Part V: I Just Wanna Be God

Luther wasn�t sure what he had expected at his departure, but he had expected something memorable, and he didn�t get it. Everything went as he knew it would, the Sentinel�s futile warning, the watchers seeing him off, those first steps into the field. But it seemed so small, short, and unimportant. Trying to recall, now, he couldn�t even bring to mind exactly what the mountains looked like as he approached them over the field, or what Dragontown looked like when he saw it from without for the first time in that last glimpse from the edge of the highlands.

It wouldn�t be accurate to say that he now understood what the Travelers were thinking, why they weren�t afraid. Rather, he had come to see that there was nothing to understand. If the other Travelers felt anything like Luther did, their minds were too full of wonder to allow any room for fear. If there was any space left in his mind where there was not curiosity, it was merely an irritation at the weight of the supplies he had brought with him.

Perhaps, though, he would have been more appreciative of the situation if Crash had not been at his side badgering him with endless questions.

�Explain it to me once more, the entire thing,� Crash said.

Luther sighed, at least he has a strong back for carrying my supplies. He looked around as they walked on the paths through the mountains. It truly was incredible. He lacked the words to describe what he was seeing, as one raised in a culture that knew only hate would never understand or know a word for love.

The sun had never seemed so bright. Luther passively wondered if he had ever really seen it before, without clouds and fog between them. Sunrays cascaded down over the giant mountains, higher than the highest building in Dragontown, sometimes reflecting in little points of intensity on the rockface, like stars. The sound, or rather, the lack of sound, was brilliant. Without the constant chattering away of the city, every sound he did hear was something distinct and remarkable. The smell and taste of the mountain range was similar. Living in it his entire life, Luther never really noticed the stench of the fog, but now, he certainly noted its wonderful absence. Much like sanity, unnoticeable except by absence, and then, such wonder.

He drank in the sensations. The warmth of the sun on his face, the tickle of the soil and pebbles under his feet and between his toes. Beautiful�

Crash sighed as he looked over at Luther, the man was walking and staring off into the distance, smiling like he had never smiled before. It was frustrating. Crash wanted answers. He had traveled to get answers! And this man wanted to stare at the rocks. Forget frustration, this was maddening.

And these packs are fucking heavy. Crash wondered what Luther planned to do with these things. All these ropes and hooks and tools. And of all of it, so little food! Just prudent, I suppose. Not a bad idea, either, not knowing what�s waiting for us in the mountains.

But Crash did know what was waiting for them, or one thing at least. He was surprised that they hadn�t seen the Guardians yet. They had been traveling for the better part of a week, and had not, as of yet, been eaten.

�Luther,� Crash tried to get his attention once more. �I asked you a question.�

His pleasant little trance broken, Luther turned his attention to Crash.

�What was it, again, you wanted explained?�

�Everything, how it all happened.�

�My incoherent tirades that result from efforts to answer that question won�t help you understand anything,� Luther told him. �Ask something more specific.�

Luther watched Crash, silent for a little while. Crash was trying to decide exactly what it was he wanted to know. Luther was sympathetic, he had suffered for a long time with an aching curiosity without anything in particular to be curious about. It was simply an irritating understanding that there was something to know, something of great importance, that eluded him, and a burning desire to learn it.

As they walked, the silence was blissful. Luther wondered if everyone in the city had ever just shut up for even a few moments to see what it was like. He watched Crash as they carefully scaled a hill of unstable rock. Luther had to consider each step so as not to fall, but Crash seemed far better acquainted with his own kinesthetics, what his body could do and couldn�t do, and he surmounted the hill without difficulty, thinking about his question as he did.

Eventually, as they stood atop the hill and watched the path wind eastward before them, Crash asked, �Why did the people leave the marshes west of Dragontown?�

As they made their way back down to the path, Luther pretended he wasn�t answering because he needed to think about his steps. In reality, going downward was far easier than going up; if he fell, he got to his destination anyway. He didn�t answer because he didn�t know.

It was a strange question. Somehow it was almost as if Crash had asked why time continued to relentlessly progress. Finally, he knew he needed to say something, and as they were continuing on the path, he ventured,

�I suppose they left the marshes for much the same reason that you and I left the city.�

�I don�t entirely understand,� Crash said. He supposed he was new to this whole thinking business.

�I think they left the marshes and traveled eastward for the same reason that we left the city and traveled eastward. They thought that something better would be waiting for them. They thought� They thought they could make things better.�

�It seems that they were wrong,� Crash said.

�Yes, it does,� Luther lamented.

�But Luther, I didn�t come because I thought things would be better,� Crash reminded him.

�You�re right. And I expect it was the same back then. When I said that they thought they could make things better, I meant that the thinkers thought they could make things better. The doers were simply dragged along for the ride.�

Crash thought for a long time about what Luther had told him. The sun was slowly westering.

�Any other questions?� Luther asked to fill the silence.

�Yes,� Crash said. �Why haven�t we seen any Guardians yet?�

He knew that Luther didn�t have an answer for him. They simply had to be grateful for their luck. The two walked on for the rest of the day, wondering how long the walk would be and how long that luck would last.

Their food supply was running out. By nightfall, Crash was starving. His senses were turning on just as Luther�s were. In the absence of the veil of filth in Dragontown, everything came flooding in. The caress of the breeze, the sound of tumbling stones, the smell of�

Money!

�Luther! This way, there�s something here!�

Crash was moving for it even before he called to Luther. The sound of Luther�s footsteps faded into the distance behind him as the pounding of his own feet echoed about. He followed his nose, zipping through a path that he noticed in passing had footprints on it already. He followed those along with the scent, both leading the same place. He scurried up a slope and when he reached the other side, he saw it lying there.

Luther barely managed to keep Crash in view before the younger man reached the hill. Once he bounded over it to the other side, Luther ceased his efforts to keep up; it was hopeless. Instead, he walked at a casual pace. He smelled it now too. Money indeed.

Finally he reached the hill and climbed it, wondering whether or not he would see Crash on the other side. As it happened, he did see Crash, standing over another, less fortunate fellow. Luther slid down on this side of the hill to stand in dirt stained red. Looking down on it, it was difficult to even recognize the mass of broken and mangled organic matter as a body. But Luther did.

Luther recognized it as more than just a body. He could see where there were bits of skin left together that the skin was dark. He could see other places with scales. And still barely attached to the thing was a tail. A tail that would never wag again.

�It looks as if the Guardians found him,� Crash said.

�Yes it does,� Luther said. Goodbye, my Traveler.

�We should leave,� Crash said. �They might be back. Even if they have forgotten about him for now, Guardians always follow the scent of blood.�

�In a few minutes,� Luther said. �Cut up whatever is left and usable and put it in the packs.�

Crash didn�t hesitate, he did as he was told.

By the time the moon had fully risen and was rolling off westward, they were far from the body, sitting on a path on a mountainside. Crash didn�t really notice the extra weight of the meat, probably because there wasn�t much left of it. As they sat in silence, they ate it. They stared at the starlit sky as the mountain peaks reached up for those stars. Crash sympathized with the mountains. Reaching, wanting, yearning, never owning.

Neither of them knew what to say to each other, but both were thinking the same thing. Finally, meekly, Crash asked Luther,

�This� this isn�t the way to Paradise is it?� Luther took a long time before answering.

�No one will ever know for certain until they go. But no, I don�t think it is. I think it was probably back in the West� But you can never go back West now. Going East is difficult, but going West is utterly impossible.�

Crash knew what he meant. He was right.

Crash sat and watched the line of the mountains when his eyes noticed movement and he sprang onto his feet. Yes, movement. Two silhouetted forms moving on the mountains with the speed and unquestionable grace of the shadows that they almost appeared to be. They were coming.

�Luther, we have to go, now!�

They ran without delay. They pounded on the paths, winding about mountains in the dark. All the time, they knew that the Guardians were on their heels. They never saw them, not once. They never heard a footstep or a growl, but they knew. The Guardians were behind every rock, lurking in every shadow, waiting around every bend. But still, they pressed on.

For all the weakness and helplessness Luther had felt his entire life, Luther had never loathed his own bodily inadequacies so much as he did now. He kept tripping, he kept stumbling, he kept falling. Each time, Crash would stop and grab him and pull him up and forward until they were running again.

Crash, so helpful and righteous.

It almost made him sorry for what he had to do.

They continued running, and as the light grew in the east, the Guardians were getting closer. They could hear them now, panting, even howling. They could see them in the corner of their eyes, great beasts moving with such quickness that they could have been insects flitting this way and that. Teeth and claws and strong limbs. They were coming.

Exhaustion filled Luther, his body taking the toll with pain. He wondered how long he could go on, how long it would be before he found the right sort of place. He watched the mountains as they ran, watched the places they passed through, watched the configuration of the hills, waiting for it to be just right.

The sun was fully in the sky before, finally, it was just right.

�Stop here!� Crash heard Luther yell at him from behind, and he obeyed, sliding to a halt in the dust and marl.

�What?!� Crash yelled, panic pumping in his veins. He wiped the sweat from his brow. He looked all about, just as Luther was doing, for any sign of the Guardians. He saw none. It was possible that they had lost them, for now. But they would be found again.

�We can�t make it, Luther,� he said. He looked around. They were in the middle of a flat clearing, where rather unstable looking mountains were rising up on every side. Lots of loose rock and precarious natural structures.

�We can�t.�

He looked at Luther, who wasn�t staring off at the rocks anymore. He was staring at Crash. There was a knife in his hand.

Luther gripped the blade tightly, readying himself to do what he needed to do. He required very little readying. It was, after all, his very purpose in life. Deciding life and death, deciding what to sacrifice and what to save. All in all, this was a very simple choice, and he made it just as Crash saw the knife. Then, there was no time for thinking, only for doing.

Triggerman.

The blade was buried in Crash�s gut, and Luther twisted it with a cold and mechanical determination to keep the wound from closing. He then sprang back quickly, so that when the blockage was removed, and the pungent blood began to spray, he wouldn�t let any touch him. That would defeat his entire purpose.

Luther stood and watched as Crash gasped, his face an explosion of shock and pain. Crash grasped his wound and dropped to his knees. Redness poured from him and stained the ground. Luther sniffed the air; even he could smell it. He knew it would reach them.

�Crash, I would love to share your last moments of life with you, but time is of the essence now, I have important work to do.�

Luther grabbed up his pack full of rope and tools and darted off, leaving Crash to his bleeding, speeding up onto the mountain paths.

Crash was shaking with the pain, though in truth, it was receding faster than he expected. The shock of it was almost worse than anything. Luther had betrayed him. He didn�t understand it, but he didn�t care anymore. As Luther disappeared onto the paths, it seemed less important. And when he saw two forms emerge from the hills, Luther was utterly insignificant.

Crash looked up and saw the two of them standing there, looking down on him with keen, merciless, judging eyes. They smelled his blood. They found him by it, they were coming down for him, and he knew it. He reached into his pockets and pulled out his daggers, his best weapons, that he had brought with them. One for each hand, he struggled to his feet.

Luther�s intellect raced. Geometry and physics flared in every brain cell as he ran the ropes and tied knots and moved stones. His body had to move almost as fast as his mind if this was going to work. He furiously tied two ropes together. He had it worked out, the Guardians would follow the scent of blood to Crash�s body.

Luther threw a huge lasso around a boulder and saw that the rope was taut. He was running the plan through his mind again. He silently prayed that the Guardians wouldn�t finish eating Crash until he was ready. So long as they stayed at Crash�s body until he was done here, everything would work.

Crash watched the Guardians as they began to move. He wasn�t even thinking about his wound anymore. He felt something awakening in him that he had never felt before. Something powerful and important, much like the Guardians. Something raw and feral and echoing of a life in the western marshes that he had never lived. He gripped his knives.

One of the four-legged beasts turned and began trotting in a wide circle about the clearing, as if to cut off any escape. Crash wasn�t interested in escaping. He watched the other one as it trudged down the path toward him, it�s great wide neck stretching about to always allow the head a good place to watch the prey, baring teeth the size of Crash�s forearm. With a final bound faster than every step put together, the Guardian was in the clearing with Crash, circling about.

Crash was just preparing to charge the thing when it moved first, faster than lightning. His left arm came up to defend and he felt a great impact through that arm as his dagger slashed through flesh and slammed into bone, but it was the last thing the arm would ever feel. As the Guardian was limping on and Crash spun around to keep it in sight, he realized that those horrible teeth had severed his arm at the bicep.

For what felt like a horrific eternity, he stared at his lost limb on the ground, the knife still in its grip. Never had he been so hurt, so permanently and fundamentally damaged. And it had all happened so fast. And it was happening again, but this time, he was ready, or at least some part of him was, and as the Guardian was atop him and his back slammed full force into the rocks, his knife surged up straight through the beast�s neck.

Claws rained down on him in a fury, but he held his arm up and his dagger through the throat. Blood poured out and burned in his eyes. The mouth snapped and snapped, but slower and slower until finally, it stopped altogether, and the Guardian collapsed.

Crash knelt over the beast, and he let his thousand cuts bleed as if his entire body were exhaling. There was no relief in it though, for all his energy was gone, and as he turned his head, he saw the second Guardian coming.

Luther heard the commotion below, but had no time to wonder what it was. He was entirely focused, doing what he did best, making the decision. He finished tying the rope, he finished securing the rocks, he finished climbing to his vantage point. He was ready. No thought now, only action.

Triggerman.

As Luther yanked on the length of rope he held with all of his strength, the rocks began to move. Domino effects brought down stones the size of five men, and delicate systems of rock were broken and collapsed until a dozen avalanches were happening all at once.

The rocks and boulders poured down into the clearing, crushing everything that was there, which consisted of Crash and two Guardians. None of them would bother him again. Luther cried out in the joy of his own power, and then he turned Eastward, hungry and yearning, and began to move.

Crash saw nothing but darkness; the rocks blocked out all of the light. Every bone was broken, nothing was left. And yet, as a different sort of darkness seeped into his mind and soul, there was relief, and though Crash couldn�t feel anything anymore, much less the muscles in his face, he thought that perhaps he was smiling.

Luther walked for a long time. The Guardians were gone, he had destroyed them. And yet, as before, he was not alone. As he walked onward, the Traveler wagging his tail matched his stride on his left, and Crash did the same on his right. The Traveler, as usual, wagged his tail in silence. Crash was anything but silent.

�What was it all for, Luther?� he demanded with a tone that could only be accusation.

Luther�s scream echoed through the thinning mountains,

�For power! For greatness!�

�And what power have you?! What greatness?! Look at you now!� Crash scolded. The Traveler smiled, wagged his tail, and shook his head.

�At least I was special! At least there was never anyone else like me!�

�And thus you walk alone.�

�I�m in control, I don�t need anyone else!� Luther was going mad. He wanted them gone, he wanted to be alone.

�No you don�t want to be alone, Luther,� Crash told him. �You know you don�t.�

�Then what do I want? What did any of us want? Why go East at all?!�

�You tell me, Luther. What do you want? What do you want to have? What do you want to be?�

�I just� I just want��

But Crash was gone. So was the Traveler.

So were the mountains.

Luther froze in place as he saw it.

Understanding struck him like orgasm. Like a Guardian�s teeth. Like horror. He saw it, and he understood everything finally. It was all so familiar and yet it wasn�t. He looked upon it and none of it made sense and yet it all made sense. He had seen it before.

He understood the portraits now. They weren�t what the painters feared or what the painters wished for. They were what really was. That was all Dragontown was, abstraction, symbol and metaphor. It was so sick in its stark reality. This was what was waiting for the people of Dragontown. It was what they already had. Ideals and worship and sanctity warped into a caricature that was barely recognizable as what it attempted to be.

And as an indecipherable order emerged from the perfect chaos of his knowledge, he screamed.

�OH! HELL!�

He collapsed to his knees as pain filled him. They would come, they had to come. They wanted it, they craved it, and even after they knew the truth, they would take it and say they loved it and pretend they were happy until they were deluded enough to believe it.

�O SWEET TORTURE!�

This was what they wanted. This was what he wanted. This was the ultimate goal of it all, what they wanted to be ever since they left the marshes, and as everything he was gave away and he felt his life ending, he whispered an answer to his friend�s question.

�God...�