The California Voodoo Game

32

Friday, July 22, 2059 2:12 P.M.

Al the Barbarian heard a sort of magnified gurgle. His nimble fingers froze, then tucked his nearly finished weapon into a plastic bag in his day pack. Al's guilty conscience would have flinched at any sound. Someone must have seen! He was doing black voodoo here.

He twisted the bag and sealed it, one-handed. The floor was singing against his bare feet. Other Gamers were listening for a gurgle that was becoming a roar The surface of the pool lurched down by six inches, as if the bottom had been ripped out.

The water foamed and churned hideously, and a gigantic whirlpool formed. Beach boys and bunnies thrashed toward the nearest ladders and were dragged down, drowning.

In Engineering, a team of experts led by Ashly Mgui-Smythe oversaw the massive water dump. Sluice vents fanned open at MIMIC's base. Thousands of gallons a second flooded out onto the desert floor.

When supports for the tenth level's sliding floor were withdrawn, the Gamers fell down into the ninth, also half-filled with water. Every object they could possibly bump into was either soft, slick, rounded, or all three. The net effect was like spinning down a three-story water slide.

Their howls of consternation rang through the speakers in Engineering, and the visual effect was horrendous. What remained of the floor looked as though it had been torn away by giant claws.

Mgui-Smythe popped a beer open and saluted, wishing them luck.

Griffin hit the water fast, but not hard, guided down safely by a chute of torn floor. He was planning the murder of Tony McWhirter. As a first step he righted himself, blew air to clean out his mouthpiece, and thrashed three hundred and sixty degrees in the water, searching for enemies.

Floating near him was a Nommo in its flat-catfish shape. The ugly creature seemed almost helplessly dazed, but not too badly injured.

Twan had regained her equilibrium fast and had screamed out a spell. A golden halo of protection surrounded her as she splashed to keep afloat.

Where was Bishop? There, floating on his side. Griffin swam over to him and helped him right himself. Water poured from Bishop's half-open mouth. His eyes rolled back, eyelashes fluttering weakly.

"Good going," Bishop whispered. "We'll make a Gamer of you yet." Shamming for the camera, dammit.

Splash!

Alex bobbed around in the water and saw the ripple, but nothing else. Something was in there with them.

Some of the Nommo had seen it, too. Those less dazed were changing from that flat-catfish shape into dolphin mode, from tool user to fighter.

The water exploded, and driving up from the depths came a creature of nightmare, twenty feet of pseudocrocodile, an abomination stitched together from human arms and legs, a patchwork monstrosity with great black liquid eyes and jagged mosaic teeth. A grinder, a destroyer, something that belonged in no world that knew the light of reason.

It had a Nommo in its mouth. Its mutant dolphin shape writhed and streamed blood and screamed in supersonic agony. The grotesque teeth clamped shut. The Nommo was sliced into two; its tail fell in a dreadful hail of viscera.

The surviving Nommo formed a barrier between the croc-thing and the human beings. They screamed, a high-pitched, keening noise, and the beast recoiled in seeming pain. The magic of the Nommo, even if merely defensive, was mighty.

But if the Mayombreros could create one such beast, why not…

Bishop had reached the same conclusion at the same moment. "Defend yourselves!" he screamed. Twan was momentarily frozen, watching the display.

A floor and a half above, their compatriots gaped down at them. And one, Tammi, screamed urgently to Twan, "Behind you!"

A zombie croc rose dripping from the water behind Twan. This one was an undead were-beast, closer to human size, but it looked as deadly as its giant cousin. It chomped at Twan's defensive shield and actually ripped a hole in it.

A dolphin-Nommo smacked into its flank, an animated torpedo, and flitted away before the monster's tail could snap around. In that instant of distraction Twan raised her hands defensively. Golden energy poured from her palms into the hole in her defences.

"Salt!" Bishop screamed. "Dammit, get some salt down here!"

The water level on the ninth floor was dropping slowly but steadily. Partition fences and statuary began to rise like Lemuria from the deep. The walls of the lagoon were laced with ladders and catwalks, making it easy for their companions to descend.

As the water level dropped, it turned black and oily. The Nommo still held the gigantic creature at bay. Now Griffin could see their magical blockade more clearly: it resembled a curtain of glowing jellyfish, a living barrier to the horrid teeth and claws.

Bishop was unarmed but hardly defenceless: he screamed, "Gods! Give me fire!" and a man-crocodile was struck with a devastating wall of flame. It rolled back under the surface, smoke curling from its cracked and sizzling skin.

"Look out!" That was a woman's voice from above them. Tammi plunged into the water carrying a sword in either hand. "Here!" she yelled as soon as she had her balance, and tossed one to Griffin. He delighted himself by catching its hilt; he saluted her and plunged into the fray.

Tammi fought like a whirlwind, cleaving her way through an army of demon crocs to reach Twan's side. Griffin fought his way toward them.

Sudden turbulence behind him. He spun in time to see a black, scaly shape writhing through the water. Before it could strike, there was a thudding sound: one of the Nommo had attacked, butting with lethal force. Their magic might have been merely defensive, but their physical power was stunning. The undead man-croc burst asunder.

The Nommo danced up out of the water, trilling with glee.

Splash. General Poule was in the water, and then Clavell. Crocodile shapes were rising everywhere now, and Twan screamed shrilly and vanished underwater for an instant, then Bobbed to the surface again and struggled to reach Tammi. She screamed out something Griffin couldn't quite hear, another spell, but this time the golden glow of her barrier barely showed.

Griffin slashed at a croc. His sword passed through the beast without really damaging it. Already dead, he thought. It turned on him, gaping, and he flailed with his blade. Holes don't hurt it. Cut parts off. Hack, don't thrust. It surged over him like a mountain of spoiled meat, and he threw himself to the side as its jaws snapped at him

Then it rolled over onto its back and was still.

Spitting water, he saw Top Nun, half a story above them and crouching on a landing. She was holding hands with Cipher, casting spells of protection around Acacia, who screamed, "Panthesilea is here!" flexed her knees, and dove glowing into the water.

Two crocs went after her, but their teeth couldn't reach her, their tails couldn't flail her and she sang her Warrior song, sword flickering too rapidly for sight to follow.

Captain Cipher cast handfuls of white powder out from the heights.

Salt.

It was killing the zombie crocodiles. They were melting. They actually disintegrated, losing both human and amphibian characteristics in the same dreadful moments.

Twan gasped for breath, spitting water and losing her concentration for a moment.

A hulking, blackly malevolent shape rose behind her and dragged her down. She surfaced a few feet away, screaming, then went down and under again.

She was being dragged backward in the water faster than any of them could swim, and although they tried, the next time she went down…

She stayed down.

Mouser, high on a ladder above them, screamed, "Twan!" and splashed into the water after her. He didn't get five strokes before vanishing himself.

Tammi seemed frozen with indecision. Then she plunged into the murky water and swam to the spot where Mouser had disappeared. She came up, cast about, and dove down again. And stayed down.

The carcasses of the zombie crocs floated, partially eaten away by salt. In places the water had drained almost to the floor. Chairs, tables, and ancient lighting fixtures rose up like ghosts of the deep.

In the deeper water, the seven surviving Nommo swam back and forth, or crawled painfully onto furniture in their human form, shivering with exhaustion. They had lost much manna, and they knew it. The black-white woman who had lectured the Gamers seemed to be deep in shock.

Above them, at the eleventh floor, dozens of beach people stared down at them, faces paled with fear.

One of the Nommo danced upright and spoke to them. "The Mayombrero are more powerful than we dreamed," he said. "They have learned to feed the Ethereals power from the reactor. They have learned necromantic secrets beyond our knowledge. They will cut off our water, and we will die."

"No," Griffin said, surprised to hear his own voice. "We can get through them and shut down that reactor long enough to weaken their creatures. Would that give you the opportunity you need?"

Bishop's contempt was a pressure on Alex's skin. He said nothing and Alex thought he had a point. I'm an NPC, dammit. Let them play.

Several of the Nommo consulted. Then they turned back. "That may be the only chance that we have. Otherwise they will destroy us, and after us, the upper levels…"

Into Alex's pointed silence, Bishop said, "They'd control the whole building. We can't allow that."

Tammi burst up from the slime, spewing water, sobbing with the effort to draw air into her lungs. Her bodybuilder muscles were slack, and glistened with muck. "They're dead," she said disbelievingly. "They're both gone." In her hand she held Mouser's pack. It was torn and bloodied, but she hugged it to her chest, eyes casting about uncertainly.

The Nommo nodded kindly. "Come," they said. "Show us the talismans you have earned so dearly."

Acacia beckoned to Cipher, who had carried her pack down from poolside. She sloshed back and presented the jagged club from Ile Ife, the Staff of Oranyan. Captain Cipher presented his chillum pipe. Mary-em simply waddled forward; her tummy glowed with the life within.

And finally, Tammi peeled open Mouser's bloodied pack as if ripping out an enemy's heart. She brought forth Oggun's Necklace, and…

The Nommo crown.

There was a moment's pause during which no one spoke, no one moved. So, said Bishop's silent lips. Acacia's eyes glittered greedily.

"The crown," the Nommo said reverently. "With it, you can all function as one family, one mind and heart. You cannot survive in contention. Do you understand?"

They nodded.

"Then this is what you must do…"