Anthony DeCosmo - Fusion

In years past he would have craved a chance to pick the Old Man’s brain, despite being told on numerous occasions not to ask questions. Then, in the years since his return from that alternate Earth, Trevor had found comfort with the old-timer because he might be-whatever his true nature-the only entity in the universe that could understand Trevor’s plight.

“Now is that a way to go talkin’ to your ol’ pal? C’mon now, Trevvy, let’s sit down and you can tell me all ‘bout your plans to finish up the job you got here.”

Trevor stopped midway and cocked his head to one side.

“Huh? Finish up the job? What are you talkin’ about?”

“You gone crazy or sometin’ since the last time we chatted? Why I’m talkin’ ‘bout you kickin’ all the alien interlopers off this rock. Or have you decided to take an early re-tire-mint?”

The Old Man might well have suggested Trevor fly to the moon. Talk of kicking the aliens off the Earth sounded equally as out of place, considering the situation. After the invasion of California by The Order’s war machines, thoughts of victory had turned to thoughts of survival. Surely the Old Man knew as much?

“I think you’ve finally started to go senile. Do you know what’s happening out there?”

The Old Man had always known the situation, as if he watched the whole play unfold from some astrological balcony. Sometimes he knew the situation better than Trevor.

“What’s that, Trevvy? A little setback gotchya down?”

“Set back? Set back? Oh, my God, you’ve gone off the deep end.”

“Now, wait now, I hear what you’re saying. Okay,” the Old Man smiled, but it seemed an unsure smile. “You do have some problems, Trev. Better check your flanks. You got company comin’. Now I’m not supposed to be sharin’ that bit of info,” the mysterious entity winked, “but you and me have been known to push the old envelope of them rules now and again, right?”

“What are you-what are you saying? Does Voggoth have more forces coming at us?”

“Voggoth? You worryin’ your head about Voggoth? Sounds like you got those priorities of yours all messed up,” Trevor sensed a tone of desperation in the Old Man’s voice; something he had not heard since the time the Old Man had found out that Trevor loved Nina Forest. “He might have thrown a few monkey wrenches into things before and whatnot, but with all the shit you’ve got going he ain’t nothing but a footnote. You need to be watching out for the real problems maybe-hmmm…,” the Old Man leaned forward to whisper a secret he should not share, “…the Geryons and the Centurians. Maybe even them Chaktaw fellas, if you get my meaning.”

“What? Listen, I don’t know how long you’ve been napping but right now Voggoth is the only thing I’m worried about. He’s got-“

“Voggoth ain’t nothing! He’s insignificant! A token force! Just here to watch and keep us on our collective toes!” The sound of the Old Man shouting-a hysterical shout-knocked Trevor off balance. He had never seen such a reaction from his benefactor. This appeared more like…

Trevor’s expression corkscrewed from befuddlement to fear then to understanding.

“I can’t believe it. Holy shit, I really don’t believe it.”

“What? Now you listen, Trevvy, I don’t have time for whatever bird-brained idea that might be scheming in that noggin’ of yours.”

“I get it now. I see,” and Trevor did. And it frightened him. It also angered him. He directed his anger at the Old Man. “You’re in denial. You refuse to see what Voggoth is doing here, is that it? What’s wrong, this wasn’t part of the agreement?” Trevor sneered, “Just a token force. Just to observe. Just to keep us on our toes. Bullshit.”

“Watch it, now. Listen here. You can’t understand. Your little brain-“

“It’s you who doesn’t understand. You can’t believe it, can you? You can’t believe that Voggoth would break those precious rules of yours and send a full-blown army to wipe us out. I’ll bet he did the same to the Feranites, too, didn’t he?”

The Old Man’s virtual eyes widened at the mention of the Feranites, a race originally nicknamed by humanity as the Tribe of the Red Hand. While in the clutches of The Order’s torture machine, Trevor’s mind had traveled to the alternate Earth where the Feranites battled for survival. They lost.

He pushed the Old Man, “You keep talking about the rules of this little game you dragged my people into, but those rules don’t mean shit. Voggoth is here, Old Man. Why I’ll bet he’s right here, on this Earth, overseeing the whole party; I’ll bet that is against those rules of yours, too. He’s going to wipe us out unless you and your buddies do something to help.”

The Old Man did not say a word. He sort of gaped at Trevor like a lost puppy. That filled Trevor with another idea. A very unsettling one.

“Of course,” Trevor paced the aisle as he went on. “Let me guess, they aren’t talking to you anymore. How would you put it? Hmmm… Okay, let’s try this: they ain’t takin’ your calls n’more, are they? This is the Duass, we’re not home right now please leave a message and we’ll get back to you. Beeeepp.”

“Don’t push Trev. You don’t know-”

Outside the base’s air raid siren churned to life again. The screaming klaxon caused a pause in the conversation and it also gave Trevor another surge of anger.

He continued with a fierce edge in his voice, “You know why they won’t talk to you anymore? Because they don’t mind you losing, that’s why. So what if Voggoth is doing more than he’s supposed to on this planet. Why, I’ll bet they don’t even know what he’s doing here-they don’t want to know. They refuse to look. Deny it, even, like people who hear someone screaming for help but don’t want to be involved so they block it out. You’re being blocked out, Old Man.”

“Stop it, now.”

“As long as it’s not them, it’s all good. Why I’ll bet he’s whispered in their ear something like, ‘the humans have been breakin’ the rules so I’ll just even the odds a bit’ or ‘hey, Mr. Hivvan, just turn the other way while I do this and I promise to help you out on your world, too.’ That leaves you out in the cold, Old Man. It’d be funny, but I’m stuck in the freezer with you.”

The sound of bombs thudding to the ground echoed from the air field and in through the broken windows of the empty building. A shard of glass fell and shattered on the dirty floor.

“Where’s the smart old guy who I once thought might be God? Boy, was I an idiot. You aren’t any god. You’re just another human being like me and old Voggoth is playing the spoilsport in this little game of yours.”

The Old Man said nothing.

“Because of your arrogance every human being on this Earth is going to be wiped out.”

The Old Man sounded almost conciliatory in his tone, “There’s more to it than that, Trev, why there’s a whole bunch o’ universes out there and-“

“I don’t care.”

A bomb exploded much closer this time. Pieces of plaster fell from the ceiling; the walls rattled.

Trevor’s words came with a hefty force. The force of billions of dead people; the victims of this game the Old Man and his cronies played.

“Listen to what’s going on out there! I don’t care about you or the other parallel worlds or whatever the stupid-ass big picture is. I care about my people. Here. Now. That’s what it boils down to, you hear me? If you can help me it’s time to speak up, otherwise I’m done listening to you. I’m done with your cryptic messages, winks, nods and half-assed metaphors. If you got a trick up your sleeve then lay it out. If you don’t, stop wasting my time. Thing is, I think you’re all alone now. I think the others have abandoned you. But don’t worry, once we’re out of the way then whoever is left-well, they’ll all abandon someone else. Maybe it’ll be the Chaktaw next time. Maybe their Old Man or Old Woman or whatever will be on the outside looking in. And when the Chaktaw are done, the Centurians will be next, then the Witiko, then whoever. I don’t give a shit.”