Ch 16

“Let's Get this party started!” Louden shouted, and her DJ friend started up the music at the exact moment the sun set. It wasn't an enormous party, but it wasn't small either, nearly eighty people had shown up, including Ben and his friends. The DJ was on top of things, catchy electronic music that could only be classified as meme-wave was blasted as loudly as his generator operated speakers could blast.

Ben, for his part, had indeed brought the 'wagon of cabbage' that Vaughan requested, a gallon bag full of smaller bags, each containing either loose bud or pre-rolled joints. Ben hadn't started smoking yet, but the air was thick with it; everybody present had a contact high. Off in the distance, Louden was selling her pills, and looked to be ready to eat anything she couldn't pawn off at a thousand percent markup. In a moment of clarity, Ben realized she was literally a professional partier, and also that she was moving a disturbing amount of product. His inner gamer whispered 'High Charisma', and Ben agreed.

Polk, bless her heart, had brought beer enough for everyone in their group. McCrea had also brought beer enough for everyone. Vaughan had also brought beer enough for everyone. Ben looked across the crowd of dancing people and squinted; Vaughan was on his fourth beer already, chugging it and then slamming the can against his head to crush it.

“Ow,” Ben said in automatic empathy, to nobody in particular. “I guess Vaughn just brought enough beer for Vaughan.”

The sun was set, and the scorching heat of the desert became merely unrelenting as it cooled. From the mountain a cool and refreshing breeze wafted down, imperceptibly turning heads and attention towards it. The breeze carried the scent of water, and more than that, it carried the idea of water with it as well. People began to drink bottles of clear, clean liquid, and found they were still thirsty.

There came a point in the night when, collectively, it was decided that the party wasn't going to end. It was never really vocalized, but the point got pretty well expressed when Polk and McCrea were able to collect everyone's car keys and hide them somewhere safe. Ben was at this point, in his own words 'Stoned and beyond the reach of The Jailers of his mind', and Polk was rapidly approaching the same level.

As the night progressed, people began to self-sort themselves into various categories; those who wanted sleep; those who wanted to fuck; and those who wanted to keep the party going. Ben, McCrea and Polk all wanted to sleep, and shambled their way towards the tents they had brought and set up before the party. Louden was off. . . doing her own thing, and occasionally someone would wander back from her group in a daze, ready for sleep. Vaughan was the kind of person who burned beer like jet fuel, and as long as he was drinking, he was partying. He stood on top of a stable pile of garbage and puked, the vomit smelling and looking like beer. As an experienced drinker, he chugged a bottle of water and then took a shot of something cheap and powerful.

It was Vaughan who bravely organized the expedition to climb the mountain, Vaughan who fired up a group of no more than eight young men to go forth, and it was Vaughan who promptly passed out and had to be dragged to the tent city. Of the eight who were fired up and ready to go, only three decided to go through with it. All they brought with them was a backpack, a hand-held cooler filled with beer. Only two of them had handguns.

The closer they came to their eventual fate, the more sober and alive they felt. One commented to another that they should definitely buy more pills from Louden, and the other agreed that they were worth the money.

They did not notice the silent, long legged beasts that stalked the sides of the trail, hidden by shifting, chameleon fur.

When they reached the oasis, they were suitably amazed. Two stepped forward for a drink, and one stayed behind, sober enough and possessing a clear enough sense of danger to be afraid. The one who drank was struck by the toad's tongue, black veins liquefying in rapid necrosis from the potent poison. The other looked at his friend, a totally blank look on his face. It was this look that informed the third it was time to run. He started to move, but was frozen solid by the combined howling of what looked to be seven, gigantic desert mice, each the size of a Labrador. They were up in the trees, and placed atop rocks, howling in hungry triumphant unison.

The blank faced boy by the pond of glowing water saw his friend fall to the ground, flesh shrinking in clinging like vacuum sealed plastic to his skeleton. Then, he started to scream as worms pulled him into the ground feet first, at more than a foot a second, practically falling. The third boy wished his eyesight did not serve him so well, for illuminated in the moon light, he saw the long humps of the worms under the man's skin.

In that moment, his short life flashed before his eyes. His deepest, calmest thought was that he had lived a very simple life. Recent events seemed to take up most of his attention; of when he decided to fly across the country to Vegas for his bachelors party; of him ditching his party the first available moment and heading into the desert countryside to find 'the real thing'; of when the stunning blond with tight cleavage walked into the fried chicken joint in Hope and declared she was going to throw a sick-ass party, and anyone who wants to come should come with her.

He came.

During the party, he had become fast friends with Vaughan. Never in his life had he imagined being friends with someone who said bro in a one hundred percent authentic way, but there it was. They had somehow become best friends over beer, they told each-other their entire life stories.

Vaughan wouldn't be able to come to the wedding, he thought, and it lit fires of uncertainty in his body, kindling his will to live. I'll never see her again, he thought, and his ability to accept death was totally suppressed.

“I'm not going to die here like some kind of animal!” he shouted, and grabbed a smooth, hand sized river rock. He tossed it once, caught it, then whipped it at a Giant Mouse, where it cracked loudly, shattering the skull between the eyes. It yelped, slumped to the ground, then shattered into vanishing panes of light, leaving behind several large orbs of various colors. The rest of the mice jumped, attention redirected to the sudden, unknown attacker near the dead wolf. They were unable to connect the event of the man's movement, and the death of their pack-mate, leading to mass confusion.

The real attacker, near the back, did not waste his time. Adrenaline making his mind work clearly, perfectly, he grabbed river stones with both hands and began to throw death at the grass wolves, downing them two at a time.

At his feet, worms began to writhe, and he yelled in disgust, jumping away and running, avoiding the central pond. After he yelled, small streaks of light raced towards him as the orbs left behind by the grass wolves vanished all at once. His body glowed faintly with each orb, then rapidly faded. He slowed down, moving more cautiously, eyes scanning the ground for the worms and tracking the positions of all rocks and Giant Mice.

As a sort of symbolic reminder, he hucked a chunk of rock at the central pond, and saw it shatter in a puff of smoke. In the center of the pond was a fleshy node with toad like skin, with a spiked, purple tentacle coming off of it, it's base adhesively stuck to the stone ground. Above it's head in red lettering was written . It had a rock lodged in it's base. The man snarled and threw another stone, this one hitting it squarely and ripping the tentacle cleanly off.

A little bit away, a leap really, the air shimmered, and a pond with blue, glowing water suddenly broke the darkness of the night, illuminating the entire area with soft, sky blue light. Naked greed was evident on the faces of the giant mice, the mass of exposed underground worms surfaced and began rapidly approaching the pond. The man slowly backed away, no longer the center of focus, and watched as the pack of monsters ran to the pond and stood at the edge, seemingly unable or unwilling to take a drink, yet clearly desiring it greatly. The man shrugged and threw as many stones as he could, and so great was the monsters fixation that they did not notice or care about the deaths of others around them.

Light from their bodies flew into him, and the stone he threw at the writhing pile of worms streaked with faint light and did unbelievable damage to them. He should be exhausted, yet his body was totally relaxed, without fatigue.

The man's heartbeat continued at a steady, adrenaline fueled rhythm, his body suddenly surging with feeling. He had survived impossible odds. He had never been more alive than he was right now, never felt better. He picked up a nice sized rock and whistled as he approached the now clear path to the pond. As he approached, each step multiplied an intense sensation in his chest, a burning like fire. It was almost too much for him to continue, at it's peak it felt like his chest was pressed up against the sun. Then, all at once, it was like it never happened, and he was standing at the edge of the pond. Like a child, he fell to his hands and knees to stare into it, water obscured by what looked like micro sized, thick clouds that rained and filled the pond.

If he strained his ears to their maximum ability, he could hear faint raindrops against the ocean below. He reached in his hands, breaking through the clouds and dissipating them all, and cupped he brought up the clear, clean water from the pond. He was about to take a drink when he saw Casimer, floating in the center of the pond, unmoving. He looked like a grape turned into a jewel that radiated unseen light, light that could only be felt on the skin. His face completely blanked out, and pure simian reflex took over.

The water spilled from his fingers and he grabbed Casimer and held him in his hands. The moment his hand had touched the gem, it had gone almost numb. With every passing moment, the numb sensation grew, spreading up his arms and across his entire body. He gripped the gem tightly, body clenching against the not pain, the circulation of his blood blocked by his tightly locked muscles, turning his skin red. He was finally able to yell out, and when he did, he dropped The Dungeon Core, which emitted a storm of light that rose up into the atmosphere, and small patches of rainbow lightning began to crackle across the sky to the horizon and even beyond it.

The man died, his body suddenly slumping. From his body hopped a rotating rectangle of light, with the symbol of a focused eye in bright, drawn colors.

High in the air, Melchsee watched as a miniature storm of rainbow lightning balled up, then launched itself into the ground, sinking itself deep in the stone of the dungeon.

In the distance, Grass wolves began to howl.