Yes, it would be quite all right if that never happened again. Except that, as everything faded to black, Hypo had time to be distantly amazed at the feeling of déjà vu...
* * *
A new thought wafted through his foggy mind: "Hypo, old boy, you made it into Heaven!" He mused over this for a moment, to see if it could fit with his religious convictions; it was a little difficult to remember, for amoment, what his convictions were. At least he was pretty sure about his name.
Trying to clear the fog, he grasped at the last moments he could remember. Let's see: stab, stab, parry, dodge, ow, ow, ow, OW, shiiiiiit. Yep, he was dead. Then, darkness.
Wait... He thought he could faintly remember the echo of a voice calling as he sank through darkness, the feather-like touch of someone reaching for him. The face of that stuck-up Brit and the muzzle of the talking dog briefly superimposed over the darkness, a sound like the clamour of a distant army, then everything receding again. Then this.
Finally, he had to admit to himself that a lump in the earth was making his rest increasingly uncomfortable. Apparently this can happen in Paradise too. Gingerly, he sat up, but his body bore no signs of the Turbanites' attentions. His sitting position allowed him a better view of his surroundings. The blue-green green waves of an unnamed ocean, crested with plumes of white foam, were breaking on the beach at the foot of the bluffs he sat on. The beach was nested in a small cove to the right of the bluffs.
Carefully, Hypo got to his feet (no pain!) and looked around. The landscape was cheery, green, and tropical. Not far inland he could see a line of palm trees that marked the edge of a jungle. The breeze was refreshing but the sun seemed warm. He slowly turned around, until his eyes met with something unusual. From the far side of the bluff, to his left as he faced the ocean, a baroque construction was silhouetted against the sky, perhaps a kilometer or two away. This thing looks like a lovecraftian monument, erected as part of a collaboration between Salvador Dali, Imhotep, Gustave Eiffel, and Hast'yr. A melding of dolmen, ziggurat, cathedral, mosk, and abbattoir, it boasts cupolas, minarets, turrets, pinions, gargoyles, dragons, belfries, and balconies. Maybe one of Hypo's compatriots has decided to embrace an architectural career? It's hard to judge its true size because of the eerie geometry, but the contraption seems big.
As Hypo glances at the thing and the rest of the area, a low buzzing starts in his ear. He scratches his ear, shakes his head, but the buzzing seems to increase rather than go away; in fact, it seems to be inside his head rather than in his ear. At first it seems to be just noise, but then resolves into faint words uttered by a pleasant female voice.
"...are there! ...thought I'd lost you. ...your friends from the building... name is Delimah. ...coming your way any minute... ...talk to you..." The words trail off into an unintelligible murmur, then in silence. As he strains to make out the last of this, Hypo becomes conscious of a low, subliminal hum that is actually drwoning out the voice. It's hard to determine whether the hum was there all along or has just started, because it hovers just at the edge of cousciousness.
As he scratches his head, contemplating the puzzles of afterlife, his eye catches yet one more detail. A small embarcation, a bright green sail boat, is rounding the bluff where the Contraption stands, and is making its way towards the Hypo. After a moment, he can make out three small figures on the boat, although only one seems to be busy trimming the sail and steering the boat. The boat rapidly approaches the small cove, then makes landfall.
Hypo gets a better view of the passengers. Stepping from the boat, he recognizes the Limey and the Talking Dog! At the helm, though... Well, it's a bit hard to be sure from this distance, but it looks an awful lot like an anthropomorphic bird, that is, a man-sized creature, bipedal, with bird feet, a bird's head, and wings for arms although apparently dextrous enough to hold the tiller and reef the sails. Dressed in a chequered shirt and white pants, for good measure.
Hypo blinks several times, then he puts on his reading glasses, then he tries his panzer commander goggles.
As none of this changes what he is seeing he tries an impressive conversational gambit. "Hey.....er.......what?" He then glances at his watch to check the time.
The mysterious voice does not (cannot?) answer, but the hum goes on humming. Down on the beach, the three little silhouettes seem to be exchanging a few words, and do not appear to notice Hypo. Some equipment changes hands - er, wings... paws... aw, heck.
Hypo in a fit of giddiness shouts out "Woof woof bark woof, grrr! Barkbarkbark, rowlff bark?"
Woofard's head whips around. Hypo, seeing that Woofard has heard, jumps up and down waves his arms and starts running towards the dog. A half formed thought saying to him that since everything is so odd, the reality of a talking dog is like a sheltered harbor in a fierce storm.
Hypo does not dwell on the inherent contradictions here because that would cause him to actually start thinking and this is not the time for that!
Woofard's eyes find the movement, where the sound had come from. His jaw drops as he takes in the sight of Hypo rushing towards them. Still stunned, he looks at Nigel, as the shock hits him hard. Woofard remembers how he last saw the odd junk-man: laying dead in a puddle of his own blood. The reality of the situation becomes concrete. All this talk of death before was just a clever exercise to some people eating sandwiches at a garden party, but if Hypo is here... they really must be dead. His legs can't support him as he makes this realization, he sinks to the sand and desperately tries to convince himself he's not really dead.
Nigel stares in stunned disbelief as the same realization hit him. He tries to compose himself, and is moderately successful. "Greetings my good fellow, I must say my companion and I are a little taken aback at your appearance. We were under the impression that you had 'passed on' so to speak. What brings you to this construct? And do you have any information about the large mass over there? The one exuding all the unpleasantness? We are tasked with exploring it, and any information you could provide would be extremely helpful."
"Well, I, um... just got here myself. I was going to have a closer look at that architectural sampler plate, but then I saw you. So we're dead, eh? Sine Vita? Not at all what I expected..."
Woofard's mind flips the possibilities over to consider the opposite of the situation. If what the cat-lady said was correct, then maybe there would be a chance to save the junkman as well. Instead of everybody being dead, perhaps they could all get free. And what about Marda?
"No, well maybe..." replies Woofard to the question, "I don't know. I don't think we're either quite dead, or quite alive. I'd bet our fates are balanced on whatever we do while we're.... where ever here is. At least that's the way the folks we've met so far seemed to be thinking."
Woofard, gets to his feet again. He turns to face the new comer once more. This time his expression is more hopeful. "Have you seen Marda? The little girl we were with at the shop?"
"By the Heaps!" Hypo shouts. "Are you telling me those scumbags got her too?!"
Woofard considers, and then says, "I...don't think so. I hope not. I think if none of us have seen her wandering around here... this place, she's probably ok. That is, not dead. There's a whole lot of other trouble she could be in right now. We need to get this task done, and see about getting the Hell... um, poor choice of words, but we need to get out of here."
"I hope she is all right," says Hypo, "if we get back we will have to see about rackin some Zeros."
Woofard looks upland at the pile of stuff they are here to check out. Looking at the thing gives him the creeps. It is like an architecture of madness. "Are you guys up for a little hike?"
Hypo nods. "Abo. What does your sniffer tell you about the place? Is there an aura of implacable evil? This is one of those rare times I wish I was black, although here it might not matter."
Woofard stares at Hypo a moment. He looks towards Nigel to see if the Brit understood what the Hell the newcomer was saying. Understanding the sniffer reference, he shrugged and took a sniff, all the while doubting it would do any good. He starts doing his best impersonation of a hunting dog. He sniffs the air tentatively, turns around in circles, sticks his nose to the ground and starts sniffing for trails. He zigzags for a few minutes, his tail wagging involuntarily. Finally, he stops and his ears prick up.
"Woof," says Woofard. He doesn't bark. He says the word. "Well guys, I think we got trouble. That thing up there reeks of religiosity: incense, candles, holy smoking bananas, all that kind of crap. And there's a sound, kind of a buzzing from here, but it sounds like it will resolve into voices, probably praying, or singing that music from 'The Omen'. Not too surprising, looking at that damn thing, but there is another scent that worries me." He turns towards Nigel, "Didn't the Catwoman say we'd be in deep doodoo if this thing had anything to do with Queen-Pope-President's daughter? I'll admit I don't know her scent, but there is a distintive perfume flavor oozing through all that religious hoodoo crap stinkin' up the place."
"Ah, do you mean Cheryl D'Aubainne? Because that will explain a lot about what you sense up there," says the ever lovin' garbage man.
"Well," replies Woofard, "that's who we were warned about. If this is really her scent, I can't tell ya. I've never met the woman. I can tell ya that it doesn't smell like that woman... er, man... er... whatever, that we ran into at that cafe, that was supposed to be El Presidente herself." Woofard stands. "Well, you guys wanna go ahead and walk up there, so we can see what the Hell is going on? Sooner started, sooner finished."
"Of course." Hypo then checks his kit to make sure his sword and other implements are still there. "So you met our exalted ruler, eh?"
Woofard shoots a look at Nigel. "I don't really think so. The smell was wrong. A little more of the ole' testosteroni than one would have expected in Madam President." He starts to lope up the hill.
Nigel shakes his head as he follows after his four-legged friend. "No, I believe you would know her scent if you got a whiff of it again. I believe that what we have here is a true unknown. We should tread lightly my friends, we know not what may await us." Nigel stared thoughtfully at the 'unknown entity' while making his way steadily towards it.
Hypo starts up the hill.
It's a couple of kilometers' walk to the thing, so they also get to enjoy the religious version of "Number Nine." As they approach, the babel-like confusion of hymns, prayers, rituals and what have you becomes louder, though none clearer. Various musical instruments can beheard: strings, taiko drums, fifes, didgideroos, bells, and other less readily identifiable. There is also the occasional faint scream of what sounds like inhuman agony, which does nothing to improve the general mood.
As described by Dee and Saul, there is a gaping hole of solid blackness at the foot of the tower. Even as they approach, the three intrepid explorers can see that the sunshine does nothing to dispell the gloom there. They also notice that despite the fact that the noise level is gradually increasing, it never becomes more than a background tapestry of sounds, never loud enough to make conversation difficult.
"Ya know, we were gonna put one of thses in our backyard," says Woofard as the take in the monstrosity up close. "Kind of like a combination bird bath and feeder. We gave it up because we couldn't get the sound this good. Lucas wouldn't give us a license to use THX sound."
Neither can they see anyone around. Whoever is doing all this dueling chanting remains well out of sight.
Woofard sniffs around a bit. "I smell lots of folks, but not out here. As near as I can tell, we're the only ones out here."
As they get close to the base of the pillar and the edge of the black hole, the world seems to shift sideways for a moment, as if refracted through a crystal of poor quality. The three visitors suffer a brief wave of nausea, then a blinding flash of light strikes the base of the pillar.
At least temporarily deprived of sight, Woofard is extremely alarmed. He tries to focus through his semse of smell and hearing to prepare to defend against anyone trying to take advantage of their vulnerability.
Woofard goes to ground, while Nigel and Hypo stand in place, befuddled. All three are temporarily blind, but of course Woofard can depend on his other keen senses. After a long moment, though nothing else happens and they slowly regain their sight.
At the base of the pillar, where the dark hole begins, a new statue has now taken place amidst the rest of the mismatched architectural details. It is a marble representation of a male, larger-than-life (if he was an ordinary human male) and of heroic proportions, surrounded by a whole flock of angels, cherubs, thrones (look it up), and other winged thingies carrying laurels above his noble head. The new god is wearing a set of work boots, coveralls, and a respirator dangles from his neck, unused. There's some sort of tank on his back, held on by shoulder straps, and a hose runs from the tank to some sort of nozzle in his hand. He handles the nozzle as though it were a shotgun, pointing at some unseen enemy in the distance. His face is daunting and imperious, a fact not entirely due to the hard stone in which it is carved, but also to the expression it carries.
In the background, the quasi-subliminal hum has a new tone of satisfaction and smugness, as if pleased with the new ornament on the façade of the Mass Pit.
Hypo peers at the statue. He is a lifetime resident of the island and is known to be a keen observer. "Ya know, I think it is time to find the doorbell of this place"
Nigel stares intently at the new facade. "Do either of you recognize this likeness? I have no idea what this is supposed to signify, unless this man is some sort of 'Holy Exterminator', whatever the hell THAT would mean."
Woofard stares at this new statute for a long while, turning his head from side to side. "Ya know, if I didn't know better, I'd say that guy looked sorta like an exterminator that helped Marda and me out when we were being attacked by giant rats. Throp and Morty's Exterminators... something like that. He must be Throp, cuz he don't look like a Morty." Woofard looks towards Nigel, "You remember? The guy that brought us to you and, that dip, Sam? Hey, did you hoo-doo that guy?"
Woofard wonders if this is a coincidence, or if this monstrosity is somehow reacting to their presence.
Woofard's words help jog Hypo's memory. Throckmorton, not Throp and Morty's. That's the name of that exterminator guy, whose never been that friendly -- considering their lifestyles and occupations are at odds -- with the Garbagemen. But to get his very own statue in this multi-pantheon? He's never acted like anything but a working stiff.
Nigel tries to get his bearings, and to see if he can 'sense' whatever it is that is at the bottom of this construct. He concentrates intently on the face of the statue "Ahem, Hello there. Might my friends and myself inquire as to your identity? We are here purely on a fact-finding mission, and would be interested in discussing your origins..."
From the way it appeared there, one can certainly suppose that this is an extraordinary statue, of a nature unlike any mundane statue the three visitors have ever met. However, inasmuch as it stubbornly refuses to answer when addressed, it behaves much like any other marble sculpture.
Woofard shrugs, "It was a nice try any way." He says sincerely. He walks around the pillar, examining it all around, sniffing as well. "Now what? We aren't gonna have to go into the hole, are we?"
"Yes, it looks like we do. Andubita!" Hypo steps into the hole.
"Bocce balls!" exclaims Woofard, stunned by Hypo's sudden, potentially suicidal, action.
As Nigel and Woofard watch, somewhat appalled, Hypo flings himself into the dark hole-heartedly. Neither of the pair seems particularly inclined to follow, so the hole obligingly closes after a moment.
The very instant that the hole snaps shut, the giant statue swings into smooth motion, almost as though it had been capable of movement all along, awaiting only the signal to do so. The huge, imperious face breaks into a huge, imperious smile of satisfaction as the gigantic nozzle swings around and down until it is pointing at the pair, who find themselves looking down a black hole of a different nature in the instant before the massive stone figure depresses a trigger.
Nigel and Woofard only just have time enough to hear the disembodied voice of Dee say something along the lines of "Eep!" at the same instant Saul says something like "What...?!" before they are enveloped completely in a massive cloud of choking, corrosive gas that eats its way though their pores, their eyes, their nasal passages, sending instant overwhelming signals of white hot agony down every nerve to explode in their brains. Despite the overwhelming agony, death is not immediate, though muscles refuse to obey even the command to scream, much less any attempt to flee. The agony goes on and on and on as the pair collapse to lie twitching and spasming.
Like bugs.
Just like bugs.
To Be Continued...