Whatever Gods May Be by George P. Saunders Read Free Book Online

instructed, Zolan struggled to his feet with great difficulty, using one of the Stinger's claws as a crutch.  He grimaced, staggered and cried out softly, as each painful beat of his heart pounded itself into his brain.  But at last he was able to make his way to the lagoon and the waters edge.
    Zolan turned to glance at the Stinger and Tom.  The boy had been treated earlier to a protein concentrate the Stinger had concocted, and was now sleeping deeply.  Tom adjusted to Thalick's presence quickly; within a few hours, the toy was crawling all over the Stinger, even helping himself at last, without Zolan's assistance, to the gummy extract that Thalick had produced for him.
    It was a peaceful scene to behold, but Zolan knew that Thalick, even at rest, was in the process of cleansing the boy's mind of all recent horrors encountered in the Redeye City.  Thalick had more than once offered to liberate Zolan's more unpleasant memories for him, but the man had always good-naturedly declined such treatment; good or bad, his remembrances were things he wanted desperately to cling to for as long as he lived.  However, for the sake of the boy's future adjustment and return to the world of the living, Zolan had decided that the Stinger's brainwash techniques were appropriate and beneficial for Tom.  His mind would still unfortunately carry the scenes of recent grizzly happenings, but with Thalick's hypnotic therapy, such memories would be referred to only on the rarest occasions.  As the boy matured, it was possible that the entire Redeye incident could be forgotten completely.
    A wave of guilt washed over Zolan.  Even at the hour of his death, he was leaving yet one more responsibility for the old Stinger.  Stabbing at the water with his stick, Zolan watched the waves ripple and lap across the surface to the surrounding shores.  As the water calmed down once more, the soft reflection of the rising Little One crept into view.
    Zolan turned around to study the faint glow humping over the low hills.  An hour from now, and the speeding sun would be flaring overhead for a few moments, before racing to its farthest point around the world, just in time to reappear by morning for a repeat performance.
    It would be a morning that Zolan would not live to see.
    Thalick watched the old man intently.  He did not move from where he lay nestled near the entrance of the glade, nor did he attempt to communicate with Zolan.  For just a few moments, he relied solely on senses he so rarely needed; all eight eyes simply stared at the man watching the evening sunrise.
    For Thalick, the day had been nothing short of dreadful.  Due to Zolan's sudden heart attack, all question of travel back to the Mesa, or even to the nearer cities of Zolansville or New Phillips was out of the question.  The man could not risk the stress.  His heart had been, in a matter of seconds, critically damaged.  Thalick doubted that the coronary was psychosomatic on Zolan's part, but regardless, it now appeared that Zolan's morning prediction concerning his own demise was no longer confined to the realm of the impossible.  Zolan's heart was now as flimsy as paper; even the Stinger could not pinpoint accurately when the final blow would come.
    But the fact that Zolan's death was now verifiably imminent, gave the Stinger something akin to a throbbing migraine headache.  Intense emotions flared within him, but puzzlement and helplessness were the two monsters that threatened to squash him completely.
    How Tom had survived in the tunnels for so long was no longer a mystery; but what allowed him to do so, and resurface safely, was far the more disturbing to contemplate.  Even after a follow-up investigation of the immediate vicinity and tunnels below, Thalick could still not pick up evidence of any other life signs.  Only Tom's markings registered, with no indication that even an outcast Redeye had occupied these remote sands or subways for centuries.  Yet, something or