A STRONG TOWER

PART SIX: WADING THROUGH

It was large for a posse. Very large. He had never really hated posses the way Charlie had. But, then, Charlie was dead. Charlie hated a lot of things, pinks, reds, pale blues. He especially hated bullets in his own torso. The thought of Charlie made him fish in his pocket for something, just making sure his 'get out of Hell free' card was still all right. Charlie had asked to borrow it back there in Contention, but since he was the one sending Charlie on his way, he hadn't felt much like sharing.

The moon was full, so he'd stopped behind a large mob of kangaroos for cover, not yet ready to be seen. Who WERE these people and why were they afoot out here in the middle of such vast nowhereness?  Wresting his holster from the paws of a playful joey, he suddenly wondered that very same thing about himself. Hadn't he just whistled for the black? Where WAS the damn horse! He strained his seagreen eyes hither and yon, looking in vain for some sign of an approaching horse.

What he failed fully to appreciate was just how long the lengthy night had actually been. The

sun had set on our intrepid cast (well, there were those faintly trepid amongst them, one must admit, especially the formerly Welsh) in 2006 and was only now arising one chapter later in 2008. Thusly it was that the dark figure in the night had become him and not some other thing.

*THWOK*

Something long and feathered thwoked into the sand not a half inch from the edge of his black soul, er, sole. He looked down at it, narrowing his eyes. Indians?

He was almost relieved. At least he was probably still in Arizona then.

"Hold, varlet!" A rather familiar voice said from behind him.

Slowly he turned his head, his eyes still narrowed as he was in epis now and would be doing a

lot of that. Kiowa? Apache? Whichever tribe he was from, the man behind him spoke amazingly good English. As his seagreens came to rest on the voice's owner, they widened considerably. The man was nearly transparent and the wombat battle going on immediately behind him could be clearly seen.  He licked his lips, calling on his years of murder and mayhem to help him remain calm.

"You ain't no Apache."  He stated this as fact, then cocked his head, studying the man from under the brim of his hat. "In fact, you ain't much of nothin'."

The man sighed, lowering his longbow. "It is true," he said wearily. "And I fear I may never be."

"Why you out here anyway, all pale and see-through like that?"

"Leaves," the other sighed sadly.

"Leaves?"

"Yes, leaves."

"How'n hell would leaves make you so...so...."

"They're the wrong color."  He adjusted his quiver.  "Well, that is not exactly true. They are

the right color now, but the right color will too soon become the wrong color and if the leaf

color is wrong, then I am stuck being," he sighed heavily again, "as you see."

"I ain't seein' very much of you, mister."

"'Tis all there is, I fear."  He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Though this longbow and my sword seem awfully real, awfully heavy."

It was only then Ben noticed the man was besworded. His hand flew to the handle of his gun. "I'd be keepin' that thing in its sheath if I was you, mister," he growled. It was bad enough the enormous posse was so close by. Now he had to deal with a strangely-armed non-Apache who didn't seem all that solid somehow.

Meanwhile, back at the campsite, the posse, er, cast was gathering their meager belongings and getting ready to continue toward the Bight. Himself was grumbling to, well, Himself, wondering what the heck they were supposed to DO when they got to the sheer cliffs by the ocean. That, however, was not his problem, not really, though the same thought was currently weighing very heavily on someone dressed in pale yellow.

Aubrey, peering into the blackness through his ubiquitous telescope, stopped beside Maximus. "Mightily strange-looking couple of roos out there," he commented because it was necessary

to get the storyline going.

Both the General and Joimus' heads turned in the direction the Captain's scope was pointed. "Oh, MY!" Joimus gasped, her hand going to her mouth.

"What now?" Himself asked, girding his loins as well as he could since he only had faded denim over them, and as is clearly understood in most areas of the world, even Australia, denim doesn't gird all that well.

"We've expanded," Joimus replied, her lips curving in a slight smile.

Himself looked at his waistline. In the two-year night, it had, indeed, expanded somewhat. "Not that!" Joimus chuckled.

"What then?" he asked, irritated because it was the first he'd noticed how tight his belt had gotten. Sometimes it was very hard being the single member of the giant cast who not only aged, but whose weight could fluctuate.

"Out there, more of you."

"More?"  He wiped his hand roughly across his eyes. "How...many...more?"

"Two...I think."

When he let out a relieved breath, Joimus eyed him sharply. "It's all your own doing, I hope you know! Without you, they wouldn't be there, couldn't be there."

"I'm here!" Max Skinner chirped up brightly.

"Well," Joimus admitted, "there is that."

Himself frowned at Skinner. "You're still not possible."

Skinner ignored Himself and just gave a brief jerk of his chin out toward the mob. "New guys out with the 'roos?"

"Two," Joimus replied.

"Only two?" Skinner's eyes widened. He was already getting used to epilife and knew such behavior was expected.

"Aren't there more?" Joimus asked Himself. "You haven't been simply fallow ALL this time... have you?"

"Richie," he mumbled almost inaudibly.

"What say?" Skinner leaned toward Himself.

"Richie!" Himself repeated loudly.

"And...?" Skinner pressed.

Himself sighed. "Some guy with no first name and a long, Italian last name. But from what I hear he's not going to be around until he gets a first name other than Lieutenant."

Joimus innocently cleared her throat and Himself glared at her.

"That all?"

"Isn't that enough?" Himself almost roared.

"That all?" Skinner wouldn't let it go.

"No," Himself sighed, looking back at the gathering mass of humanity that trailed him these days. "Two more than that."

"My, you HAVE been a busy little bee," Skinner laughed.

Joimus lay a soothing hand on Maximus' arm at the mention of busy little bees. He'd not been particularly fond of them ever since they'd caused him to be beaten and strung up beneath the great arena.

Composure restored, the General tipped his head toward Joimus. "Who are the ones out there with the 'roos?" (Lest you are new to epidom and have been so unfortunate as not to have read the entire canon and might, therefore, be wondering how our General knows what a kangaroo is, a moment will be taken here to mention that waaaay back in A More General Storyline, there was some untoward interaction between Sid and some roos right there on Droogheeda. This was when the monk chip had been stealthily slipped into his circuitry and he had gone out to bless the mob. But I digress.)

"Well," she said, intently studying the dark outlines of the two in the distance. "From the size and shape of the hat on the one, it's very likely he might be...."

"I'll tell you who he is!" Himself bellowed. "He's...."

"Wade, Ben Wade," came a soft, deep voice quite suddenly close at hand.

"You got a license to kill, Wade, Ben Wade?" Skinner, who seemed in a jovial mood, inquired.

"Don't need no license," Ben growled, the tips of his middle fingers lightly stroking down his holster.  He was eyeing the smaller grouping warily. "You a posse?"

Skinner suppressed a grin and indicated the General with a tip of his head. "You ever seen a posse with a guy decked out like him?"

Ben studied Maximus. "I seen me some Injuns with wolf fur like his before."

"And a sword?" Skinner added, pointing to the gladius.

Ben narrowed his eyes. "Got me a feller just back out there by them big rabbits got hisself a bigger sword than that."

Himself narrowed his eyes more than Ben's. He'd been in epis longer and was more expert at it. The little bit of green that remained to be seen glittered in the moonlight at Joimus.  "You...didn't?"

"I did nothing," she protested, taking a long fold of the glorious rust-colored cape and pulling it around her as she tucked herself in Maximus' armpit.

"Robert?"  His voice was low, utterly menacing.

"You've made a Bob?" Skinner laughed.

Himself whirled on him. "I've done no such thing!!"

"But there's a Bob with the mob?" Skinner pursued.

"ROBERT, dammit! Robert!!"

"I didn't know there was a Bob," Skinner continued. "When did you make a Bob?"

"I did NOT make a Bob!"

"Then how do you explain why the mob has a Bob in it?"

Himself's shoulders slumped. "I...can't." 

Joimus peeped out from her secure armpitted location. "I think he may be sort of like Teller, Max."

"Teller?"

"You weren't around yet, Max, but Teller was Himself's character in Eucalyptus."

"But...but I was given to understand Eucalyptus was never made."

Himself spoke up again. "It wasn't. It's...it's...a complicated story." His eyes went to the General, who had been chained in a shed during the attempt to film it.

Joimus shuddered so violently in Maximus' armpit at the memory that his mole there shifted a good half inch to the left. She'd have to find the tweezers later and move it back.

Aubrey, too, who had been silent because someone forgot he was in the group, glowered as he recalled how he'd had to find Himself and tell him about the deaths of three castmembers. For

a film that had never gotten made, it surely was a dramatic time to have been in epis.

"What...what...happened to...to...Teller?"  They had been joined by the longbowed, sworded second person.

Himself lifted his chin up towards the night sky. "He...faded. So much so that he couldn't continue on with us."

"Where...where...is he...now?" the English-accented voice asked hesitantly.

Lowering his chin, Himself looked with compassion on the other. "Nana Glen," he explained, managing to curve his lips into some slight semblance of encouragement. "He's living with my parents. We had to leave him there."

"He loves Himself's Mum's muffins, though!" Joimus added brightly.

"It's not so bad," Himself continued, "really it's not."

"He...he's not gone...entirely?"

"He made it into several epi storylines," Joimus said, "so he gets to live on even though his movie was never made."

Sir Robert looked sadly at Himself. "It is the leaves, you know."

Himself patted Robert's arm affectionately.  "I know, Loxley, I know."

Ben cleared his throat loudly. "Ain't nobody here minds that this feller ain't quite solid?"

"There's still hope for him, Ben," Joimus replied. "Still hope."

Ben would have narrowed his eyes at her use of his name, but his lids were already tired. "You know me?"

Skinner chuckled again. "Wade, Ben Wade, look around, buddy!"

"You gonna call the bloke that all the time?" Himself fixed Max with a glare.

But Max's attention had been grabbed by the look on Ben's face. "Holy Mother of....," Ben breathed, starting to back up. He'd been so distracted by being able to see right through that Bob feller that he hadn't really taken the time to center in on the faces around him. He backed up some more. "This ain't natural," he mumbled. "Ain't natural at all."

"Right you are!" Sid, drawn by their voices, had come up and was standing just behind Aubrey. Now he stepped out, joining the groupling. "It's what I've said all along. There are way too many extraneous, inferior characters. Why don't you save us all the trouble and just shoot yourself now, Mister Wade?" 

"And just who'n hell might you be?" Ben asked, his gun halfway drawn.

"Go on, Himself, tell him." Not giving Himself a chance to speak, he continued, "I'm the best

of them all...us all," he corrected. He stared at Himself. "But Himself, here, he never gets my message that I'm all that's needed. He just keeps on keeping on churning out more and more

and more." He smiled rather wickedly at Himself. "You know, you keep this up, you're going

to force me...one day you're going to force me...to eliminate the possibility."

"That will do, Sid," Maximus growled.

"For you, maybe," Sid went on, "but, then, you've never been very discerning in your taste,

now have you?" He flipped Aubrey's left epaulet fringe. "Just look at the friends you've chosen."

"You have none," Maximus said levelly.

"True!" Sid smiled.  "When I was you I did."  He glanced briefly at the Captain, unwillingly remembering Aubrey's clear, pure friendship when he thought Sid was Maximus. "But friendship is highly overrated. Now, paternity, that's a different thing." He smiled widely, too widely. "Don't you think?"

Maximus took a step toward Sid, his hand on the pommel of his short sword. "No, Maximus!" Joimus breathed, having been carried along with him under his cape. "Not now. Not...yet."

"Not yet?" Sid repeated. "Why, Joimus. Do you thirst for my blood, too?"

"You have no blood, Sid," she spat.

"I did once," he smiled again. "You remember...there in bed...in the caravan?"

Maximus roared, lunging toward Sid, who laughed and backed away behind Himself.  "Now, now, big boy! Dismemberment is frowned upon in epis."

But Maximus remembered cutting his own foot off to escape his chains when he'd been trapped inside Sid's form. He was perfectly willing to sever a nanotech's head.

"Maximus, stop," Himself said in that over-used way people had in asking the General to cease his movements. Aubrey, too, had put his hand on Maximus' arm, shaking his head 'no'.

"Friendly group you got here," Ben commented. He still wasn't satisfied as to the how's of things, though. "You do all this?" he asked, looking at Himself and indicating the surrounding men.

Himself closed his eyes a moment then returned Ben's intent gaze. "I did."

"Why? Why'd you want to go and do a thing like this?"

"Because...," Himself began.

"Because he could!" Sid exploded. "And now he doesn't know when to stop!"  He glared at Himself, there being almost as much glaring and growling in epis as narrowings and widenings of eyes. "After me, you didn't need to make any more. You couldn't get any better, any more perfect than me. But you, you're too damn dense to know it."

"Are...are...you going to make me, Himself?"  Robert asked quietly.

"Not if I have to chop down every damn tree in England, he's not!" growled Sid.

"But...."

"They're looking forward to you, damn you! Them! All of them! They want you. But they're

not going to get you. They've got me! I'm all they need."

"I'd like to make you, Robert," Himself said, ignoring Sid. "Sometimes...sometimes my sword hand just feels...empty."  He smiled at Maximus. "And then there's Ridley, you know. So...I'll try. That's all I can say right now, Robert, I'll try."

"Yeah, like you tried for Teller," Sid snarled. He looked at Robert. "Hope you like muffins."

"I'd like a muffin," Ben said. "I ain't eaten since...well...since I can't remember."

"Well, YOU aren't going to end up on the farm permanently," Robert huffed. "You're already solid."

"Ain't my fault and I'm still damn hungry."

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