FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

subsection{Unnamed Desert}

Something tugged on his arm. \ For a while everything was peaceful then. Or not really. \ There were those dreams he had.\ Had had?\ Was having?\ He was falling!\

Screams were there.\ Not his own, although he tried to.\ Only a faint croacking came from his throat.\ A jolt, and then nothing for a while.\

The ground was shaking. But somebody held him.\ The bombs were falling again!\ He tried to move, to get out of his bed, to get to the air-raid shelter in the adjacent building.\ But he couldn't! \ Somebody was holding him, holding him back!\ A strong jerk, like falling in two direction at once.\ He felt like exploding from the inside.\ But whoever held him, held him safely.\ Although the jolt knocked him out again. \

He came back to himself. Intense heat, crackling noises that turned into a thundering roar worse than that of a passing train. Somebody still held him, and he was hanging head down now. He jerked, opened his eyes, tried to see who or what was holding him. He had seen the family from the building on the opposite side of the street. After their house had collapsed above them. They had refused to enter the shelter. \ Said that it was all in gods hands anyway.\ Belts held him. In some sort of hammock.\ Without anythign visible happening, upside became downside, then right, then downside again. \ The thunderous roar extinguished his own croaking.\

His movements were sluggish and he felt weird. \ There were belts holding him safely inside some kind of hammock. \ There was a strong jerk trying to throw him off the hammock, but the belts held him safely inside it.\ His mind raced.\ This wasn't the air-raid shelter.\ This wasn't their home.\ This wasn't the farm he had been brought to by his mother, either.\ Again a strong shaking, the scent of overheated metal and angry shouts of several men nearby.\ The thunderous roar had subsided.\

He wanted to reach for the release of the belts holding him in the hammock.\ But then the ceiling above him - another hammock? - jumped into his face when up became down again and blissfull darkness embraced him again.\

Somebody shook him.\ "No mother, I don't want to get up, it's still dark outside.."\ But it wasn't his mother shaking him. He was still in a only dimly lit space, in a hammock, secured to it. Another hammock above him, The entire place was.. skewed.\ He was hanging sidewards and the noise of a storm plus a wild shaking of the entire room had wakened him.\ Again.\ The voices of two men were shouting in a frenzy nearby.\ He looked around, moving his head. He found his head was being held in place by a cushion, but he could move his head a bit as the material was soft. The place was only dimly lit, and he remembered that the first time he had awoken there were many green lights, and a few angry red lights glowing. Now the room looked like if it was on fire, with red and yellow small lights being the majority, most of them flickering like trying to attract attention. To his left was a wall - a left which was becoming "down" swiftly whilst the voices of the men nearby went from shouting to an even more scary clipped mumbling, barely audible over the increasing scream of the wind... outside. Deciding that, as he was outstretched, he was laying prone on his back and the room around him was moving, he decided to call the hammock above him "up" and the nearby wall to his left "left". It was a satisfying feeling to have come to a practical conclusion. On this wall, behind a mesh that looked like the hammock above - and by feel, also his own hammock was made from - he made out the faint contours of his small travelling case with his clothes, and of his treasurechest. Again he wanted to reach for the buckle of the straps holding him - he had seen it at his belly - and the design of those buckles he knew. He had seen them somewhere...\

Then another jolt came, the right side became an exaggerated "down" and then the world went painfully black.\

There was a workan in his head with a hydraulic jackhammer, he was sure of that.\ He had seen one of those tools in use when they had breached a hole through a wall in a house near the school to install a bombproof shelter. For an AA batteries ammunition.\ Three days later the allied bombers had simply carpeted the entire neighbourhood, taking out the Flak-Battery.\ And the school.\ And the pharmacy.\ Basically, the entire neighbourhood had been a pile of rubble afterward.\ Screams!\ Dazed he realized that he had heard screams and ferals growls for the last minute.\ And shots.\ And there came three in rapid succession, ending in an inhuman scream and earthshattering roars. He wanted to pee himself, but he felt dry like if he didn't had something to drink the whole day. Dazed he realized that he was a very ,very scared boy, but that he couldn't even cry. "Maybe I cried enough when I helped bury our neighbours."\ The screams subsided, the growling and roaring, too.\ The noises of something breaking and... WET... sent feral cold shivers down his spine.\ Frantically he reached for the belt-buckle securing him to the by now unmoving hammock. Falling out of the hammock once he had the belt open he rolled on the floor with a lot of noises before his still numb limbs started to react to his desires. He was in an almost round room. Shaped like a lentil, but large. There were 40 hammocks and in each was a slowly stirring form. Children. Other Children. The other children.. Where had he seen them? He knew them!\

The floor and the roof were cracked, black goo dribbling down from the cracks, faint traces of light marking the cracks. There was an opening in the only part of the wall that wasn't outward-curved. Fro mthere more light came. Metal girders segmented the whole room and he rammed his head against one when he jumbled back to his hammock, to look at his treasurechest. From the opening warm yellow light flooded into the room. He was glad for it. There was a motion in the light and he looked over his shoulder. a large muscular arm silhuetted agaisnt a blue sky he could see throug hthe opening reached for soemthing he could not. \ A sickening crunch, and the hand on the arm which now moved back again - held another arm. That arm however, was visible in it's entirety, and there was no body on it, only a trailing... mass of muscles and... He screamed.\ A low guttural grown was heard and he felt a presence moving on the other side of the opening. More growls from further away were audible, like a conversation between idling lorry engines. A faint tinkling filled the air, like metal moving, polished metal moving over other polished metal. His heart raced.\ He could feel the ... presence moving, like a lion prancing in the zoo, unsure if to go away or come closer.\ He was frozen.\ The presence left. He couldn't actually hear the footsteps, but metal moaned as a heavy weight moved over it. Moved away, and with the maoning stopping abruptly, moved... Out? Out to where? With shivering fingers he reached for his treasurechest and pulled it from the mesh. It was intact, and he inhaled deeply.\ And inhaled the scent of something burning. That wasn't good. \ Like he had learned he grabbed his travelling case and turned to the opening to get out...

Outside a tumultuous uproar exploded. \ Loud growls, enraged snarls, then high pitched yips. \ Pinschers and lions fighting.\ He hesitated, looking through the opening. The lentil shape proceeded allright, three sturdy seats in front of a vast set of controls, a small segmented window, cracked, but still intact, a thick door with a short corridor to a second door, both open...\ In one of the chairs sat a man. Well, most parts of a man.\ His head was... not longer able to fulfil it's job. \ A part of it was missing, but metal parts from the window-frame held the head erect. Tears rolled down his cheeks and he wanted to vomit, seeing the rest of the head smeared over the wall. The tumult outside raged louder, light reflected from somewhere along the short corridor. Shadows were moving like flickers of lightning. He looked on the floor, fighting his stomach.\ The arm that ... the presence ... had ripped off the corpse lay there, it's indexfinger pointing back into the room he had come from. Outside the metallic tinkling had become the dominating noise, drowning out the growls, snarls, yips and barks. Then a short whinny, like a horse in pain, and a multiple-times repeated "twang!". Three metallic darts, each as long as his arm, stencilled holes into the metallic wall beside the door. And that was only the part he could see. \ And all of them dripped thick, dark red blood.\ The snarls and growls died into gargling noises, the yips became all the more louder. Thick smoke was drifting past the window, and some of it also drifted in through the door.\

Clasping his treasurechest to his body he stumbled back into the room, gazing at the three metal darts dripping blood and at the hand of the ripped-off arm in the uniform that also his father had worn. The hand pointing back into the room he had awoken.\ The metallic tinkling from outside turned into well audible, heavy steps. He remembered those times military had marched through the town, and he, his sister and his mother had stood there cheering the soldiers, yet also worried for his father who worked in some super secret program. The steps had the same self-assured quality.\

Outside yipping and whinnying could be heard. Frantically he looked around in the room. Some of the metallic spars that seemed to give the room it's lentil, ovoid shape were broken and bent. There were cracks in the floor. From some a nauseating scent came when he tried to lift the broken metal tiles up. From one no scent came, and the shadows he could seeshowed the space to be large enough. Inside the space under the floortiles he could see cables and other things. He slipped into the space and pushed the tile around until it slid back into place. There were ripped-off rivets visible which he grasped and held on to.\ "Please," he thought, "nobody look at the floor."\ A breath after he had slipped into the cavity between what looked like fueltanks, gas-cylinders and more wiring than he had seen in a Volksempfaenger, he heard the pitterpatter of ...\ Dog-Paws?\ Yes, it sounded like dogpaws, but the rythm was off and it was too fast. \ High yipping, small high-pitched barks, sniffling and shuffling above.\ Another series of short whinnies and coughs outside, then one pitterpattering left the space above, but others still moved around. Then more yipping outside, short coughs, near-snarls and whinnies, then the pitterpatter of many dogs entered the room.\ And then...\ Heavy thuds that made the floor vibrate.\ A deep huffing, steps that made the metal resonate. Directly above him.\ The metal, aluminium, started to bend downward, despite it being reinforced with a girder-structure underneath that must've been good enough for a grown up to jump around upon it.\ From somewhere, the acrid smell of chemicals burning wafted to him.\ Above more coughing and whinnying, complemented by a chorus high pitched yipps and of deep rolling coughs. Whatever happened next, a the entire metal around him vibrated and resonated. He couldn't hear his own thoughts, but a flurry of activity was taking place above him.

His finger ached from holding the broken rivets tight so that the metal tile wouldn't jump up and give away his hideout. Feet left and came, the rythm sounding very well coordinated. Then more feet left than came back in until only the sighing of one of the nearby metal tiles spoke of somebody very heavy standing upon it.\ He held his breath.\ Soft barks and yipps, murmured, whispered. Two heavy steps, in his direction. The tile over what he assumed was a tank of some sorts bent down slightly. Then more barked and yipped whispers. From outside some sharp barks, then the heavy steps left the room. Seconds later, a light pitterpatter of clawed paws followed the heavy steps. Stopped. Moved on, becoming more silent, ceased to be.\

He held his breath. Outside a rustlign and tinkling was audible, became more and more silent. The scent of something burning was fading. In the silence falling over him in his hideout, he could hear the crackling of cooling metal.\ Minutes became hours, or maybe days.\ Perhaps a few eternities, give or take two.\

Finally he pushed the tile upward.\ The room was empty.\ Not only empty. \ Except for his floortile all the floortiles that had cracked open had been removed. All the struts that had beed ripped loose were gone. All the hammocks were gone. Including the children that had been in them. And the meshes on the wall where gone too. Including the luggage they had held. He looked around stunned. The rivets on his floortile were deformed. Tiles with intact rivets where still in place, but all other tiles were just gone. And whatever had been underneath them, too. No object that was identifiable as being something individual was left. The smelly tank was gone. Loose nuts dangled on the now dry pipes it had once connected to.\

He turned around.\ His Hammock was still in place. Likewise his mesh on the wall hadn't been touched. But an enameled bottle lay on his hammock. \ He was perplexed.\ Placing his luggage o nthe ground he grabbed the bottle. It was plugged with an enamel plug held in place by a metal clamp. Easy. Flip the clamp, and you can pull the stopper out. There were beerbottles with the same mechanism. Just they were out of glass and ceramics, not enameled metal. And the beerbottles where three times bigger. The bottle could barely hold a mouthful of water. Which, indeed, it actually did. Contaning a mouthful of water, with a light mint flavour. He closed the bottle, putting it into his short trousers pocket. It was getting hot in here. Not the heat of a fire, but of a locked shed in summer. He picked up his case and the metal treasurechest. He was thankful for the handle on it's top. In the room beyond the wall the corpse was gone, so was the arm. Sand had been dusted over the blood on wall and floor and soaked up the bloods wetness.\ No icky bits were visible anywhere.\ The three darts had gone, too, leaving three holes in the wall. The holes had closed with a black gooey substance. He went to the door. Outside was blinding brightness. Yellow-white sand and blue sky. His foot set down on the outer doors frame, when a shadow blotted out the light. \ A clawed hand shot out to grab him.\ But his hand holding the treasurechest shot out, too, in an arc.\ The chest contacted with the clawed hand and the doorframe.\ The crunching noise was loud and clear in the otherwise silent air.\ The loud, pained snarl ended the silence, until he brought the heavy chest around in a second arch, upward.\ That ended the pained snarl abruptly.\ Slowly, like a cut tree, the shadow fell over backward into the sand.\ And gave free sight at a group of at least two dozen other large looming shadows.\ Shadows with tiger ears, tiger muzzles, tiger tails and tiger paws, but wrapped into clothing like the pictures in Karl May's "Through the Desert" had shown to be worn by the Berber people.\ In the resulting explosion of snarls and grows, the fangs bared at him and the clubs risen over the heads in unmistakingly hostile manners, he discovered he was an astonishingly good runner.\ Turning away from the tiger-people, he looked at a town, maybe half an hour walk away. A large gate was closing behind a group of people leaving a dustcloud. The city was bright, colorful, and he could see lots of high trees over the citywalls. It looked much more inviting than the tigerpeople and their fangs and clubs behind him.\ He ran.\ Down the dune on which the metallic-shiny oversized lentil rested from which he had emerged, along a deep, charred trail that began shortly behind the cities wall - there where the battlements looked like stencilled away - and then lead up to where the lentil rested. The loud snarls and growls became louder behind him. He jumped and bounded in great leaps down the dune, holding firmly to his luggage and the chest. Before him, the sand exploded in a cloud of dust, taking his sight. He fell, landing in something soft which immideatly gave way under him, and then things went dark. But it wasn't the darkness of unconsciousness.\ It was just .. Dark.\ He heard light yips around him, then he felt somebody.. several... dogs stepping upon his back. He wanted to scream and get up when he heard, muffled, the snarls and growls above becomign louder, then he felt pokes on his back, like if the dogs on his back were fetching heavy loads, the heavy thuds of many feet running past above. \ The snarls became quiter.\ A small hand fuzzled his hair, then small hands with claws sought his hands and tried to help him up.\ A wet nose touched his ear:\ "yepyappapp rwuuf"\ It was whispered, and with a high pitch and a rapid rate. He had heard the same noises inside the... Lentil. Separated by a metal floortile. The small hands holding his hands - rather two of his fingers each - tugged him into a direction. Light to the right and ahead. There were several ... beings around him. He was still kneeling, so he wanted to stand up. Immideatly the hands holding his pulled him down again, tugged on him and when he didn't stopped, somebody gave him a clout. "Okay, I'll remain on all fours!" he cursed.\ "urrrrAPPAPP yipp!"\ Again a wet nose at his ear whispering those staccato noises. Instead of a second clout a small paw grabbed his lips painfully and pressed them together. "Yes, I'll be silent," he whispered into the darkness once his lips were released. Instead of another yapping, somebody patted his head gently, albeit also with a staccato-like speed. The tugging on his hands began anew, and slowly he crouched ahead. He stopped when he realized he had lost his luggage and chest. He pulled his hands free, resulting in at least two separate excited squeaks, barks and yips. He wanted to turn around to trace the five meters or so back that he had moved so far in utter darkness. His shoulders rammed into squirming bodies, and sand started to rush down from above. Sharp claws grabbed his ears, nose, wrists shoulders, ankles. He wanted to throw his unseen assailants off, but he couldn't move much - and each time he moved, more sand rushed down upon him. Things wrapped around his arms his legs, and even around his head. Smooth, cool, fluffy material suddenly pulled tight, binding his wrists together. The excited yips moved around him, and several times somebody gave him another clout when he tried to move. Often he felt warm soft fur running over his face, his arms and legs. He finally decided to lay still. His legs were almost fully under sand, and he slowly concluded that he was in a tunnel under the sand. Around him, movement. Sand flew around, then whoever was moving, moved, and he felt how swift hands removed the sand from his legs and around him. Finally something heavy bumped into his legs. The hard corners of his treasurechest.\ He inhaled deeply.\ "Yiiiirf yepyep"\ Fur pressed into his face and he could feel the warmth of the body it belonged to. Whoever had trained those pinschers... But pinschers wouldn't have the hands to untie whatever had bound his wrists and legs. Small hands rested lightly on his arms and guided them to the handles of his chest and of his travelling case. He sighed and gently, slowly, pulled them up to his chest. Around him several silent yipps and woofs sounded, then helpful little hands helped him back on his knees and then steadied his shoulders. "irrekkekk." A small hand grabbed some of his hair and then pulled him along. It was maybe undignified, but he had no idea where he was, and he had a very good idea what had been the intention of those tiger-people. So better to be cooperative. After a while a faint light showed up ahead.