Chasing the Moon

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Greg stood before the small banquet. He didn’t like standing behind a podium, saying it distanced him from his audience, triggering sense memories of long, dull lectures that a lifetime had taught most people to tune out. But Greg had a message to spread, the good word, and for all his faults, for all his smarminess, all his one-dimensional eagerness, he was a believer. That was what bothered Calvin the most about Greg.

He believed.

Over the millennia Calvin had been associated with many people like Greg. The words might change, the setting might differ, but it was all the same. Where once mortals whispered the secret names of unfathomable things in shadowy temples or sacred grottos, they now did so at invitation-only brunches or casual pool parties. Most people who wanted to touch the unknown were drawn to it like moths to a bug zapper. They didn’t know why, and they weren’t usually smart enough to wonder about it until it was too late.

But Greg believed. He was that rare breed of human capable of understanding a vast universe in which he was just a mote of dust, and not being driven into a deep depression or raving lunacy by that knowledge. It helped that he had a direct pipeline to something bigger than his tiny universe, but even in this Greg wasn’t fooling himself. He didn’t believe that Fenris cared about him or that, when the time came, the monster-god chasing the moon would even notice him. He only wanted to get what he could from Fenris while he could get it, and it wasn’t greed or fear that compelled him. It was the belief that this was the best a mortal could hope for, and that it was his duty to share that information with his fellow specks of dust and help as many as he could, because he was a humanitarian. And Calvin wasn’t so certain he disagreed.

Greg’s intentions were noble, and he was merely using the tools of his time to spread the word. Calvin still didn’t like him, and he was looking forward to the cataclysm. Even if whatever waited for Calvin beyond wasn’t worth going to, at least he could avoid these brunches.

He sat at the big table in front of the audience, meaning he had to at least pretend to be listening. It was fortunate Sharon was there to prod him every time he appeared bored.

“Hey,” said Greg to his listeners, “do you want to be the best you you can be? Of course you do! We all do!”

He smiled. His teeth were so perfect and white that they made him look like an artificial being designed specifically for the purpose of smiling, like a toothpaste-pushing robot residing on the precipice of the uncanny valley.

“My friends, a change is coming. A change to this world, a primal revelation, is about to unfold, and believe me, in the new world, how much money you have won’t matter. Civilization is an illusion, a delicate gossamer fantasy that will not stand.”

Calvin slouched in his chair. He’d heard the speech dozens of times, had every nuance committed to memory. He even had a habit of mouthing silently along without realizing it.

Sharon nudged him with her elbow under the table. They conversed in a series of quick glances. It wasn’t telepathic. They’d just had the exchange so many times that saying it aloud was unnecessary.

Stop that, she said with a raised eyebrow.

Nobody cares, he replied with a furrowed brow.

She pursed her lips, nodded toward the audience. We’re sitting in front of people. Sit up straight and try not to look as if you’re bored out of your skull.

But I am bored out of my skull.

Sharon’s face went b. He hated that. He also hated that she was right. Greg didn’t ask for much, and in return he gave Calvin a nice place to live, money, and Sharon to take care of all of life’s little annoyances. Calvin didn’t need these things, but while he was trapped in this world they certainly made his life easier. He’d spent the Dark Ages hiding in a cave. Time had just dragged on and on and on. Video games, movies, books, and other distractions helped to pass the time at least.

He straightened. Smiling, she adjusted his collar.

“The end is coming,” said Greg. “Sooner than anyone thinks. But it isn’t an end. It’s really a beginning, and each of you here has the chance to be a part of it.”

He sprang thirty feet across the room, landing on a table with a silent catlike grace. The audience gasped, and a smattering of applause filled the banquet hall.

“No, please, please.” He waved away the clapping. “What I just did, there’s nothing special about it. I’ve merely unlocked the potential within myself, the potential within all of us. In the new world, power, real physical power, is what will decide where you stand and who you stand with.”

He backflipped into a handstand. He shifted his weight, balancing on one hand.

“You’re here because we believe that you have a place with us, because when the time comes we will be the new power to shepherd in the new age. We will be ready. And you will be ready with us.”

Greg dismounted from the table. He loosened his tie and strode back to the front of the room with a slow, easy grace. The walk had just a hint of confident swagger. He stopped in a feigned spontaneous moment and touched an old man on the shoulder.

“Come with me, Mr. Francis. I have something wonderful to share with you.”

Greg led Francis to the front of the room.

“How would you like to feel better than you have in years? Better, in fact, than you have ever felt in your life?”

He hesitated just long enough to give Francis the chance to reply, but interrupted just as he opened his mouth.

“Of course you would. We all would. There is a secret buried in these bones of yours, and it is a secret we are about to unleash.”

He nodded toward Calvin.

“That’s my cue,” mumbled Calvin, pushing away from the table.

Sharon winked. “Knock ’em dead.”

“Mr. Francis, I’d like you to meet a very special person,” said Greg. “Don’t let his appearance fool you. Our friend Calvin is nothing less than a god, and his merest touch will reveal the glorious future awaiting all of us in this room.”

Calvin forced a smile. Not too big. He was supposed to be inscrutable, an unknowable force. He extended his hand. Francis took it. A charge passed from Calvin to the gray-haired man. Francis clapsed in a twitching heap on the stage. The crowd gasped.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

Greg didn’t miss a beat. “Relax, friends. This is perfectly usual. Weakness leaves the body reluctantly, but in a moment, you’ll see a wonderful change in Mr. Francis.”

He glanced at Calvin, who shrugged.

Greg helped Francis to his feet. “Can we get some water for our friend here?” He chuckled. “Can you feel it? Can you sense the power within?”

Francis’s wild eyes rattled around in his head, and he gnashed his teeth. He pulled away from Greg, and confusion and rage fell across his face. He was a wild animal, disoriented and baffled by the world around him. A low growl escaped his throat, and he coiled in preparation to spring on Greg.

Greg remained calm. In different circumstances he would’ve just punched Francis until dominance was established. This crowd wasn’t ready for that. They needed to dip their feet into the savage future, one toe at a time.

With his back to the audience, Greg furrowed his brow and bared his teeth. His eyes went a bright red and glinted with barely concealed savage fury. His teeth grew into fangs. He allowed the wicked claws to extend from one hand, hidden from the crowd. He snarled and took a single threatening step toward Francis.

It was risky. It was possible that Francis would meet the challenge for alpha status head-on. While Greg had nothing to fear if challenged, the crowd would’ve probably lost interest in what he had to offer. That wouldn’t make much difference, but Greg would be disappointed.

Francis proved to be all bark. He cowered before Greg, and the animal within retreated. When Greg held out his hand, Francis took it and stood.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s fine. Everything is just fine.” Greg chuckled, patted Francis on the back. “So tell me. How do you feel now?”

“Much better.” Francis bounced on his toes. “Better than I have felt in years, actually.” He stretched. “And my back… it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Wonderful, isn’t it?”

One of Greg’s minions sneaked up and knelt behind Francis. Greg planted both hands on Francis’s chest.

“It gets better.”

Greg gave Francis a shove. The older man stumbled over the minion, but rather than fall flat on his back he flipped over, landing on his feet. Eyes wide, he laughed.

“Marvelous!”

Francis performed a few tentative jumps. With each bounce he sprang a few more feet in the air until he was nearly reaching the ceiling. Then he ran forward, grabbed one of the large banquet tables, and hoisted it over his head.

“Absolutely marvelous!”

His body shook with laughter as he jogged around the room, still carrying the table.

“Yes,” agreed Greg, addressing his audience. “Marvelous is exactly the right word. Not miraculous. Because this isn’t a miracle. Miracles are capricious. Miracles pick and choose without rhyme or reason by forces on high, but I am offering each and all of you a chance to be part of the new age.”

At this point Calvin usually thought about the conglomeration of decaying flesh and bones that was the human species, and how they’d learned to live with that, given no other choice. They might comfort themselves with magical thinking, pretending that the universe was made just for them, or at the very least convincing themselves that they were an important and vital part of a vast cosmos. But most of them didn’t honestly believe this, even with the benefit of miserably short lives and wholly ineffective perceptions of a universe more complicated and fantastic than they could ever comprehend.

He’d usually follow this by contemplating his lot. From a cosmological perspective he was a far greater being than anything born in this humble nook of reality. He was immortal and privy to truths the human race would probably never be ready for. But he was still just as much a prisoner as anyone in this room, on this world, in this universe. And after all of them were dead and gone, he’d still be here, tangled in a reality that held him in its unbreakable embrace. That this universe was no happier with the situation than he only made it more annoying. It seemed no one, not the humans, Calvin, Fenris, not the smallest grain of sand nor the universe itself had any control over its fate.

The realization, one that Calvin had had countless times before, never ceased to annoy him.

This time that chain of thought was derailed by Francis’s boisterous, increasingly frenzied laughter. It walked on the edge of madness as he dashed around the room like a man possessed. Greg was too deep into his routine to notice, and it wasn’t unusual for the sudden influx of power to fill the recipient with glee. This was different. Francis was losing control.

He flipped a table over, sending its contents flying in every direction. He seized a woman and pulled her roughly to him and planted a kiss on her worthy of a lusty pirate from a romance novel.

“Now see here,” said the woman’s husband, rising to defend his wife’s honor.

Francis punched him in the face, breaking his jaw. He threw aside the woman like a forgotten prize and eyed the room like a caged animal let loose on the world. In his primitive perception everything boiled down to fight or flight, and the rage in his contorted face told everyone which option he’d chosen.

He ripped out of his skin, changing into a hulking, four-armed beast with a caricature of a head that was nothing but a set of massive jaws and flesh-ripping teeth.

Like a whirling typhoon of destruction Francis charged through the banquet hall, smashing and clawing at anything and everything within reach. There were screams. Screams and blood. And brutal, merciless savagery that was thankfully cut short when sing of the established temple members burst into their own savage forms and pounced upon the mad Francis.

Calvin just watched, transfixed by the sight. The primal order Greg had preached was here, and the humans found themselves in the unwilling role of prey. At least six or seven were dead or nearly dead, having been attacked in the few moments Francis had run amok. Others cowered in absolute terror or ran, shrieking, out of the building.

This was the future of humanity.

The cult members dragged Francis before Calvin. Though they were every bit as strong as Francis, he was the more primitive, more furious soul, and they were having a hell of a time keeping him under control. He flailed and snapped, growled and hissed. It was mesmerizing. Calvin wondered if this was all because of what he’d put into the human, or if the human had had this inside all along and Calvin had only given it permission to arise. Was civilization humanity’s creation? Or humanity’s lie? He had no way of knowing.

“Well don’t just stand there,” said Greg. “Do something.”

Calvin stepped toward the snarling Francis. Calvin was invulnerable and immortal, but he found himself put off by Francis’s savage frenzy. He put his hand on Francis’s muzzle and felt the jump of power. Except it was going the wrong way. Francis doubled in size and cast off the beasts constraining him. He grabbed one of the cultists in a hand and bit her in half.

The other beasts jumped back. Everyone but Calvin. The giant creature that had been Francis leaned forward and snorted. It screeched at Calvin, who let its rancid breath wash over him. Bits of blood, fur, and gore splattered his face.

Calvin had nothing to fear, and without fear to feed it the creature was confused. It sniffed curiously at him. He put a hand on its nose and smiled.

“Sit.”

The monster did as commanded.

“Good boy.”

He gave it one more reassuring pat on the muzzle. For now the creature was dominated, but there was only one way to get it out of Francis. It had to be scared out, reminded of its place in the cosmic order.

“Sorry about this.”

Calvin laid an uppercut across Francis’s face. Several giant teeth were knocked loose, and the creature tumbled over with a stifled whimper. It shrank into its human form.

“What the hell was that?” asked Greg.

“I don’t know,” said Calvin. “Something went wrong.” Greg kept his voice calm and steady, as always, but an edge danced around his enunciations. “Brilliant. Something went wrong. That’s your explanation, is it? Something went wrong. Do you know how hard this will be to clean up? And this isn’t going away on its own.”

Calvin’s destructive influence on reality was rarely permanent. Sometimes a few small things slipped through, but for the most part, as a foreign element, his corrosivepower was quickly countered by the universe’s innate dislike of his unnatural presence. But occasionally the universe was fooled into accepting the damage. Usually by a secondary agent slipping under the radar. Francis must have qualified as that agent.

And now people were dead.

Calvin didn’t know how to handle that. He’d been walking on this planet for a long, long time, but he’d rarely been responsible for the death of anyone. And in most of those cases the death and destruction had been impermanent, shadows edited out of existence.

But these people were staying dead, and in the very near future they’d be the lucky ones.