Robe

Chapter 33

It rained mud, it rained soil and stones and trees. It also rained other... bits that Rusty didn't want to think too hard about, bits that were all red, squishy, and organic. A large rock walloped him on the head, but not only didn't he see it, he neither felt nor noticed it shatter on impact. The horizontally-exploding laser-beam tornado had gone off like a fuel-air bomb (Rusty had seen footage of these on YouTube), the ground rippling in the shockwave. He caught sight of the old hippy coming down a short distance away – actually, the dude was the first thing to hit the ground before everything else. So Rusty braced, hands on ears, expecting death, but death did not come. Not for him, anyhow. For everyone-slash­-everything else... yeah, looked like the ol' Grim Reaper would've needed a backhoe to deal with the mess.

The debris-filled rain ceased after a short while, and Rusty got up from his crouch. The dust cloud – this one from the massive explosion, not from whatever magic spell was being used to shroud the Hep – was thick and cloying. Despite this, Rusty could see the Custodian lying nearby, covered in dirt, and he called out to the man: "Old dude! You okay?! What the heck was that big kerboom?!"

The Custodian didn't stir, and Rusty guessed the man was probably dead. Had to be, considering the circumstances. He crept over to the still figure, mindful of stepping on anything too... blobby. "Old dude? Oi. You... you dead, mate?"

The Custodian raised an arm, and Rusty screamed: "Aaaargh!" He hastily cleared his throat, hoping like heck no-one had seen him, and recomposed himself. "Er, mate, you right?" No response. He bent down. "C'mon, grab my hand. If you can, that is."

The Custodian raised his head. "Outsider..." he said. "Help me up. I have done a great wrong."

"Not dead, hey? Bloody heck, mate! You came down like a meteor!" (A large meteor, he wanted to say, but figured it wasn't very polite).

"Help me up, outsider. Please. There is no time."

"I'm gonna grab your hand, but just, like, yell or something if your arm falls off, yeah?"

Rusty grabbed the Custodian's outstretched hand, and now it was the Custodian's turn to scream. Rusty dropped the hand hastily. "Alright, alright, was only joking about your arm falling off. Here, let me roll you over a little, get under you proper."

"What are you saying to me, outsider?"

Rusty put one hand on the Custodian's shoulder and gently nudged the man. "Roll over a little, if you can. And where'd your Christmas-tree threads go, anyhow?"

"I don't understand you. Get me up while there's still time!"

"I have literally no idea what you're saying." Rusty wrapped one arm around the Custodian's back and ducked under the man's outstretched hand. "Here goes."

Rusty picked the Custodian up with such ease he almost threw the man into the air. "Holy crap! You're, like, not fat!"

The Custodian, meanwhile, cried out. The pain he felt as the superhuman outsider hauled him off the ground – his spine cracking all the way up and one leg dangling uselessly – was immense, excruciating. "By the Highest! By the Highest!" He gritted his teeth.

"Well, you are fat," Rusty was saying, entirely to himself, "but... you like, weigh, like, nothing, mate! How the heck's that possible?"