Deeper Within

Glimmering steel cut through the thick overgrowth as Dave forged his way through the forest. Watermann trailed behind. The more they headed north, the earth swallowed. Redwoods loomed, and roots wrapped amongst ferns and flowers. Light began to flicker and thin as the canopy became solid. Soon, the two Lamian soldiers found themselves at the entrance to an open pit, glowing with the faint emerald of bioluminescence. They gazed above, and strands of light pierced through needle holes in the leaves. In those cones of light, flowers and plants bloomed. Elsewhere was the realm of the fungi. Watermann held his rifle close. Dave kept cutting through, even as his bayonet dulled. Eventually, he stopped using the damn thing all together, and began hacking with his entrenching tool. Low brush tangled their boots. The stagnant, moist air carried glowing spores in waves. It smelled of mildew; of sweet rot. Twisting and turning, the cables of stringy mushrooms drooped and wept.

Watermann choked in the stifling atmosphere. Four hours of walking hadn’t done him any favors, either. Exhaustion gorged on his fingers, where they gripped the rifle stock. Little pools of runoff gathered from streams where the rainfall gathered, and the sun reflected off the mirror. Even among the bodies of water, mushrooms still hugged the shore. Antennae peeked over the foliage, and mini-mushroom creatures scurried along the banks of the pond.

The private blinked twice.

Sure enough, his eyesight hadn’t deceived him. What seemed… a gathering of quadrupedal mushrooms, with little antennae and whiskers drooping from the cap, were lying and resting along the pond. Completely connected, yet insular in their behavior. Conscious, but in the animal way. It was enough to stop the soldier in his tracks as he watched them revel in nature. Dave was not far ahead and called out when he saw his batman pause.

“You see something? We’ve got a few hours of sun. We need to make it out of this place before our canteens run dry.”

He walked over, sweeping the stuck branches from his uniform.

“Come on. What’s the matter?”

But he said nothing. Dave’s gaze wandered to the pond, and the mushrooms were diving and floating in the water—perhaps some form of recreation? He coughed, and the grand mass stared back.

“H—hullo.” Watermann whispered.

Getting over their mutual shock, the creatures returned to their routine, and the soldiers breathed a sigh of relief. Dave grabbed his canteen to take another swig, only to pale as he heard little more than a shot glass of water remaining.

“Crap. I’m out of water.” He sighed. “Watermann, how’s yours?”

The private checked. “Half-full.”

Dave scoured the area for any rivers and streams, but it seemed the little bastards had their monopoly. Looks like I’ll have to hope for rain.

“H—hey, Lieutenant! I think they’re saying something!”

Sure enough, the creatures stood in line, hopping, before parting a small pathway for the officer to pass through. They evacuated the water, and the pond almost sparkled. Were they… inviting him?

Semi-benevolent angel-girls, wisps, graveyards…

Ah, what the hell, sure, Dave thought as he walked the path and took one last swig of old world water. He was going to miss that trench water, damn it! He dipped the canteen, filling it to the brim, and gulped down the cool elixir. Of all the things that came to mind, his first thought was,

“Tastes earthy.”

Dave stared hard at the creatures and focused his mind’s eye.

“I come from a land beyond. Take me to your toadstool king.”

They dawdled.

He sighed again. “You know, after all that, I expected you guys to talk at the very least.”

Watermann chortled at his superior’s naivety.

“Nice going, you oaf.”

Dave filled his canteen and left. The creatures returned to their laissez-affair, for none were particularity bothered. Even as night approached, the lieutenant walked with as much—if not more—vigor. Somehow, after drinking from that pond, he felt a sense of strength enter his body. Watermann caved and took a sip of the dubious liquid. He became rejuvenated. Maybe his drink was spiked, or his mind had finally gone from everything that had occurred. The lieutenant felt invincible, and he stood on a mound of dirt, his makeshift soapbox, and emulated the old theater plays and crazy red pamphleteers.

“Rout! Rout! Rout! Come on out, you damn footmen, I’ll teach you better than yer nanny!” Dave giggled to himself and wound up his arm.

“Ha-ha! But loo—tenant, they’re ain’t any ‘round ya silly goose. Just them mush… mushroomy folk.”

“Yeah, yeah, but the Casingian is sneaky!” Dave said as he hopped down. “He is wily. He is smart. His principal goal in life is to raid your trench, come close enough to feel their breath, and take your socks.”

“Freaks that they are.”

But in their rejuvenation, ghosts came from the darkness.

“Pour l'Empereur!”

A blue devil charged, going through the thicket and digging into the lieutenant’s throat. He stabbed again and dug into his gut and sliced open his belly. Watermann stood, horrified.

Dave laughed.

“You see him, too?”

He looked again. It was gone. His superior patted him on the shoulder.

“S—sir?”

“Come on,” he said. “You really think I’d die like that?”

Watermann suddenly felt really out of it. He spoke in a mousy whisper. “Are you OK?”

Dave chuckled.

“Illusions can’t do anything. The more you think about it, the more it hurts.”

Io taught him that. He had to put his foot down.

He patted his belly. “See? I’m fine.”

“Come on. Let’s keep walking.”

So they did, though now unsteady. It seemed like the shadows were crouching, ready to spring and pounce, but none did. They watched from the periphery, ten, twenty feet tall, powerless. The shadows fell away, and the two soldiers giggled and laughed as their brains fried from the darkness.

“So—so then, we captured the schoolmaster after he visited his mistress one night, and spanked the stuffing out of him! Oh, and he deserved it too! No… no one was meaner than that sonuvabitch.”

“Careful now,” Watermann chided. “You’re sounding like… like a Ligeian…”

“Those cowboys? Come on, give me some credit.”

“Nope, yer just like ‘em.”

“Well… then howdyado? I reckon some other pardner will be a better one than you.”

“Please… yew can’t live without me. You damn fox.”

“Oh yeah?” Dave scratched his cheek. “Well, you’re a damn mink.”

Watermann stuck out his tongue. “Finest there is.”

Their packs swayed from side to side, and they left footprints behind.

The lieutenant squinted, his vision flickering. “You certainly look the part, you dingy bat.”

“You’re really going there?”

“Fine, fine.” Dave whispered. “Damn mink.”

“Stupid fox.”

“Oh?” the lieutenant put his hands on his hips. “And if I’m so stupid, then why did I have to remind you to turn off your safety before goin’ over the top?”

“Yeah?” Watermann yelped. “W—well, if you’re so smart, then why did you come up to me privately and ask if milk from boy cows tasted the same?”

Dave prodded his chest. “Is that really any different from when you tried to know that cross-dresser?”

The private turned scarlet. “H—how should I have known? He really looked the part—that’s on him, not me!”

“Yeah right…”

“At least I try!”

“—without success…” Dave interjected.

“What is it with you, anyway? Never playing the game…”

The “fox” flashed his ring finger. “See this golden band?”

“Right…”

“Right.”

“I hate you.”

“I don’ even think of you.”

The private laughed it all off, but even in his state, Watermann felt his heart sink deeper and deeper into the belly of the beast. He could smile all he wanted, because that hallucination wasn’t a vision.

Right?

Grumbling, their path brought them towards a distant pillar of light. Though a mere line at first, they soon realized the true breadth of what lie there. Billowing, wavering flames in a tall geyser. Close to these rocky outcrops of flames, flowers bloomed through the cracks. The sound of escaping hellfire roared, and life bloomed around the orange light of this crater’s core. In one sense, the light used, yet it gave as well.

The officer circled the gash in the earth, seeing how the plants radiated inverse of warmth. Midway from the fire, where a spring had welled, what seemed to be a deer walked towards the water and drank from it. Its horns, twisted like ivory, etched with mushrooms, yet not parasitic. Healthy and symbiotic. This novel creature was a creation rather than a perversion. He saw how it drank, lively, and returned to the consuming darkness. In sync, a volley of wing flaps alerted him to the world above, where something came from the canopy. He held his rifle and waited, only for a small creature, no bigger than a house cat, pounced and seized a walking mushroom. Such is nature.

Disregarding his sympathy for the little guys, he observed how the creature glinted in the fire’s light. Rough skin made of scales made up this animal’s composition, with two beady eyes wiggling on its antennae posts. Ridiculous, this almost seemed like a dragon! Yet, Dave could clearly see that its beak was still green, unripe and unready for picking. So, therefore, consequently, it must be a fruit of some sort!

What the devil was he saying? Only alcohol could have caused such delirium, but they hadn’t partaken. But the more he observed the fruit dragon swoop and catch its meal, the more Dave saw it as part of concrete reality. He scratched his stubble. He was sane after all. This feeling was simply from the geyser’s heat. Nothing more.

Packing their troubles, the lieutenant and his orderly wandered aimlessly. The glowing underworld engrossed their minds. Soon, they saw more and more of the crater’s bounty. As their eyes revealed, the forest came alive with sound. Kilohertz and photoreceptors lost from constant bombardment crept their way back. It caused them to mist up. The ground and earth had never looked so lively before. Oddly enough, their rifles maintained their dull coloring. Long, dug-in months could do that. He took another swig. It made him feel better.

Little luminescent bugs zipped by, drawing little trails in the dark blue atmosphere. From their place within the pit, the soldiers could see redwoods lining the other side of the rim. And in the distance, light that swelled and drew them. It had to be the exit. But their gait deteriorated, and Dave stumbled. He could hear the roar of the geyser flowing. Watermann rushed to help his crafty friend, lifting him by the hem of his uniform.

“When… when did you become a hero, mink?”

“Same time as you, old man.”

“I’m only 25!”

“You’re only a few years older than me.”

“17?”

“18. We both turned in the trenches, remember?”

He wiped his face with his hand. Was it supposed to be like this?

“Don’t you feel awfully hot suddenly?”

“Hmm? Not really.”

“Ah… if you insist.”

“Are you OK? Lieutenant?”

He didn’t know. It felt warm and good, but wrong. Something was awfully, awfully wrong with the world. Dave looked behind him, and guided by gut feeling, he saw the monstrous being descend from the tree line.

“Move!”

Watermann tumbled from his superior’s shove, gagging as his abdomen struck the earth. He gazed onward, seeing as the creature towered above Dave. Covered in scales like the rest, the fruit dragon was the size of a locomotive. The dragon stretched its wings, and various glowing leeches swayed like ornaments. It screeched, huffing as its red beak readied to pierce the man’s heart. Watermann grabbed his rifle, turning the safety off as he remembered his wariness. He aimed for the bastard’s head and pulled the trigger.

Seven-point-seven millimeters of lead smashed into the fruit dragon’s skull, blowing its flesh and viscera all over Dave as it wobbled. Dave took his own and pierced the throat with his eight-mil cartridge. It took one step, then another, and it collapsed in a crash that reverberated throughout the pit. He coughed as the kicked-up dirt and spores clouded the air. The private rushed over quickly, inspecting the man for any harm.

“Lieutenant! Lieutenant!”

His breath shook in the darkness. But seeing the exasperation on his subordinate’s face made him swallow the fear in his throat.

“I’m alright! I’m alright!” he swatted away Watermann’s hands. “It got the jump on me, but he couldn’t do anything.”

Dave grinned.

“Thanks. I’d have been a goner.”

The orderly shook him by the shoulders. “What the hell were you thinking? You could’ve died! And stop talking like a damn cowboy!”

His head bobbed back and forth. “Damn! Right—all right! I’m sorry.”

Watermann looked at him, and for a moment, he saw the fear of abandonment flicker.

“Take better care of yourself, man.”

His heart seized. Why had he done so? Was he not appreciative of the archangel’s gift, of this new world? Dave felt sick, yet awfully ravenous.

Almost immediately, it overtook him. Like those days spent under fire, when the rain finally ceased, and his hunger returned all at once. He tasted the dragon’s blood splattered on his peach fuzz. He masked himself and crooked a wry, false smile. It was real and tangible. He could feel it within every inch of his body. Terror.

“Tastes like strawberries.”

Watermann smiled.

“Does it?”

Instinctively, he crawled over to the blown-off head of the fruit dragon. Scarlet sweet pooled beneath his hands, sticking him to the ground. It mired, and he felt his fingers sinking further, deeper into the muck. Soon, the mixture engulfed his entire hand. Jaws of white, yellow marrow, pink brains. Howling from above. Gray gunpowder, green bile, black blood, phlegm. No—phloem. It really was a plant. An organism that some pulpy author could only cook up in an opium den. A damn fruit dragon. And it was real.

It beckoned to them.

For this is my flesh.

Who was he to decline?

The lieutenant dug in. Peeling off a scale using his fingers, his canine teeth tore through the soft flesh and guts. It really was fruit! Bona fide, non-canned, non-gassed fruit! God! What luxury—the boys back in the chalk ditches would have strangled him before hooting and hollering! Watermann staggered, reaching out, yet waiting for permission. Dave called him over, and they dug in. The geyser pulsed in the background, and the light seemed nearer than ever.

It was saccharine. It was good.