joegoda | The Kansas Incident.

48540 / 50000 words. 97% done!

Diving into another person is a lot like diving into a very dark well, on a cloudy moonless midnight, buck-naked and with your eyes shut. The first time I did, it was with, naturally enough, a girl. I think I was eighteen or nineteen, and I thought, at that time, that I was in love. We would sit outside under the moon and we would hold hands and pretend that we were together, forever.

One night, I looked at her and caught her looking back at me. I really looked at her, and looked deep, deep into her. I almost felt that I could just fall into her eyes and so... I did. Without being conscious of it, my mind let loose and floated free from my own head and fell into hers.

At first I was a bit shaken, wondering what the hell was going on. It was dark, and it was a bit noisy, full of echoey thoughts and rumbly ponderings that were not my own. I came to the realization that I must have entered her mind, and just like that, I was back in my own head.

I remember thinking, "how very odd." The girl, whose name I won't reveal here, didn't seem to notice anything. So I did it again, except this time, I kept my wits about me. I left my mind and sort of floated into hers.

At first, it was dark and sort of cloying. And I got the impression of some sort of sickly sweet smell, like flowers that had been in the sun too long. It was definitely a tunnel like experience, a lot like what you hear from folks with an after death experience.

Down and down I traveled into her mind, kind of swimming along this tunnel, until I reached a place where the darkness had been replaced by a dull glow. This place, this glowy place, deep in the subconscious of my girlfriend, was occupied by the self-image of the girl I was with.

She was this little girl, dressed in a princess costume, all pink and frilly lace. She even had the crown and the little wand with the star on the end. The star was pink too. She sat at a tiny tea set and across from her was her image of me.

In her mind, I seemed much larger and much older and somehow, dignified. Not at all the pimply, shaggy haired guy I was in real life. The image shook me a bit, thinking that this was how she really saw me. I was nowhere near that image, that solid citizen, that good provider, that dignified man. Not even close, and it scared me something awful. Trying to live up to that image of me was more than I was ready for.

I pulled out of her mind slowly, gently, just sort of crawling back into my own head. This girl had some serious pie in the sky notions. Fortunately, she got to see the real me soon enough, and she left me for a man that she thought she loved.

Since that time, I have used this ability very sparingly. It wasn't telepathy, because I couldn't read her thoughts. At least, I don't think it was. Whatever it was, it was more like looking at a person's soul, seeing them for what they really are, and it made me feel dirty somehow. I don't think we're supposed to see that side of a person. I never even told Bob Plumb about it, because I just simply didn't want to think about it. Maybe he knew I had it in me anyway. Who knows?

Anyway, diving into the mind of Andrew Lawrence was a lot like that first time with that old girl friend. It was dark; it was sort of tight and just a bit scary. Except this time, I was diving into the mind of a crazy person, and the mind of this crazy person was trying to fillet me with knives of thought and impressions of death and destruction, because he knew exactly what I was trying to do. Maybe this is what an Aspect feels like when it first wakes up.

I wasn't very scared, only a little bit, like I said. I knew pretty much that there wasn't anything he could actually do to hurt me, because I was traveling in his mind but still attached to my own as well. Besides, once you move the ego out of the way, it is very, very hard to be hurt by anything that is not physical.

Down and down I swam thought this dark tunnel full of empty threats and phantom menace. I was looking for that glowy place, and I found it, deep, deep under the surface. I finally got to see the true face of Ammit.

He or she, because the form was definitely feminine, was this giant conglomeration of a lion, a bear and a crocodile. The lion was the back part, the haunches of the beast, and the face was all croc. The mid-section was what looked like a bear, or may be it was something else, because the skin wasn't furry. It was leathery. Like a elephant. Maybe a hippo. With breasts on it's leathery chest and long flowing black hair coming from the back of the croc's head. There was a heavy leather collar studded with sharp spikes around the crocodile neck, and there was a broken leash attached to the collar.

This was how Ammit saw itself. It was a thing that made me almost laugh out loud. It was sort of like what Dr. Seuss might have made if he had been on acid and figured the Cat in the hat needed something more ludicrous than himself to poke fun at.

I had a difficult time equating this creature I was seeing with the sense of danger I was experiencing from Ammit. Still, there it was, fully formed and regardless of how ridiculous it looked, the ancient Egyptians gave Ammit one serious job - The Eater of Souls.

I did find Andrew Lawrence. The poor guy was trapped underneath the lion's haunches. He wasn't even struggling. If there was any ego left to this poor guy, it had fled long, long ago. He was dressed in a tuxedo, torn to rags by the lion's claws and he wore no shoes. His hair was black, unlike the older salt and pepper it now was, and his eyes were vacant.

I reached out to touch him, and pulled back almost immediately. I felt nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, good here. It was as if Lawrence was completely gone and he had just been replaced with a representation of guilt and regret and remorse.

Ammit was right. There was no Andrew Lawrence. There was only Ammit.

With just a bit of sadness... no, there was a lot of sadness; I pulled back into my own body. It was horrible to see a person who had allowed his ego to become so submerged that he ceased to be a person at all. I didn't cry for him. Andrew Lawrence made his bed, and damned though that bed may be, he chose to lie in it.

I felt sadness for a life lost and potential ruined, but nothing more than that. I had a job to do. I had my friends to save from whatever nastiness that Ammit would visit on them if he were allowed to run free. It wasn't the world I wanted to save. Just my little part of it.

Once I was back in my own head, I smiled tightly at my friends. "How long was I out?"

Tim shrugged. "Seconds, maybe? I didn't even know you were gone."

"I did," Sherry said. "I saw you go... um... Empty."

Christie touched my arm and asked, "Did you find Andrew?"

I nodded. "He wasn't really there, Christie. He had given up a long, long time ago. The man you knew doesn't exist any more."

She returned my nod and a tear fell down her cheek. "I was afraid as much." She turned away, and her own sadness allowed the 'Bads to intensify their attack on her house. Somewhere a window broke and a cold wind blew through the house.

"Christie," I put a hand on her shoulder, "I'm sorry, but we need to get to the garden right now. We have to get to the windmill."

She nodded and turned back to face us. "Of course," she said. "Come with me."

Before I left, I dropped down to look into Ammit's eyes. "I'll be back," I told him. "I'm coming back with something to send you back to where you came from."

"You'll never succeed," he chuckled. "You won't find what you are looking for, and you will fail. I will destroy you, your friends and your family. And once I'm done with you, then I will start on the rest of the world."

"I don't think so," I muttered darkly, and sent to his mind an image through the solar winds of what I was looking for. I sent the image of Bob Plumb, sitting on a porch, holding something that flashed blue and green in his hand. "All I have to do is get this amulet, and you'll be toast."

For a moment, I saw real fear in his eyes. His chuckle died in midstream and he grimaced. "You'll never make it," he spat at me. "We will stop you."

Christie tugged on my sleeve. "Enough of him," she said. "I want you to finish this, child. Set me free."

"Take me to the garden," I told her.

She led us through the kitchen and out the double doors to the garden.

The night had turned dark and ugly and full of horrible sounds as the 'Bads were trying to break through Christie's shields. I had no idea what they might do if they broke into the garden, but I remembered the battle I had with my shadowy double in Redbud Valley. That was the 'Bads, taking a form that resembled me and controlled by Ammit. They had the ability to do some real damage if they had the chance.

The wind had become horrid in the garden. The flowers were being whipped around and there was a stench of rotted meat and broken hearts. Lighting flashed above us and thunder rolled darkly all about.

"What do we need to do?" April looked grim and serious. "Where's this windmill?"

I stood at the railing of the walkway and called for Cat. She popped out of her house and flitted up to where I stood.

"Are you the cause of all this?" she demanded angrily.

"No," I shouted at her, trying to be heard above the din of the thunder. "It's the Shadows... the 'Bads. Ammit is trying to stop us from getting to the windmill."

Cat crossed her arms and gave me a one-eyed glare. "So... you ARE the cause of all this."

"All right," I admitted, "if you put it that way. This is all my fault."

"Good!" She twirled in the air. "As long as you admit it! This feels like the beginnings of a good thing!"

"It sounds," Charity said, "like hell on earth."

"Yes," Cat said, "yes, it does."

I was getting impatient. "Are you going to get us to the windmill or not?"

"Sheesh," she muttered. "Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed or what?" She flitted to all of us and touched the others forehead. "You may all cross into my garden." From inside the house, there came the sound of furniture breaking. "And," she added, "you better hurry."

All of us, except Christie, stepped down into the foot high flowers and onto the little stone walkway. I turned to Christie and shouted, "Will you be safe?"

"Yes!" she shouted back. "Lawrence, no matter what form he may take, won't hurt me. Hurry!"

I saw a boiling black shape just inside the French doors of the house. I looked at Christie and shouted, "I'll be back!"

"I know you will, child," she said, hugging herself. "Now go! Find what you need and hurry!"

I turned to the pixie and said, "Let's go!"

Following Cat, we took the short steps across the garden to the gate that would take us to the windmill. Before we reached it, we heard a horrible tearing sound and turned to see Cat's house being lifted and shredded. The 'Bads had released Ammit and he and they were hot behind us, tearing hell out of the garden. Christie still stood on the walkway, untouched and unmoved. Apparently, she was right. Ammit had left her be, but the shadow and darkness boiled around her like waves crashing around a seashore.

"That'll cost you, Chester Beebe," Cat said darkly. "Not now, but someday you'll replace my house."

"Deal," I said sharply, my teeth starting to chatter. The temperature had dropped probably twenty degrees. "After this is done, okay?"

Cat nodded and flew on. We followed, trying not to look back at the destruction that was being done behind us.

Suddenly, the wind ceased and the darkness lifted a bit. It was still night, but the garden had been replaced by the wheat and wildflowers that surrounded the windmill. The mill itself stood as a tall silhouette against the night sky.

"There it is, mage," Cat said. "Go do your thing." She looked behind her and grew tense. "The shadows know the way here, now. Hurry!"

I nodded at her, curtly. I looked at the assembled crew and said, "Kids, we have to take a trip to the Otherwhere. That's where I'll find what I'm looking for."

Not waiting for a reply, I stepped onto the gravel circle that was around the windmill. "Get inside the circle, quick," I ordered them.

I bent down and scratched a quick sigil of protection in the gravel. I didn't expect it to hold very long, but long enough. Then I drew one of opening and stood up. I didn't have my staff. Damn. I thought as quickly as I could. I had never opened a Transition gate without one.

"Dammit!" I shouted my frustration. The area behind Cat had started to roil with darkness and clouds were gathering overhead.

"What's wrong?" Sherry asked.

"I don't have my staff," I complained.

"What do you need?" Chris asked, his eyes growing wide as the darkness around us grew.

"Something to pound the ground with," I told him. "I have to push my will into the earth to make this work."

"Hold on," he said, as he opened his bag. He quickly rummaged around and pulled out, from where I have no idea, a five pound sledged that look strangely like my Thor's hammer. "How 'bout this?" He offered it to me.

"Where the hell did you find this?" I took the hammer and hefted it, feeling its iron head balanced against the foot long shaft.

"I couldn't leave everything back in that warehouse, you know?" Chris grinned sheepishly at me. "It was just lying there, asking me to pick it up. So I did." Still grinning, he added, "Lucky for us, huh?"

"I don't believe in luck," I said, "but yeah. Pretty damn lucky for us."

I took the hammer and raised it as high as I could. I pushed a big bit of will into it and drove the hammer's head into the ground. The earth answered back with a violent shaking and a sound like a hundred diesel engines starting up, all at the same time. The sigils I drew on the earth shot bright blue light into the air. A green and glowing bubble formed about us, unearthly protection against the growing storm.

"Cat, you better hide!" I ordered her. I could see eyes and claws starting to come through the space behind her. "We have company!"

"Don't worry bout me, buddy," she said, flitting around the outside of the circle near us. "You just open that gate and I'll follow you there." From a pocket that she couldn't possibly have had, she pulled a six-inch sword, as long as she was and waved it at me, grinning. "Time for a little payback."

"Okay!" The noise was becoming almost unbearable, the grumbling of the earth, and the roaring of the Shadows. I pulled my will from deep inside of me and muttered a word of power. "Here we go!"

The world shifted. And looked exactly the same. Well, not exactly. The sky was violet and the wheat was dark green. I was dressed in the royal purple of a wizard's robe and the hammer had turned into a six-foot staff.

Charity had changed into her green fairy form, five feet tall, very slender, and her skin and hair were the very same grass green as the protective bubble around us. Her hair was also very long, reaching behind her to her waist and was tied back there with a golden circlet. To top it all off, she had wings. Bright green, pink, and blue gossamer wings.

Sherry became the Earth mother, wrapped in a flowing long green gown accented with soft chiffon white scarves that were wrapped from her waist, up across her breasts and down along her arms. Her chestnut hair was flowing around her head as if it was being shifted around by a wind that didn't exist. Her hazel eyes glowed with an unearthly light and every muscle on her arms were stood out in definition.

Tim was decked out as a Knight Templar, except his suit was golden and the cross on his blazer was glowing bright red. Through the eye slits in his helmet, I could see twin fires burning in his helmet. His gauntlets were serious and deadly looking, with small spikes on each knuckle. His legs were covered in the same golden chain that covered every inch of his body that wasn't covered by shining golden colored metal. His boots were made by the same wicked tailor that made the helm and gauntlets.

Crag was dressed like Tim, except his helmet was in the form of a screaming eagle, and he carried a night black mace with sharp spikes all over it. The eagle's eyes in the helmet were glowing with a dull red and his armor was the same black as his mace.

April had become her Aspect, the Goddess Diana, complete with bow and quiver. Her dark brown hair was piled up on her head in braids, and her eyes seemed to shine with an inner light and strength. Her t-shirt and jeans had been replaced with white robes and she radiated with the same majesty as Sherry did.

Chris was dressed in a leather tunic and chain leggings, and his body had become heavier and darkly tanned. His hair was black and wiry and there was a lot of it, and matched his full curly beard. Over his tunic, he wore an blacksmith's apron, long and thick leather, stained with the scars of many a forge fire. In his left hand, he carried a long spike and in his right, he held a heavy hammer.

"Cool," he said, looking down at himself. His voice had taken on a deep rumbly tone, like thunder over the mountains. "I wonder who I am?"

"You look like Hephaestus," said a voice behind us. Bob Plumb, or his shade, stood next to the windmill, which looked exactly like it had on the other side of Transition.

"Who's this guy?" Craig took a menacing step forward.

"No need to be mean," I told him. "It's Bob Plumb. Sort of."

"Oh my God!" A tiny voice popped out of nowhere. Cat flew into our little group. "You guys look fabulous! 'Specially you!" She flew over to where Charity stood. "Sister!"

Charity giggled madly and threw her hand up in the air. "Sister!" The two of them hugged, as much as a five foot fairy can hug a six inch pixie.

Cat flew up to and sat on Charity's shoulder. "What now, boss?" she asked me.

I held up my hand to the group and I turned to the shade of Bob Plumb. "You found it, didn't you? You found the eye."

"And you," he said, crossing his arms and smiling, "figured it out."

"I think so," I admitted.

"What?" Tim stepped forward. "What did you figure out? What eye?"

I turned back to the group. "This is the... um... ghost of Bob Plumb," I repeated, indicating the shade. "He died many years ago. This is more like a recording he left behind. He doesn't know what's happened since he died, but he left me a message to come find him. Or rather," I said, "the eye of Osiris. The eye can send Ammit back and trap him." I turned to the shade. "You weren't able to use the eye on Ammit?"

"No," the shade said with a trace of sadness, shaking his head negatively. I only had time to hide it before the Shadows found me and drew me into battle. As you know, Ammit killed me, and I was never able to free Andrew Lawrence."

"Andrew is gone, Bob," I told him. "Ammit has absorbed his soul and taken over his body."

The shade once again shook his head in sadness. "That's too bad," he said. "Lawrence was never a very good man, but he was a man. He might have found redemption." He sighed.

There was a sound like fingers on a chalkboard. A bright sliver of light appeared from behind us and the world cracked open. The 'Bads were starting to come through Transition.

"Bob," I said hurriedly, "I need to know where you hid the eye."

"Of course," he nodded. He pointed to the top of the windmill. "It's up there, hidden in the gear box."

Oh. Of course. I turned to Charity. "Hon, would you mind flying up there and getting it?"

"Sure," Charity said. She flapped her wings, knocking Cat off. "Um. What am I looking for?"

"At the top of the windmill," I said, "there's a box. You'll need to take the top of the box off and you should see a bit of gold wrapped around a jewel that flashes blue and green." I looked at Bob's shade. "Right?"

"Absolutely," he nodded. "She might need a tool to open the box though. It's been up there a very long time."

"Here," Chris offered. He held out a sharp blade, about seven inches long.

"No need," Cat piped in. "I've got my sword! No lock can stand up to it." She flitted up the leg of the windmill and stopped, halfway up. "Come on, Sis! I can unlock it, but you have to get it. I can't touch iron, you know."

"Oh," Charity said, pouting. "Neither can I. That makes me sad." She put on her fairly sad face, which would have been funny any place and any time other than now, when the shadows were about through the gateway.

"Okay," Chris said. "I'll go." He looked back to where the 'Bads were pouring through the gate. "I think you guys better fight." He shoved his hammer into his apron and planted the spike in the ground at the base of the windmill and started to climb. He turned back to look at me. "Don't make my first time a disappointment, okay?"

I nodded at him. "You just get the eye, Chris. We've got your back." I turned to the group. "Sherry, you, Charity and Cat protect Chris. You know the 'Bads can fly, and so can you. Tim, you take the left flank, Craig, the right. April, you stand with me."

As they took their positions, I turned to the shade of Bob Plumb. "What about you?"

He shrugged, that old shrug I remembered from a hundred years back, all lanky arms and shoulders. "I'm done, son. You know what you're doing, and you have it under control. I'm proud of you." And with a sad smile, and a quick wave, Bob Plumb, all that was left of him, faded out like the end of a movie.

"I'm gonna miss that guy," I said, "again." I found I had a tear in my eye, but there wasn't any time for that. The battle was on.