She heard him, but the words didn’t register. He looked and sounded somehow funny, and she laughed and pointed to him, giggling stupidly.
He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up. “Jesus!” he exclaimed. “You’re a hell of a piece. Too bad your insides don’t match your outsides. Come on!”
He pulled her out into the hall and dragged her down a flight of wooden stairs. She felt as if she were floating, and made flying motions with her free arm and motor sounds with her voice.
A few other young women peered out from second floor rooms. None of ’em pretty as me, she thought smugly.
“Stop that giggling!” the man commanded, but it sounded so funny she giggled more.
The downstairs was a bar, some sawdust on the floor, a few round tables, and a small service bar to one side. It was dimly lit, and empty.
“Oh, hell,” he said, almost sadly, reaching into a cash drawer behind the bar. “You ain’t even earned your keep here, and you burned your clothes on the last flyer. Here—fifty reals,” he continued, stuffing a few bills in the lace panty. “When you come to out in the street or the woods or the sheriff’s office, buy some clothes and a ticket out. I’ve had it!”
He picked her up as if she weighed nothing, and, opening the door with one hand, tossed her rudely into the darkening street. The chilly air and the hard landing brought her down a bit, and she looked around, feeling lost and alone.
She suddenly didn’t want to be seen. Although there were few people about, there were some nearby who would see her in a few moments. She saw a dark alleyway between the bar and a store and crawled into it. It was very dark and cold, and smelled a little of old garbage. But at least she was concealed.
Suddenly the streetlights popped on, and deepened the shadows in which she sat confused. The shock of where she was and her situation broke through into her conscious mind. She was still high, and her body still tingled, particularly when rubbed. She still wanted to rub it, but she was aware of her circumstances.
I’m alone in a crazy place I don’t know, practically nude and with the temperature dropping fast, she thought miserably. How much worse can things get?
As if in answer, there was a rumbling and a series of static discharges, and the temperature dropped even more.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she started crying at the helplessness of her position. She had never been more miserable in her life.
A man was crossing the street, walking toward the bar. He stopped suddenly. Lightning flashed, illuminating her for a brief moment. He looked puzzled, and came toward the alley. She was folded up, arms around her knees, head down against them. She rocked as she cried.
He saw her and stared in disbelief. Now what the hell? he thought.
He reached out and touched her bare shoulder, and she started, looked up at him, saw the concern on his face.
“What’s the matter, little lady?” he asked gently.
She looked up with anguished face and started to speak, but couldn’t.
She was, even in this state, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
“Nothing’s that bad,” he tried to soothe her. “Where do you live? I’ll take you home. You’re not hurt, are you?”
She shook her head negatively, and coughed a little. “No, no,” she managed. “Don’t have a home. Thrown out.”
He squatted next to her. The lightning and thunder continued, but the rain held off still.
“Come on with me, then,” he said in that same soft tone. “I’ve got a place just down the road. Nobody there but me. You can stay until you decide what to do.”
Her head shook in confusion. She didn’t know what to do. Could she trust him? Dare she take this opportunity?
A strange, distant voice whispered in her brain. It said, “Can you feel it? Fear, greed, horror, ambition, burning within you, consuming you!… Perfection is the object of the experiment, not the component… Don’t torture yourself, run away from your fears. Face them! Stand up to them! Fight them with goodness, mercy, charity, compassion…”
And trust? she wondered suddenly. Oh, hell! What have I got to lose if I go? What do I have if I don’t?
“I’ll go,” she said softly. He helped her up, gently, carefully, and brushed the dirt off her. He’s very big, she realized. I only come up to his neck.
“Come on,” he urged, and took her hand.
She hesitated. “I don’t want—want to go out there looking like this,” she said nervously.
“There’s nothing wrong with the way you look,” he replied in a tone that had nothing if not sincerity. “Nothing at all. Besides, the storm’s about to break, I think. Most folks will stay inside.”
Again she looked uncertain. “What about us?” she asked. “Won’t we get wet?”
“There’s shelter along the way,” he said casually. “Besides, a little water won’t hurt.”
She let him lead her down the deserted street of the town and out into the countryside. The storm continued to be visual and audible, but not as yet wet. The landscape seemed eerie, illuminated in the flashes.
The temperature had dropped from about fifteen degrees Celsius to around eight degrees due to the storm. She shivered.
He looked at her, concerned, feeling the tremors in her hand.
“Want my shirt?” he asked.
“But then you’ll be cold,” she protested.
“I like cold weather,” he responded, taking off his shirt. His broad, muscled, hairy chest reactivated those funny feelings in her again. Carefully he draped the shirt around her. It fit her like a circus tent, but it felt warm and good.
She didn’t know what to say, and something, some impulse, caused her to lean into him and put her arm around his bare chest. He responded by putting his arm around her, and they resumed walking.
Somehow it felt good, calming, and her anxieties seemed to flee. She looked up at him. “What’s your name?” she asked in a tone of voice she didn’t quite comprehend, but was connected, somehow, in its throaty softness to those strange feelings.
“W—” he started to say, then said, instead, “Kally Tonge. I have a farm not much farther down the road.”
She noticed the bandage on the side of his head. “You’re injured.”
“It’s nothing—now,” he replied, and chuckled. “As a matter of fact, you’re just what the doctor ordered—literally. He said somebody should be with me through the night.”
“Does it hurt much?” she asked.
“Not now,” he replied. “Medicine’s pretty advanced here, although as you know the place is rather primitive overall.”
“I really don’t know much about this world,” she replied truthfully. “I’m not from here.”
“I could have guessed that,” he said lightly. “Where do you come from?”
“I don’t think you’ve ever heard of it,” she replied. “From nowhere now, really.”
“What’s your name?” he asked.
She started to say “Nova,” the name the man had called her, but instead she said, “Vardia.”
He stopped and looked at her strangely. “That’s a Com name, isn’t it?” he asked. “You’re not from any Comworld!”
“Sort of,” she replied enigmatically, “but I’ve changed a lot.”
“On the Well World?” he asked sharply.
She gasped, a small sound of surprise escaping her lips. “You—you’re one of the people from the Well!” she exclaimed. “You woke up in that body, as I did! That head wound killed Kally Tonge and you took over, as I did!”
“Twice when I needed someone you comforted me, even defended me,” he said.
“Wuju!” she exclaimed, and an amazed smile spread over her face. She looked him over critically. “My, how you’ve changed!”