summoned up. There had been a monster at Santa de Nogueira, a monster she was unable to describe. It had been vast and devastating, and it was banished now, by the slightest of miracles.** Elder Seth had been around for centuries, and sometimes they spoke inside each other's heads. He had to get rid of her, and she had to stop him before he ended the world.
*See 'Route 666' in the
** See
In a way, Elvis wished he didn't know all this. He had seen enough to make him believe her, but he wished it were three weeks ago and all he had to worry about was the Good Ole Boys trying to yank his license or coming home some night to find a hoodhead bomb rigged inside his fridge.
'One thing, lady?'
'What?'
'That million dollars? It ain't enough.'
Krokodil laughed. 'You want more. Ten million? We've got it. Gold bullion, cashplastic, jewels, negotiable information…'
'How did you get it?'
'I'm Frankenstein's Daughter, remember? Hawk and I stole it from corp convoys. GenTech and Winter can spare it. After all, it's in a good cause.'
'I suppose so, if saving the world
'Don't think I haven't thought about it.'
They were winding between islands, not pushing the boat too much. Elvis had been aware for an hour or so that there were creatures out there in the swamp. They might be human, they might not. They didn't want to be seen, and that meant he didn't want to see them. Last night, the Cajuns had told him about the babies lost to the local spooks, the Suitcase People.
'Maybe the Prezz will drop all the charges if you pull it off.'
'No chance. I don't expect gratitude.'
'What do you expect?'
'Honestly? To be dead.'
'But what if you come through?'
'Then I just want peace and quiet.'
A roaring split the air, and the boat started rocking violently. The waters up ahead broke and a huge head loomed out of the swamp, mud pouring from its mouth.
It was a dinosaur with a headband.
Krokodil had the Moulinex up, but something struck the bottom of the boat. The gun went off, bullets spraying the cypresses.
The dinosaur strode forwards. It was smarter than an animal.
Krokodil was off-balance. Elvis reached out, but she went over, splashing as she hit the swamp.
Green arms went around her, and she was dragged under.
'Hey,' the dinosaur said, 'leetle maan, behave, okeh?'
Elvis was trying not to be tipped out of the wildly shifting boat He didn't make it.
'I tol' you so, maaan.'
He was struggling in the filthy water with something rough-skinned and cold.
He was pulled under, and took a lungful of ghastly-tasting liquid. He fought for the surface and tried to cough it all out. Clawed hands held him fast.
He elbowed his assailant where the kidneys would have been if he were a man, and was rewarded with a satisfying grunt of pain.
Jaws snapped by his head and, holding his breath, he dived under the water.
He had lost track of Krokodil.
There was gunfire. He recognized the distinctive burp of the Moulinex, even distorted by the water. Krokodil was up and fighting.
He tried to find bottom, and just found the swamp getting thicker. His lungs were straining now, and he could only see blurred shapes in the murk.
'Where ees the maan, Frankie?'
Frankie growled in answer. He didn't know.
Elvis kicked, and swam away from the shapes. He would have to surface soon, or die.
He pushed upwards, exhaling steadily. His head above the water, he breamed again.
He could hear the Suitcase People, but not see them. They made a lot of noise as they crashed through the swamp.
Something took a bite out of the flesh of his arm, and he swallowed a yelp of pain.
He turned, his knife drawn, and stabbed out. He was worried that he'd have to face another one of the man monsters.
The knife speared a trilobite against the bole of a tree. The big louse wriggled and died.
'Prehistoric bastard,' he whispered, pulling his knife free.
There wasn't any more gunfire. Had Krokodil got away?
He wanted to get some solid, dry-ish soil under him. He pulled on the lower branches of the tree, and found himself an island.
The mud dried on his pants and jacket. He hated looking and feeling like this. He had been dirty enough as a kid, always running around in ragged blue jeans. He wished he had left all that behind.
Something moved in the water, and Elvis gripped his knife-hilt harder.
It bobbed into view, and he let out his breath. He fished the guitar out of the swamp. It didn't even have any water in it.
He cradled the instrument in his lap like a baby. It was silly, but he felt better with 'Ti-Mouche's gift.
A huge shadow fell over him.
'Hey, Guitar Maaan, how about givin' us a song?'
PART THREE: ALL MY TRIALS
I
'It's like this, Lola-baby,' Mantle sleazed, scratching his ballooning gut with an American Excess goldcard, 'I figure it's not right to take the two kids out of their school and their old neighbourhood. I have to think this whole thing out, you know sweetbutt. 'Cause I don't want them to grow up with a warped sense of values because they're rich, y'know. So I figure Tish and Reggie can stay with their mommy. I'll still see them on weekends and National Holidays, but, you know, my lifestyle now is, like, very alien to what they have come to expect. So, like I said, I thought the fairest thing was to leave them out of it…'
Gavin Mantle was floating on an aircushion in his private swimming pool. He was wearing immodest Ballsac swimtrunks that showed off the first of the GenTech-financed bio-amendments he had demanded. She understood that his initial request had been anatomically unfeasible.
The bottom of the doughnut-shaped pool was scattered with gems, inset into the concrete. They sparkled as the sunlight filtered down to them. Tropical fish swam between the beams, perpetually high from the trace
