Zombie Lover Page 9

  The first head’s mouth opened. Fire shot out, just missing them. “That’s a fire hydrant!” Bink cried. “Run!”

  They ran so fast their surroundings became a blur. Their feet stepped on egregious puns, getting all pungent. Bink was disgusted.

  Suddenly the surroundings cleared. They were out of the comic strip.

  They eased to a halt. “Now I know what Gnome Well meant,” Dolph said. “I don’t want to go through that again.”

  “At least the regular landscape is relatively clear,” Dor agreed. “But have we lost the trail?”

  They looked around. Soon Bink saw the footprints emerging from the strip and proceeding west.

  Bink, lagging back a bit, heard a faint stirring in the comic strip. Then there came the voice of the running commentary. “And another foolish traveler braves the ticklish zone.” There was the sound of stifled laughter, as if someone was being unwillingly tickled.

  Was that coincidence, or was there really someone or something following them? Bink decided not to say anything until he had more definite evidence.

  “This is slow,” Dolph said. “Why don’t I assume roc form and carry us swiftly along it?”

  “And fly over any other comic strips,” Dor agreed.

  That would get them well ahead of any pursuit, Bink thought with satisfaction. If there was any.

  Dor became a roc, and they got onto his huge feet and caught hold. Then he spread his wings and took off, flying low. Bink saw the footprints becoming a streak, because of the speed. They were traversing a great plain. This supposedly tiny world was huge, from this close.

  There was a bank of clouds sheltering a storm. They veered around it, and passed a rainbow. Dor pointed: “Look—rainbow trout!”

  Sure enough, there were pretty fish swimming in the rainbow.

  They passed over another comic strip, and Bink realized that these were the boundaries between regions of Ptero. They were surely effective; no one would cross such strips carelessly.

  The footsteps passed through the strip and emerged on the other side, unchanged. The Zombie Master must have had a cast-iron sense of humor.

  They crossed a forest, catching glimpses of the prints under the trees. Then something familiar loomed ahead. “Castle Roogna!” Dor exclaimed. “How can it be here?”

  “All the creatures who ever were, will be, or might be are here,” Bink reminded him. “So I suppose that all their houses and architecture can be here too.”

  Dolph came to land before the castle. He missed by a little, and almost wound up in the zombie graveyard. “Hey!” a man cried.

  “Sorry about that,” Bink called.

  Dolph managed to clear the graveyard and land safely. They got off his feet, and he resumed manform. “So is this really Castle Roogna?” Dor asked.

  “Sure it is,” the man answered. “What did you think it was, an outhouse?”

  “We were merely surprised, for we know of a similar castle far away.”

  The man approached. Then he did a doubletake. “Why you’re Consort Dor! I didn’t know you were out today.”

  “Consort Dor?” Dor asked blankly.

  “Have you lost your memory? King Irene’s husband.”

  “I suppose I have,” Dor said, evidently taken aback. “Irene is here?”

  “Of course. If you’ve lost your memory, I’d better introduce myself. I’m Zafar the zombie lover; I tend their graveyard while they rest.”

  “That’s good,” Dor agreed.

  “I’ve got some forget-me-not extract,” Zafar said. “It nullifies the effect of a forget spell. Maybe that will help you.”

  Dor shook his head. “I don’t think so. But thanks.”

  Zafar returned to the graveyard. The three kings exchanged most of a glance. They shrugged.

  The footprints led on in. They followed.

  A huge head rose out of the moat. It was Soufflé Serpent, the moat monster. He looked at the three with surprise, as if also not aware that they had gone out, then nodded and sank back under the surface.

  “Why do I think this is about to be strange?” Dor inquired rhetorically.

  “Because it is,” Bink said. “Even for a dream.”

  A woman came to meet them at the front gate. She was about twenty seven, and was so lovely that the halls brightened as she passed.

  Bink stared. It was Chameleon.

  She recognized him at the same time. “Oh, Bink, you look eleven years younger! How did you do it?” Then she stepped into him, embraced him, and kissed him.

  Bink’s head orbited another realm, as it did when she did that. But he knew this couldn’t really be her. Because she had not entered the dream and gone to Ptero. And she was the wrong age: not her real seventy six or her youthened sixteen. And she was in the wrong phase, at the height of her beauty, instead of ugly or just this side of ordinary. So how could this be?

  Dor and Dolph stood motionless and silent, as confused as he was. Chameleon was, after all, their mother and grandmother.

  She drew back half a notch. “Oh, Bink, I’ve missed you so! I didn’t expect you back until tomorrow. Let’s go up to the bedroom right now.”

  And she was in her stupid phase, so didn’t have the wit to be discreet. How could he explain, if he figured it out himself?

  He glanced at Dor, desperate for guidance. Dor was their son. He should know. But he looked blank.

  Meanwhile, Chameleon was tugging him toward a stairway. He tried to hang back, but couldn’t. “Oh, go on up,” a stair told him. “You’re only young twice.”

  “We’ll meet you—after,” Dolph called helpfully.

  After a few confused moments, Bink found himself in their chamber. Chameleon closed the door, pushed him onto the bed, so that he had to sit, then sat on his lap. Her bottom was marvelously soft. She wrapped her arms around his head and pulled him in for a welcoming hug. Her divinely firm bosom pressed against his face. She smelled of heaven. His senses melted into one great blissful mass of joy.

  But she couldn’t be his wife! The real Chameleon was back in Xanth, in Castle Roogna, maybe in this very chamber. But it wasn’t the same castle; it couldn’t be.

  She got up and began removing her clothing. “I can’t get over how young you look,” she breathed. “Almost the way you were when we were first youthened. You look wonderful.” Her dress came off. She was one of those women who looked better with every glance.

  If he didn’t do something soon, he would lose all control. His twenty one-year-old body was eager to summon a battalion of storks in a quarter of an instant. He loved Chameleon, and desired her, especially when she was like this. But how could it be?

  She stood before him in bra and panties, not only unbearably lovely, but excruciatingly sexy. He was in danger of freaking out. Only his real mental age of eighty one enabled him to tide through the sight.

  Bit by bit, he worked it out. All the people and creatures who ever existed or might exist were here on Ptero. That included all of the Xanth folk. So Chameleon was here too. She really was his wife.

  She took off the underwear. His eyeballs were heating; he had to blink repeatedly to prevent them from frying.

  But she was older. No less desirable, but older. Time was supposed to be geography here, or vice versa; people could be any age. So she was twenty seven, here in Castle Roogna.

  And this wasn’t even the real Ptero, but a dream image of it. So this was a dream Chameleon, not the real one of either Ptero or Xanth.

  She started to undress him. Her touch was wonderfully gentle yet compelling.

  It still felt like adultery.

  “Chameleon,” he said. “There’s—there’s something I must say.”

  “Can’t it wait?” she asked, drawing off his shirt.

  “Chameleon, I’m from Xanth.”

  “We’re all on Xanth, in our off year,” she said. She started work on his trousers.

  “I mean I’m not from Ptero. I’m visiting from Xanth. I’m not—not the Bink w
ho’s due back tomorrow.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “Can you stand up, so I can get these off?”

  “Chameleon, please! We can’t do this.”

  She paused. “We can’t? But it’s so much more fun when we’re young.”

  “Chameleon, I love you, but I’m not the Bink who lives here. It would be wrong to—”

  She began to get the message of rejection. Her eyes turned moist, making him feel unbearably guilty. “You don’t want to?”

  How could he explain? The smart Chameleon would have understood the moment she saw their age differences, but this was the stupid one. Alternate worlds within worlds were beyond her limited comprehension.

  He tried another tack. “Chameleon, suppose I was someone else who just looked like Bink but wasn’t him. Would you still want to do this?”

  She struggled with the concept, but it was too much. So she kissed him instead.

  Bink gave himself up for lost. He still felt it was wrong, but he loved and desired her so much that he couldn’t fight it any longer. He knew she was completely innocent of bad intent; she loved him and wanted him, and that was the whole of her present understanding. Would her opposite phase be angry, when she came into play? Or intrigued?

  Chameleon got back to work on his trousers. Bink offered no further resistance.

  Then the door opened and a man entered. “Hello.”

  “Hello, Bink,” Chameleon said without looking, recognizing the voice.

  Then, slowly, the realization sank in. She paused. Then her head turned.

  There was Bink, thirty two years old, her true husband. “I had some lucky breaks, and managed to get back a day early,” he said.

  “Yes, I know,” she agreed. “We’re—” She paused again, her head slowly turning back to the Bink on the bed.

  “Yes, there are two of us,” Bink-21 said.

  “So I see,” Bink-32 agreed.

  Chameleon’s head turned back and forth between them. “I don’t understand.”

  Now Bink-21 could explain again, knowing that there was someone present who would understand. “I am the Bink from Xanth. I am visiting Ptero in a dream. I’m not really here. Except in spirit. So I think I should turn the bed over to the real Bink at this point.”

  But now Bink-32 protested. “I’m the dream?”

  “I’m sure you’re real,” Bink-21 said. “But my image of you is in a dream. Just as I’m real, but not really here. Since Chameleon is a dream too, she’s yours.”

  “She is a dream,” Bink-32 agreed.

  “A perfect dream. And I love her. But I have my real Chameleon back on Xanth.”

  “There’s another woman?” Chameleon asked plaintively.

  The two Binks exchanged a glance. “No,” Bink-32 said. “There is only you, Chameleon. And two of me. So one of us will go, and the other will be with you.”

  She smiled. “That’s nice.”

  Bink-21 got up and hastily donned his shirt. “I think my talent is operating. It will not allow me to be harmed by magic. Since at least one of us is me, the other can’t do anything harmful to the one. So it enabled you to get home in time.”

  “Yes,” Bink-32 agreed. He took off his shirt.

  “We must talk, when we can,” Bink-21 said.

  “Yes. Soon.” Bink-32 lay on the bed.

  As Bink-21 went out the door, Chameleon was resuming where she had left off. Her confusion had been abated. That would not have been the case with a smarter woman. Both Binks understood that. Neither could stand to cause her the slightest pain. He closed the door behind him and headed for the stairs.

  He had done the right thing. Yet there was that in him that almost wished that his other self had been too late.

  He turned a corner and saw something just vanishing into a chamber, as if hiding. He remembered the suspicion that something might be following them. Could it be doing so even here in Castle Roogna? No, surely it was just a castle servant getting out of the way, or maybe a shy ghost.

  Downstairs he found two Dors and one Irene in animated dialogue. For a moment he couldn’t tell them apart. Then one Dor spied him and smiled. “How was it, father?”

  “I didn’t—I mean—”

  Suddenly that Dor and Irene burst out laughing. “Fooled you,” he said. “We’re the natives.”

  Bink looked at the other Dor, who nodded. Then he saw that the natives, like Bink-32 and Chameleon-27, were older. He was sixty six instead of fifty five, and she was sixty five. He shouldn’t have been fooled. “You aged well,” he admitted.

  Then two Dolphs came down the wall, with one matronly Electra and two stunning young women. The women spied Bink and charged him together. One was a redhead with green eyes and bright clothes, the other a dark-haired, dark-eyed creature in black clothing. They embraced him from either side. Who were they?

  “What a handsome young man you are,” the redhead said, kissing his right cheek.

  “Yes, just right for us,” the jet-blackhead said, nibbling on his left ear.

  Finally he put it together. Dolph—Electra—eleven years hence—twin seven-year-old daughters who would now be eighteen. Each. “Dawn and Eve!” he exclaimed. “My great-grandchildren.”

  They laughed together. “Aw, he caught on,” Dawn said. “Now we can’t show him this.” She leaned forward just enough to provide a glimpse of her fine cleavage inside a bright halter. She had evidently inherited an aspect of Chameleon.

  “Or this,” Eve agreed, lifting her short skirt just enough to show the edge of a dark panty on a firm bottom. There was another aspect.

  “Girls!” Electra cried, appalled. “Behave yourselves!”

  They laughed again, hardly chastised. “What brings you here, Great Grandpa?” Dawn asked innocently.

  “If it’s not to sneak peeks at your demure descendants,” Eve added mischievously.

  “It’s to talk with the Zombie Master,” Bink said. “The traveling one.” Then he paused with another realization. “But you already know this, because you have just touched my flesh and my clothing, and your talents are to know anything about anything animate or inanimate.”

  “Shux,” Dawn said, pouting cutely. “He’s getting harder to tease.”

  “But maybe worth the challenge,” Eve said.

  “You girls were sheer mischief when you were seven,” Bink said. “I think you’re worse now.”

  “Thank you,” they said together, blushing with pleasure.

  “But we shall have to let our visitors go on,” Irene said. “Before their trail gets cold. The Zombie Master didn’t pause here long, and he’s still a day ahead of them.”

  “Where did he go?” Bink asked.

  “To Pyramid,” Dawn said.

  “We’ve been there,” Eve said.

  “With a nice faun,” Dawn agreed.

  “With whom we really had fun,” Eve concluded.

  Electra looked about ready to explode. “Teasing,” Dawn said quickly. “Nothing more.”

  “Unfortunately,” Eve said.

  “But we helped him save us all from dread marginalization.”

  “And clued him in on his true love: Mare Imbri.”

  “So would you like a pair of guides?” Dawn asked, inhaling, showing a pair.

  “Really friendly guides who can show you—” Eve spied a deadly glance coming her way from her mother, and changed course before it reached her skirt. “The lay of the land?”

  “What would your boyfriends think of that?” Irene inquired musingly.

  The girls instantly sobered. “We’ll just tell you what to expect,” Dawn said.

  “Each triangular face of Pyramid is a different color,” Eve said. “When you cross from one to another, your orientation is still fixed by the first, so you can no longer stand up.”

  “You can get help to change,” Dawn said. “But whoever helps you gets bigger, and you get smaller.”

  “This is weird,” Dolph said.

  “But I’m sure we’ll ma
nage,” Bink said.

  “And if you happen to go on to Torus, that’s where doing a favor makes you love the one you do it for,” Dawn said.

  “So you have to exchange favors within the hour, to avoid love trouble,” Eve said. “If you want to.”

  “But what about time and geography?” Bink asked.

  “The rules are different for each world,” Dawn explained.

  “So is the terrain, and the people,” Eve said.

  Dor shook his head. “This may become more of an experience than we anticipated.”

  “We can provide you with a place to sleep, where your bodies will be safe,” Dor-66 said.

  “Will we need them, since we’re already dreaming?” Dor-55 asked.

  “Oh, I suppose not. But first we should check with King Ivy.”

  “How did Ivy come to be king, and not Grey or Dolph?” Bink asked.

  “The others were lost during the marginalization, so it fell to her,” Dor-66 said. “After that, it seemed easier just to leave it that way.”

  “Here she comes now,” Electra said.

  Indeed, a forty-year-old woman wearing a crown was approaching. She did look like an older version of Bink’s granddaughter.

  “King Ivy,” Dor-66 said. “These are three visitors from Xanth, who are here in a dream. Grandfather Bink, who has been severely youthened, Father Dor, eleven years younger than I am, and Son Dolph, similarly younger than our Dolph.”

  “I am pleased to meet you,” Ivy said gravely. “You all seem oddly familiar.”

  “So do you,” Dolph-24 said.

  “This will get in my way,” Ivy said, removing her crown and handing it to her father, Dor-66. Then she stepped into Dolph-24 and hugged him closely. “I love you, little brother.” After that she hugged Dor-55 similarly, and finally Bink. “You seem even younger, Grandpa,” she murmured in his ear.

  “I was just rejuvenated,” he said. “It still seems strange.”

  Ivy stepped back, took back her crown, donned it, and became suitably sober again. “You will want to go on to my sister Ida,” she said. “Please come this way.” She evidently had been briefed on their business.

  They followed her to the Tapestry chamber. There was Princess Ida, with her moon—and sure enough, it was the shape of a little pyramid, with four triangular faces.