They were wandering around in the sand, looking like house cats who’d slipped out the front door for the first time. I didn’t think any of them had ever left their home existence before.
“I’m taking that truck and using it to sneak into the Gray Men’s cube base. With luck, they’ll think we’re their kind. Who’s coming with me?”
Any idea of combat squads and support squads had been cast aside. Now it was down to who had the guts to keep going when death was a clear possibility. Most of them wouldn’t even meet my eyes. A few looked positively terrified.
Fiona volunteered immediately. “I’m in,” she said.
I was surprised when Rheinman stepped forward next. “Just don’t get in my way again,” he said. He held his hammer in his hand with tight knuckles.
I nodded, letting his bad attitude go without comment. “Who else?” I asked.
In the end, most of them abandoned us. I had high hopes for Abigail, but she refused with a shake of her head. Among the riflemen, only Souza stepped forward.
“Can I have Old Red’s stuff?” Souza asked Gilling.
Gilling nodded once. The man pulled on the red cap and grabbed up the heat-blasting rag doll with a tight smile. So that was how you moved up in this outfit, I thought to myself.
“What about you, Gilling?” I asked.
Gilling put up his hands. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll open your new rip for you. Let’s go back home now before we all get killed in this strange land.”
I tried not to smile, but I failed. That was what I had been hoping for. I jumped out of the cockpit and headed for the shimmering rip. The others followed me hastily, with many worried glances over their shoulders.
Abigail was the last to come through. I knew at that point the rip would be exposed to the Gray Men. They seemed to have some way of sensing these phenomena, even if it was only by spotting them visually. It wouldn’t be long now before Gray Men came to investigate.
“That’s all of us,” I told Gilling. “Close the rip fast.”
He shook his head. “I can’t. It’s like a fire. It has to burn itself out.”
I looked down at the various foodstuffs they’d poured into the bowl of the big fountain. It looked like this rip was going to last for days if we didn’t do something.
“Shovels, everyone!” I shouted. “Empty out this material or the Gray Men will come for us.”
People hastened to do as I asked. But the rifleman named Souza stepped forward. “Let me handle it,” he said.
I nodded.
“Everyone step back!” Souza roared.
We did as he asked and he lifted the rag doll. I’d seen two people die who handled it now, and I’d begun to think that if I’d ever seen a cursed object, this was it.
With a broad grin on his face, teeth clenching, Souza released gouts of heat into the bowl of the fountain. It wasn’t quite like a flamethrower—the heat wasn’t visible flame. I suspected this was because the projection of heat wasn’t done by spraying out gas or flaming liquid. Instead, it was more as if pure energy gushed out of Souza and his upraised toy. Maybe it caused an infrared beam to lance out and set every molecule it touched into rapid motion—the very essence of heat.
The stuff in the fountain hissed, steamed, and then finally burst into lively flames. Everyone backed several steps farther away. Only Abigail stood close, shielding us from detection in this world now, as she had in the last. I appreciated her focus and reliability. If any of us were owed a medal when this was over, it would be her.
Before Souza was done, I saw blurry figures stepping through the rip. The Gray Men!
“They’re coming through!” I shouted.
Everyone who had a weapon raised it. Souza sent more heat toward them, causing the blaze to leap higher. The four man-shapes I could see standing in the midst of the inferno hesitated.
“Will it burn through to them?” I asked Gilling.
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. There are three existences here, our world, theirs, and the in-between of the rip. If they stay inside the rip, bullets, fire, explosions—nothing will affect them.
They stood there as the rip began to slowly die. It was being starved for fuel now. It was in competition with the flames Souza had created.
Souza himself ran with sweat and his teeth gleamed wetly. He was wild with excitement. Using his object so thoroughly, so successfully, had brought him a rush of joy. I knew the feeling, but could tell the sensation he was experiencing was infinitely more intense.
Finally, Souza stepped back and unslung his rifle. “Let ’em come now,” he said. “I’ll shoot them as they burn.”