The Lord of the Matrix

Chapter 2:  The Second Terminal.

The blues of the horizon are rich and deep, distance clouds splash like the white caps of waves.  Oversized ostriches run wild and free…flamingos high step through little ponds and swallow fish whole…eagles sail through the sky, wings spread wide…groves of apple trees shelter ant hills and spiders webs…bunny rabbits make quick movements with their head and then jump three feet, only to make more quick movements.  Under these two suns, an entire world is nurtured into maturity.  Under these two suns, this world, is at peace.

Azoric handles the bow with steady arms.  The first time he fired, the arrow climbed a camels hump, straight into the air, landing thirty yards off-target.  Now, he wields his weapon with fatal accuracy.

	Zor Primus bundles the tall grass and ties them together, creating targets who resemble Morrigans in size—not so much in shape.  “Target C, it is, what?  One hundred yards out?” Azoric draws another arrow.  Marrin stands, arms crossed, unimpressed.  “Watch this.”  The arrow soars along the landscape, buzzing the grass and ripping through the dummy’s skull.  Azoric lowers the bow and sits.  His fingers claw at the dirt, pulling a strand of the tall grass and placing its sweet root in his mouth.  “Have to admit it, I’ve gotten a lot better, haven’t I?”

	“We’ll see how you handle it when you shoot through trees and hit a moving target—at night.”  Marrin snatches his bow and secures an arrow.  She back flips, somersaulting the ground, lifts to her knees, pulls, fires and hits the target fifty yards further.  “When you can do that, you are getting better.”

	The wind carries the blade out of Azoric astonished jaw.  “You haven’t lived three hundred years on luck alone, that’s for sure.”

	A week has passed since Marrin followed the Morrigans to their layer.  Five miles east, Savage’s mighty castle gobbles up the surrounding forest.  The sight caused Marrin to gasp, swallowing its magnificence.  Even in the great days of England, no castle had towers extending to the clouds, a moat of violent water and a forty foot brick wall protecting it.  Dark storm clouds and bolts of lighting electrocute the sky, thunder overpowers the land.  The Morrigans stop short of the castles walls, where using a secret password, a bark, bark, woof, bark a draw bridge falls—giant chains clank along their path, the bridge itself wines like thousands of dry hinges.  Marrin turned back to report her findings.

	And now Azoric is Robin Hood…this place isn’t without its surprises.  In a rare occurrence of encouragement, Marrin says, “Keep it up.” 

The other five sit in a circle.

	“We still don’t know why we are here.” Raven and Field’s clothing—never made for the outdoors—dissolved days ago.  Since, foodmart loaned his shirt to Raven—Zor to Fields.  Duo and Punkr cut the heels of their pants—so wide they fit the models for skirts.  “We hide from the Morrigans and train to protect ourselves, how long can we do that?  I need answers, don’t you guys?”

	Everyone nods, except foodmart who rubs his skin.  “Oh, sorry.” Foodmart smiles large in embarrassment.  “I haven’t had a tan in centuries, I feel radioactive.  You try going from ghost white to native brown in a week.”  Three days ago, foodmart walked like an old man, inch by inch crossing the grassy field—his back, chest and arms burnt to a pimple red.  The color melds everyday to a dark, consistent flow.  “If you must know what I think, I’d rather not know.  Life is good.  No responsibilities.  We work during the day.  Hang by the fire at night. If we find out why we are here—then we have a quest, responsibilities, obligations, not to mention danger.”

	The others look away.

	“I want to know,” Fields says.

	“So do I,” Punkr comments.

	The others agree.

Night falls on the land.  They sit by a bonfire while their evening supper cooks.  A large Morrigan that Zor killed.  How ironic, they now hunt the very species which hunts them—how is that for fitting in? Zor often thinks.

	“How hard could your jobs have possibly been?” Zor bits from the hind leg of the Morrigan—the first piece to finish cooking.  The little buggers actually taste good.  “Modeling?  Dressing up and walking a runway for the living.  That is not work.”  Zor—while sitting Indian style—frolics his long purple curls with hands on hips.  “Even I can do it, see?”

	The group laughs…Punkr grabs his gut and swears to puke if Zor doesn’t stop.

	Fields relaxes from the hysterics.  “It is not that easy.  There is a lot of traveling, late nights and the whole weight control thing sucks.  If my PT,” personal trainer, “knew I was eating this, he’d hemorrhage.”  Fields smacks her hands together, scrap meat flings to the ground.  She shakes her hair straight while standing.  “Besides, you have to kick your hip out and lean back with your shoulder.”  Duo pinkies either side of his mouth and cat calls her.  “Thank you.”  Field’s bats her lashes.  She walks a fictional runway.  They clap and holler, Raven among the loudest.  “Not just any woman can do it.”

	“What makes you say that?” Zor asks.  “Hey, Marrin—”  Marrin’s silence during this entire conversation is with intent.  “Give it a try.  I want to see how hard this whole runway walk thing really is.”

	“You’ve got to be kidding.”

	“No Marrin, I’m not.”  Zor devilish grin and perked eyebrows dare her.  “Come on, really, everybody wants to see.”  

	The entire group eggs her on.

	Foodmart seems the most pleased.  “Yeah Marrin, all these years I’ve never seen you runway walk.”  Marrin ignores him like a fed-up older sister.  “Put this big mouth in his place.”

	The entire group taunts again.  Raven thuds Marrin’s shoulder—Marrin finds this especially displeasing.  “It’ll be fun, give it a try sweetie.”

	Marrin stares her down, a frown drooping her cheeks like wax spilling from a candle.  Last week everyone of these humans would be running in terror.  Now they think they can pressure me into doing anything.  I’ll show them who they can push around…  The rest of the argument sounds good in Marrin’s head.  It isn’t as convincing coming out of her mouth.

	“I just want to say this, without a doubt, is the stupidest thing in the world and I am just doing it so you will all shut up.”  

	Marrin cocks her neck back and marches long, goofy strides, placing one foot in front of the other.  Everyone cracks in hysterics, pounding their feet on the ground.  The appalling sounds from Zor’s gut are the worst.  They distract Marrin and she trips on her own step, purposely straddling him during her fall.

	He can’t stop laughing—even after her fist blackens his eye.  “I’m sorry Marrin, I don’t mean to laugh…”  His hand wiggles out from under her and tickles her side.  She giggles.  The entire group freezes, as if in the presence of Steve Bateman himself…their mouths hang open with bulging eyes.  “Marrin—you laughed.  All this time here, no one has ever heard you laugh.”  Her eyebrows converge, so?  “You laughed when I touched you.  You’re ticklish!”

	“Get serious you loserrraaaaerrrr…hahaha!”

	Zor’s fingers spider her sides.  “I know someone who wants a visit from the tickle monster!” he mocks in a large, juvenile outburst.

	Marrin falls onto her back.  “No!  No!  No!  Stop!  Hahahahaha!”

	“Alright Zor, that’s enough,” Azoric says.

	“Who would have thought it, a ticklish vampire…it’s so cute.”  Zor releases her and notices her fit stomach.  Marrin glares—almost—seductively before covering her abdomen and shoving him away.

	“Shut up.”

Everyone sleeps during the night—even foodmart.  Marrin is incapable of doing such.  She thinks about this strange new world and misses her life…running from Buffy and hunting young men leaving the Bronze.  Her desires to drink have left—her memories have not.  They breed in her subconscious and before she can gain control…her teeth elongate, separating her lips, the choppers dangle like giant icicles.  Her eyes void of color.  Her graceful steps become a primal jerking.

	Time to burn some energy.  Marrin sniffs through the forest.  She can not deny that she is—in this planet, this universe, or any other—a hunter.  The scent of the Morrigans tickle her nose.  How delightful, she thinks.  She uses her long spear as a walking stick…for now.

	Her head cocks right.

	Sniff…

	The clouds part and the leafs whistle under the breeze.  Things are always about to go wrong when everything goes silent.  No owls hoot nor mice scurry.  Why?  Because they all know that there is a predator here…and it is not me.  Across the woods, paws gain on her.

	“Come on.”  She has learned from watching them.  The Morrigan she hears is a patsy; a dummy—set-up to make her anticipate an easy kill.  “Don’t make me wait all night.”

	She pushes a branch from her face.  All remains silent.

	Something is behind me…

	A Morrigan snaps his jaws on her weapon.  Marrin spins on her feet.   The creature lunges and yanks the spear.  Marrin falls on her butt—grunting in pain—releasing the spear.  She kicks the Morrigan’s snout.  The hunter runs away, dragging the spear with him.

	Marrin rolls on her back and flips to her feet.  She dusts her bottom and legs—the sound has not returned.  Her teeth grow…if she has to tussle—she’ll bet on her jaw.  Her throat curls in a deep purr, letting them know something is animal in her.

	The pack of Morrigans—who’ve been lying under brush with their eyes closed—jump to their paws and shake off the dust of the forest.  They all step in unison, closing the space between.  The lead Morrigan pounces in the air and Marrin catches him, spreading his front legs she bites the animals neck and tosses it aside—spitting a tuff of hair and skin.

	From behind, a Morrigan hand and knees her.  Marrin crawls from him, rotating onto her back and sliding on her butt.  The same Morrigan charges her at full speed and takes flight…his hairy, deadly, fit animal skin over shadowing one of the moons.  Its fangs every bit as visible as Marrin’s.  She holds out her hands...accepting the end.

	The animal collapses on top of her…dead, an arrow through its skull.  Blood drips on to her neck and runs along her shoulder.  What?

	Swoop…  Swoop…  Swoop…  Swoop…

	Four more fall.  The rest retreat.

	Marrin pushes off the dead animal.  “Azoric?”

	Azoric appears from behind a tree.  “What was that about hitting moving targets?”  His tone is neither sarcastic or mean.  He has earned her respect…he will remind her of that even if she would rather forget.

	She eyes him up close.  “I could have taken them.”

	“Maybe.  Why do it though?  I was here.  I helped.”

	“You followed me.”

	“Yeah, so?”

	Marrin wants to run for camp.  He knows how to hunt so well, let him—see how long he can last.  

	She rubs a smudge of dirt from her face.  “Don’t do it again.”

Marrin leads them through forest.  Her thoughts repeat, you’re lost.  At night, the forest seems smaller.  Now, in every direction—nothing but the same.  She trusts her gut and continues to the east. 

	“Anyone else find it odd that we are about to storm a castle with a bow and spears?” Duo asks.

	They all agreed this morning, somewhere in this castle are the answers they seek.

	Punkr slaps him on the back.  “My friend, this is no time for logic.”

	“No kidding,” Zor says.  “If I believed in logic, I’d still be wondering why Angelo’s has long purple hair again.”  Azoric punches Zor in the arm.

	“Who is Angelo?” Fields asks.

	“I knew an Angelo once.”  Foodmart stays a stride behind the Fellowship, shoulders with Raven.  “Hey—Marrin, you remember Angelo?”

	“No.”

	“Come now, you remember Angelo, don’t you?”  Marrin never answers the same question twice. “You know, he was kinda short…no maybe he was tall.  Or maybe he was a she.  No wait, brown, no blondish hair with a mustache.”  Foodmart stokes his chin.  “Come to think of it, I don’t think I know anybody by the name of Angelo.”  Raven laughs and the others chuckle.  “It’s nice to know somebody listens.”

	Raven’s eyes survey the ground—she steps over a jagged rock.  “I am going to have to visit the lagoon again after this hike.”

	“Who knows,” foodmart says.  “Maybe this castle is really an outlet warehouse for Nike.  You’ll be the envy of the forest in your new Jordan’s.”

Half an hour later, Marrin reaches the top of a large hill.

	“Oh man,” Zor says.  “Are you kidding me?  Those walls are forty feet high.”

	“I told you that,” Marrin replies.

	“Yeah but I didn’t believe you.  Whose ever seen a forty foot wall?” Zor cocks back his neck until it is hyper extended.  He still can not see where some of the towers end.  “I hope this place has got elevators.”

	“Lets go.” Azoric says.

	The rest of them follow.  At the drawbridge they all take in the castles magnificence one more time.  David beat Goliath…David beat Goliath, Raven’s thoughts stutter.

	“So, uhh…Marrin, go ahead and input the password,” Azoric suggests.

	She gives him the, Really?  We aren’t crossing the deadly moat and making a climb for it? look.  The Morrigans use a computer system to enter the password.  “How about that?  This computer monitor is the first piece of technology we’ve seen here.  Stands to reason this place might have other forms of technology.  Everyone keep their eyes open.”  

	She belches, bark, bark, woof, bark, while lowering herself to the microphone.

	The computer screen reads: Invalid Password, Please Try Again.

	“Maybe I got one of the barks confused with a woof.”  Marrin grits up her voice, hacking to sound more K9.  Bark, bark, woof, bark.

	“Hey look, it’s a b****.”  Duo and Punkr double over in laughs.  Fields and Raven palm their mouths and giggle.  “Sorry,” Zor says.  “I couldn’t resist.”

	“Alright, now get serious.”  Azoric nods at Marrin to try again.

	Bark, bark, woof, bark.

	The computer screen reads back:  Error, PC Load Letter.

	“PC Load Letter?  What the f@(* is that?” Marrin punches the computer screen.  “Open up, damnit.”

	The computer screen reads back:  Password Accepted.

They cross the bridge.  The forty foot walls protects nothing except dirt.  The entire castle is deserted—with good reason too, a violent storm pours on them.  The harsh winds helicopter their hair and flag their clothes.  

	A large building, with a giant arch is where they stop.

	“Let’s go.”  Marrin—never one to be lazy with her weapon—faces it forward.  She steps through the archway and into the dark.  The others don’t follow.  “Come on, we didn’t come all this way to turn around.”  No one follows.  “I see well in the dark, I’ll lead us.  I am sure there is nothing dangerous.”

	“Speak for yourself, immortal.”  Azoric enters and the others follow his lead. 

	Marrin walks through the giant hall.  No tables or chairs, banquet halls or fountains lay about.  The room is just, a room—with colossal columns supporting the ceiling and towers.

	The Fellowship reaches a winding staircase, it revolves in a circle, orbiting the core of the a tower.  “What were you saying about elevators?” Punkr asks Zor.

	Hundreds of feet up, a light twinkles like a faint star.  “I guess we aren’t alone here.”  Why couldn’t this have been a Nike warehouse? Raven clamps her jaw to hide her chattering.  Why does someone live that high up?  And alone?  What is wrong with him?  “We should get going.”  Raven and Fields choke the railing and skip every other step.  “What?  You guys gonna wait for us down here?”

	Foodmart swallows heavy.  “Sounds good to me…I once rode a horse for eight hundred miles straight, a few years before the automobile was invented.  I never thought I’d walk straight or be with a woman again and this stair case has got that horse ride beat, by at least ten or fifteen stories.”

	“foodmart is right, Raven,” Zor says.  “No one can climb that many stairs and ever be with a woman again.”

	“Oh, really?” Fields asks.  “Looks like our fanatic exercising prepared us for one thing.  Raven and I can Stairmaster 175 floors.  We’ll be up there is forty minutes.”

	“Bring me back a postcard, okay?” Duo jokes.

“You think they can really make it that far up?” foodmart asks.

	Against everyone’s better judgment, Raven and Fields climb the stair case to investigate the light.

	“Shut up,” Marrin responds.  “I’m tired of your mouth.”

	“Sorry,” foodmart responds.  “No, don’t go that way.”  He can see just as well in the dark.  “It will double back to where we just came from.”

	“And that would be?” Zor asks.

	“Shut up, the both of you.”  Marrin’s footsteps stop.  “Christ your hands are sweaty.”  Marrin pries her palm from Duo’s and wipes it on her pants.  They formed a Chain of Life after leaving Fields and Raven—an idea Punkr saw in a movie.  They all hold hands so no one loses their way. 

	“Is that light I see?” Azoric breaks his grip with Zor.

	“Yeah, your pointing is really clearing that up for us…in this pitch black.”  Zor eyes want to see the light.  He looks for it like the others do—then it shines in front of him.  “I see it.”

	The group progresses towards to the light.  Mice squeak and bats flap their wings, squeaking misery.  “It looks like it is coming from a room,” Duo comments.  “And—do I hear typing?”

	Inside a plump woman, in her mid-fifties with bifocal glasses, sits at her desk with a typewriter, papers piled on either side.  Her skirt is cut mid-shin with a golf-club sweater-vest up top.  Her hair is aqua netted in onne large pipeline starting at her right temple and wiping out at her left ear, with a hive behind.  

	Filing cabinets line the walls.

	“Who are you?” Punkr asks.  He can’t believe this woman—who could be his mother—types away in this dark place.  “You are a prisoner, aren’t you?  Don’t worry, we’ll set you free.”

	“Prisoner?” Duo steps into the room.  “I don’t think she is stamping license plates on that typewriter, Punkr.”  For Duo, this is a moment to shine.  He feels like Humphrey Bogart, trench coat and cigar smoking—ready to ask the tough questions.  “So—if you aren’t stamping license plates, what are you doing here?”  Duo intensifies his eyes, thinning them to slits, standing three paces in front of the group.  

	“I am Mr. Savage’s personal assistant.”

	“What?” Duo spits.  “And Mr. Savage, he owns this place?  The killer dogs and everything?”  She nods in response.  “And you,” he points, “are his secretary?”

	“Personal assistant.”  She smiles and nods.  “There is a difference.”

	An awkward silence holds, both parties know they are in no danger—none moves in friendship.

	Marrin steps into the light.  “So then, you’re saying you don’t mind if we look through these file cabinets and take what we want?”

Raven and Fields sweat like pigs in August, their shirts stuck with sweat.

	“It is an entrance of some kind,” Fields comments.

	Raven peaks her head around the door, against all physics, it is an entrance—into a large bottomless pit.  A silver of rock—a toothpick for a mountain valley serves as a walkway to the center of the room.  At its end a large floating slab of slate gives floor to an alter.  In the alters center, the critical first piece of the Matrix…

	“What is that?”

“From what these files tell me—” Zor sits Indian Style on the floor, an overstocked file open and parted into sections.  “There is this thing that gives…well, they don’t name him…but it gives this guy the power to create universes.  Well, not only that, anything.  It is a fuel source that can be used to make any pursuit or dream come true.”

	“So why doesn’t this guy without a name have it?” Punkr asks.

	“Well, Savage and two others, with their boss, stole it.  They need time to get everything figured out—like how they want to go about shaping the universes.  So to keep the Matrix out of this guy without a name hands, they broke it in three pieces.  And I am telling you, the second terminal is here.”

	“foodmart, are you listening to this?” Azoric asks.

	Most of the group stands by Zor Primus.  Foodmart sits at Tammy’s desk.  “Yes, I am listening.”  He turns back to Tammy.  “Anyway, the episode where Rachel gets a red sock in her laundry, you know that one?”

	“Classic, I was laughing for hours.”

	“Yeah, that happened to me.  You see,” foodmart progressively skips decibels—not knowing that everyone can hear him.  “Marrin had this pair of tiny pink panties with a red heart and a little bow right here.” Tammy hikes an eyebrow.  “And I put it in with my whites.  Big mistake, everything came out pink and most of those clothes had only been worn once.”  The group shoots their heads around.  “What?  Hey somebody has got to do the laundry…the cooking, the cleaning, the scrubbing, the washing.” Foodmart counts on his fingers. “We’re vampires, not Neanderthals.  I like a clean inhabitance as much as the next demon.”

	“Yeah but—” Punkr mouths, bows?  It doesn’t fit Marrin’s tight black leathers.  His wandering eyes also see Marrin, two seconds from jabbing him in the nose.  “Fine with me.  I think it goes.  I’m sure if the fashion twins were with us—”

	“Shut up.” Marrin squeezes Punkr’s throat.

	“Right,” his voices cracks.  “Not another word Marrin, I promise.”

	“Whoa!  Look at this!”  Duo walks out of a closet in the far wall holding hangers full of clothing and shoes.  “Fields and Raven are going to love these.  We’ve finally got some clothes for them.  I mean, they must be really uncomfortable wearing those short …skirts, with those t-shirts…don’t really fit…”  Duo throws the hangers back into the closet, save one.  “Anyways, we’ll forget I found those.  Anybody like this cape?”

	Tammy reaches with caution but doesn’t speak.  Duo cloaks himself in it.  He tugs at the corners of his neck. No strings?  The cape folds over his shoulders and chest, defying gravity.  “I like it.” Zor comments.  “Now, if you only had some purple hair you’d be cool.”

	“Be careful with that,” Tammy warns.  She scoots out of her desk, spacing herself from the cape.  “That is Mr. Savage’s cape.  Only he wears it.  It has powers.”

	“Like what kind of powers?” Azoric asks.

“Hello ladies.”

	Raven’s insides turn upside.  “Duo?  You scared me.”  Behind him wait the others.  “How did you guys get up here?  We didn’t even hear you?”

	“Magic cape,” Duo peaks into the room.  “That must be it, huh Zor?”

	“That’s it,” Zor crowds the doorway, kissing shoulders with the girls.  “The second terminal of the Matrix and the first piece in our quest to save the universe.”

	“Our quest to what…?” Fields asks.

	“Lets get it.” Azoric eyes the fire and lava.  He wipes his brow.

	The room is one giant circle—enclosed completely by rock.  Which makes little sense, the fire should have burnt itself out years ago, Marrin thinks.  Magic capes…what other tricks does this Savage have?  Large black pits, resembling sunspots, float along the top of the lava.  Every few seconds, the pressure overtakes the black and a geyser of fire and lava hiccup to the roof.

	Bow before me and state your purpose intruders.

	The entire group is halfway across the walkway, which seems tightrope thin now that they turn around.  Each eyes the long fall, the burning sulfur dilutes their minds.  Behind them, high up, sitting on a thrown, with Morrigans sleeping around him, rests the Lord of Pain and Anguish, Savage.

	Savage phases in on the bottom floor, across from the Fellowship.   Right here.

	“No way, he teleported down here,” Punkr says.

	“And he is telepathic,” Duo adds.

	Right on both accounts.  So you are the eight—not very impressive, are you?  Is this the best the all powerful Steve Bateman has to throw?  It is no wonder that the Matrix is in our control.  I assume that is why you are here—to reclaim one of the terminals.  You are welcome to have it.  All you have to do is get by me, walk through the door and head on out of here.  No takers?  None in the Fellowship responds.  I didn’t think so.  However, I do have an offer.  Standard protocol really—I won’t waste yours or my time.  As allies we are strong…as enemies we waste precious time and energy, blah, blah.  If you join us Backstabber has assured me you will each be given your own universes to do with what you please.

	Azoric raises his left fist.  “No deal.”

	So you are the leader.  It is of no consequence really, I wasn’t even speaking to you.

	Duo hears very different words.

	I see you wear my cape.  It isn’t very nice to poke around in other peoples closets, trying on their clothes and using their magic.  It looks like Tammy let you take it without even putting up a fight—it is so hard to find good help these days.  Never bother, what’s done is done.  Tell me and be honest—don’t worry about your words, none of the others will hear you—do you like wearing it?  I could teach you how to use it correctly.  At one time I needed it for flight and teleportation.  A cape is like a security blanket, unnecessary but important to the inexperienced someone.  The capes gives peace and comfort.  It gives your magic physical form when it has none.  You can not hide your internal turmoil.  You’ve tasted power for the first time in your life and you are as addicted to it as I was.  Do not contain this power.  I will teach you how to use it.  Just ask me…and I will become your instructor.

	“No!” Duo shouts.  The other seven shake themselves out of their trance, unsure how long they’ve been without consciousness.  “I will never!”  Duo leaps over the seven, sailing—no, flying past them and landing on the alter.  He picks up the terminal.  Its power hardwires straight to Duo’s brain.  Like a slow high that rages at its peak, Duo can control it for a few seconds, soon he can not stand under the Matrix’s hypnotic weight.

	You are foolish.  Unaware of my power.  I think it is time I show you what I am capable of.

	The ground trembles.  Soon, their eyes can not see straight.

	“Everybody, brace something!” Azoric yells.

	It is too late.  The rock beneath Punkr caves.  Before he can scream, Zor tugs him back.  Zor grits his teeth, lifting Punkr to a stance but the momentum captures them.  Marrin slides on her belly and reaches for the falling Zor, snapping his wrist and dislocating his shoulder with her grip and pull.

	“Hold on!” she yells.

	Their efforts at sustaining life amuse Savage.  He raises his arms high above his head.  Normally, Azoric would think this looks rather foolish—if not for the fact that the lava builds itself into a tidal wave.

	Duo opens his eyes.  His hand have released the terminal and he has control.  He struggles to his feet and wraps the terminal in his cape so not to touch it.

	Everything moves in slow motion.  Punkr screams for his life.  Zor looks at the wave in disbelief.  Marrin fights to hold on.  Azoric stares at Savage with little fear in his face or heart.  Foodmart ducts and covers.  Fields and Raven wrap each other in arms and say good-bye.

	No!

	Eight bodies splash into violent waves.  Fields gags water and spits it out.  Salt water.  Its battery acid on hot pavement taste coats her throat, cramping her stomach.

	“Where are we?”

	In every direction, all Fields can see, is water.