by a famous American writer, Samuel Clemens, who had once worked on a riverboat on the Mississippi. When the water got shallow they had to know exactly how deep it was so the boat would not snag on a bar. They needed at least twelve feet clearance, or two fathoms. When the man called out “mark twain,” that meant it was deep enough, but watch it. Certainly there were treacherous waters here!