However, with the arrival of the Lymmpospopha, my presence could no longer remain a secret. This creature spotted me immediately, and gave an enquiring hoot in my direction, thereby pointing me out to the Zhode, who seemed rather disturbed that I should be observing this annual ritual. Thinking of poor Miss Avander—desperately waiting for my fuses—I slashed out with the letter-opener, and thus removed the Lymmpospopha’s tiny head from its gelatinous “shoulders.”
The poor creature staggered backward into the Ruins, spouting a pale ichor that was not exceedingly pleasant to the nose. Its enraged mate, the Zhode, now leaped at me, so that I was forced to deliver a rather cunningly-placed, fatal stab to its tentacular mass. It, too, fell shrieking into the Ruins, and in the distance I could now hear other things coming to investigate.
Thinking it wise to bring Miss Avander her fuses as swiftly as possible, I grabbed up my candle, smoothed down my hair, and dashed down the impossibly ancient avenue in the direction of that fair lady’s home.
Now imagine my genuine surprise when, approaching Miss Avander’s tiny cottage, I discovered bright lights pouring brightly forth from all her windows—and even a porch light burning cheerily above her red door! I rang the doorbell, thinking it very peculiar that there should be electric bulbs glowing when the fuse had burnt out.
The door at last opened wide, revealing a very lovely Miss Avander dressed in a beautiful blue gown. Needless to say, there were electric lights burning within the house, too.
(And here I must make a very unpleasant statement—for it appears I have, most scandalously, lied to you. Miss Avander had not really burnt out a fuse—and I, you see, had not truly believed her story quite as much as I had hinted earlier. Indeed, I had not even brought fuses with me, for the thumping box in my pocket turned out to contain chocolate bon-bons, and these I duly presented to Miss Avander.)
“Ah, Mr. Leandro,” she smiled, “do come in. Did you have a pleasant journey through the Ruins?”
“Thank you, Miss Avander. As a matter of fact, my journey was very unsettling, for I discovered the corpse of a paper carrier, and have aggravated the spawning hordes without. Even now, I fear, they march upon your home—hoping to destroy us both.”
“Oh, do sit down, Mr. Leandro. What an awful tale. Care for a mint? And what do you suggest we do?”
“Thank you. I suggest that we flee from here, immediately, and return to my house, where I am properly prepared for such an attack. Unless, of course, you happen to have a cache of weapons hidden somewhere?”
“Here, let me help you loosen your coat. No, I fear I have no weapons aside from the letter-opener you gave me last year. But will you not stay?”
“Well, er, now that you bring it up, perhaps I could do with a short rest. We can certainly leave in a few moments, just as easily.”
“I’m glad… that you see it in such… a manner… Mr. Leandro.”
“Yes, I believe a few moments… will not hurt… Miss… Miss…”
“Avander.”
But then, just as we had begun an evening of fascinating, intelligent discussion, Miss Avander’s front door—the bright red one, you may recall—splintered into pieces. A six-taloned claw smashed through without any regard to the high cost of finely-crafted doors, and withdrew again.
“Well,” said I, “perhaps we would be just as well off to depart immediately. Miss Avander, have you a fresh candle?”
“I’m sorry,” Miss Avander admitted, “I have naught but a flashlight.”
“Well, all right, but you must carry it. And now, out the back exit!”
We hurried through Miss Avander’s home, and she opened wide that narrow door in her kitchen which led—by means of a secret tunnel—through some of the Ruins, and onto the avenue a short distance from Miss Avander’s house. For various reasons, this exit had proved indispensible on certain occasions when Miss Avander had still been “Mrs.” Avander.
We emerged, minutes later, onto the avenue, to see a mob of hooting Lymmpospophae and shrieking Zhodes overwhelming Miss Avander’s tiny home. To our dismay, we were spotted immediately by one member of the crowd, who hooted and drew us to the attention of the others.
“Now, Miss Avander,” I recommended, “we must run—and don’t trip on the newspaper carrier.”
We dashed off down the avenue, while behind us the actions of the spawning things were rechanneled to pursuing us. In a few minutes we came to the blocky, younger Ruins, and though we ran through these as quickly as we could, the sounds of pursuit grew ever louder behind us.
Moments later, we were out of the Ruins, and I saw, in the distance, the lights of my house. We raced up the walkway, flung open the front door, and locked ourselves within. I went immediately to a panel set in the wall beside the door, and flipped on all the outside flood lights—as the Zhodes and Lymmpospophae dislike light of any sort. Through the window I saw figures gathering in the shadows; hoots and cries of “Da-li! Da-li!” came repeatedly to my ears. The lights wouldn’t hold them off for very much longer, and now only my ingenuity—and preparation—would save us.
I found another button-dotted panel, hidden behind one of my more sensitive Leandro originals, and this proved the key to our salvation.
“Miss Avander,” I said, “what I might do is a very ungentlemanly thing, and utterly immoral besides. So I would appreciate it if you would press these buttons in my stead.”
Miss Avander graciously acquiesced, and placed her dainty finger one by one on each of the buttons, and pushed them. And one by one, coincident with the pressing of the respective buttons, there were unpleasant explosions outside in the shadows all around my house.
These were followed by utterly awful thumps on the roof as the hordes without were demolished by my carefully placed explosives, and flung every which way; it took us three days to clean up the resultant, widespread mess. As Miss Avander’s house had been destroyed by the enraged beasts, she remained as a guest in my house—and thus was able to assist with repairs, as well as provide engaging conversation.
We have not since been bothered by Zhodes or Lymmpospophae, and you people inform me that this is because both of these rare species are now extinct.
Certainly, I could not have foreseen that during that particular part of the season, the mass-migration that you call the Influx had begun, thus bringing all members of both species into the Ruins. And I certainly could not have guessed that they would all attack my home simultaneously, and hence be destroyed by my defenses.
Yes, I am sorry that they are extinct—for such an occurrence is always a tragic thing—but how can you blame me for their extinction? After all, it was Miss Avander who pushed the buttons!
“Spawn of the Ruins” copyright 1977 by Marc Laidlaw. First appeared in Shayol #1 (November 1977), edited by Patricia Cadigan and Arnie Fenner.
TISSUE
“Here,” Daniel said, handing Paula the photograph. “Take a look at this, then tell me you still want to meet my father.”
Paula hefted it in one hand; it was framed in dark wood, covered with a heavy rectangle of glass. A fringe of dust clung to the glass’s edges, under the frame, blurring the borders of the photograph into a spidery haze.
“What is it? Who is it?”
“Us. My family.”
“But there’s only…”
Paula’s words faded away as she stared at the photograph, trying to understand. Squinting her eyes, polishing the glass—nothing seemed to resolve it. It was merely a simple figure, a person, but as blotched and mottled as an old wall, with sharply ragged edges that unsettled Paula: she couldn’t focus, it was like looking through a prism. There was a disturbing disparity within it, too; abrupt internal changes of tone and texture.