There was once a little girl, who lived in a big
house with her father, mother and younger brother. And the
four of them were very happy together.
	But then, something terrible happened. The little
girl's father fell under a curse and became a wolf. Fearing
for her life, his wife fled. The little girl was left to
fend for herself and her brother, all alone against the
harsh world and the wolf that prowled through their home.
It would seem that she had lost everything.
	But she still had her dreams.


Nightmare Fighter Yumeko

Chapter 10: Casting

By Aaron Shattuck

Edited by Chippy the Transvestite Gnome


        Mjor ok mjok fagr
        mistilteinn

	The monster walked in darkness, its skin a gray
shadow against the black. Massive, claw studded forearms
propelled it along, as its twisted, underdeveloped pig-legs
struggled to keep the pace.  Saliva dripped from the gaps
between its jagged teeth, making small hissing noises as it
hit the unseen ground. Glassy white eyes rolled on either
side of its neckless, ball-peen head and the red slits of
its nostrils spread wide as it sniffed the air.
	There. Faintly, it could smell it. Slowly, the beast
turned to its left and began to advance. It shuffled
forward a few steps, then stopped. The scent no longer
pointed in any direction. It was everywhere. And there was
a sound, now, too. A tap tap tapping that echoed from all
sides. The monster circled in place, its eyes running over
every inch of nothing. Then the sound was gone. The scent
was gone. Something quick and sharp wrapped around its leg.
	The monster spun about just in time for the tight,
leather grip to pull upwards, sending it flopping on its
back. It lashed out with its claws and a searing pain began
to shoot up the length of its body. The thing roared and
writhed on the ground. Then there were hands. Unseen hands
that gripped its skin and tore it away. Bit by bit the
monster's flesh was ripped apart. Clear, syrupy fluid
spurting from the wounds. Its arms felt weak, unable to
fend off the cruel, warm digits eating it alive. Feebly, it
opened its jaws, only to feel one of the hands dive into
its gullet. The monster gave a final, hopeless gurgle, and
melting into the air like steam from a kettle, and all was
black once more.
Masaro woke up.
	A dream. It had been a dream. He rubbed his eyes and
glanced at the glowing green pixels of the clock. Three AM.
	He hadn't had a dream like that, since...
	Masaro peeled back the covers and swung his legs over
the side of the mattress. His throat felt dry. He paused
for a moment, then stood up.
	Masaro stuck his feet into the stiff, polyester folds
of his slippers and fumbled his way to the door. He opened
it and stepped out into the hall. The night air felt cool
against his naked thighs. He began to walk. He passed the
nightstand, with its lamp and the free bottle of cologne
he'd received in the mail, stopped at the head of the
stairs, and peered down. He couldn't quite make out the
shapes of the kitchen below, but he could hear the humming
of the refrigerator.
	You know what chases the nightmares away.
	Masaro shifted his gaze aside and continued to walk
down the hall. Then he stopped. There was a thin bar of
light under the bathroom door and the sound of running
water came from within. He turned around, and went back
into his room.

	Yumeko shut off the faucet and stared at her
reflection in the mirror. Faint purple crescents ridged the
bottom of her eyes. There was no expression on her face.
	Yumeko dried her hands on the stiff, polyester towel
and left the bathroom, shutting off the light behind her.
Back in her room, she sat down at her desk, and opened the
spiral bound notebook that lay at its center.
	"Walking in darkness," she wrote. "Can't see, but I
know something is there with me. I"
	Her pen hovered above the page. She flicked a glance
to the limp, green plant curled up in her pencil mug. Then
she capped the pen, closed the notebook, and went back to
bed.

	Bright light rebounded off arching columns and slabs,
illuminating all but the floor beneath them. Ahead, a
circular platform loomed above the ground, three stairways
leading to its apex.
	She was back.
	Seiko looked around. It was the same as before. She
could feel the wind begin to build, the walls to hum.
	She didn't want this.
	She was on the platform, and now she could see that
all was not the same, after all. Where once there were
chairs, now lay shallow piles of debris; on either side,
nine mounds each of fountain pens, hair-dryers,
wristwatches, model airplanes, rice-cookers, shoes, travel
books, plush toys, rulers, ice-scrapers and jagged little
plastic things she could not identify. And between them
all, was Seiji.
	He lay unmoving, his limbs splayed out awkwardly, his
eyes staring firmly into nothing. Wisps of wire trailed
from loops around his wrists and ankles, their ends half-
invisible against the gray floor.	"Sei... ko..."
	 His jaw worked up and down, but his lips didn't move
around the words.
	"Where are you, Seiko?"
	"O... Oniisan..."
	She reached out towards him, and felt a tugging at
her wrist.
	"Seiko, where are you?"
	"Oniisan, can't you see me?"
	Seiko tried to move towards him and failed. Her limbs
would not obey her.
	"Where are you, Seiko?"
	"ONIISAN!"
	She could feel them now, the thin strips of metal
around her skin. Seiko struggled forward, putting as much
weight as she could into her front. Her head and torso
broke free of the invisible barrier, but her arms were
yanked behind her back. She could feel the trickle of blood
down her hands and feet. Gradually, painfully, she managed
to cover half and centimeter of ground.
	"I want to tell, you, Seiko... I want to tell you
what's going to happen."
	Push, push, push. Then a snap, and she was pitched
forward. Her limbs would not obey her. She was falling
down.

CRACK!
	Yumeko parted the shell of the egg, allowing the yolk
to plop out into the pan. Looking into the glass over the
oven-timer, she could see her father's reflection, an
unmoving statue behind its newsprint fortress. The familiar
sense of hatred she felt was oddly comforting.
	But there was something missing from the routine.
Yumeko glanced up at the clock and cursed under her breath.
She shut off the fryer, left the kitchen and made her way
up the stairs.
	Shinichi lay in bed, his blanket covering him from
head to toe, a tortoise hiding within its orange shell.
Yumeko ripped the comforter off of him and flung it aside.
He blinked at the sudden invasion of light.
	"Oneesan?"
	"You're going to be late."
	"Oh..." Shinichi looked up at her and pouted. "I'm
sorry."
	Yumeko sighed, the anger melting from her face. "Come
on, if you hurry you'll still have time to eat."
	"Mm." Shinichi smiled. She smiled back at him, then
turned to leave the room.
	"Oneesan..."
	"Yes?"
	"You were gone a long time last night."

	When Miwako woke, Hiro was staring at her. He sat
hunched on a chair in the corner of the room, somehow
managing to look composed and precise despite the gargoyle
posture. As soon as he saw her move, he shot to his feet.
	"Hiro? What are you-?"
	"You should get ready. School will start soon."
	He walked to the window, opened it, and flew out.
Miwako looked after him for a moment, then shrugged, and
got out of bed.
	Outside, Hiro paced nervously, his eyes scanning up
and down the street. He heard the click of a door being
opened and jerked his head to see Miwako step out of her
house, her legs wobbly under the weight of heavy-duty rain
boots.
	"Sorry I took so long," she said. "I couldn't find
my-"
	"Yes, well, let's go then."
	Hiro stepped forward, but his eyes still went both
ways.

	Principal Masuda slid the pot out of the coffee maker
and poured the steaming black liquid into his porcelain
mug. Through the window, he could see the last of the
students trickling in through the gate far below. A girl.
Two boys. Another boy. And her. Kobayashi. Masuda sighed
and shook his head. That one was going to be the death of
him. Of course, there hadn't been any complaints about her
recently, but somehow, that just made him all the more
nervous.
	"What a waste." Masuda turned back to his desk and
sat down. He glanced dejectedly at the sickeningly tall
stack of papers in his in-box. Already, they seemed in
danger of spilling over and burying the brightly colored
Jomon style vase in a paper avalanche.
Vase?
	Funny, he thought. Where did that come from?

	Sakurobi Okoota's hand slammed down on the desk,
upsetting Captain Mogura's framed picture of his dog "Mr.
Wan-Wan" and sending his pencil rolling to the floor. The
police captain carefully returned the photo and pencil to
their rightful positions, and looked calmly into Okoota's
blood tinted face.
	"What kind of sick joke for an investigation is
this?"
	"Now, just hold on, sir."
	"'Hold on'? I've held on long enough! It's been days
already, where is my son?!"
	"I assure you that we're doing everything that we
can. All we can do is keep looking, and hopefully the boy
will turn up eventually. Although, I should probably warn
you..." Mogura leaned forward and arranged his eyebrows
into a sympathetic arch. "That the majority of missing
persons cases we get... Now, I'm not saying anything here,
but the _majority_, tend to involve people who, well, don't
really want to be found."
	If it were quiet, Okoota's voice would be a whisper.
	"What?"
	"Mr. Sakurobi, would you say that your son's home
life was a... happy one?"
	Okoota stared hard at the Captain. His fingers folded
in on themselves.
	"Excuse me, dear."
	Okoota stepped aside, and his wife, Seishi took his
place before the desk. Her clothing and hair were
impeccable, her face arranged in a smooth, gracious smile.
	She lay a hand on Mogura's own.
	"I'm sorry if we appear anxious, Captain. I'm afraid
we are both very upset. I hope you can understand that."
Mogura nodded.
	"It would be so very comforting if you could just
promise me something, Captain. If you could only promise me
that you will spare no effort in locating my son."
	"Yes, ma'am... of... course."
	"Thank you, Captain. We'll let you continue with your
work now." Seishi began to leave the office. "Come along,
dear."
	Okoota gave the Captain one final poison glare before
turning to follow his wife.
	Mogura looked down at the bright red nail marks on
the back of his hand. He loosened his tie and picked up the
phone.

	Ring.
	"Yes?.... Ah, hello, Captain.......... Yes, I can see
how they could become problematic............
Yes........... No......... I'll see what I can
do........... No....... Please continue as usual..........
Goodbye."
	Shigin put down the receiver and flipped open the
small legal pad that lay beside the phone. She quickly
scribbled a note, tore out the page, bent it in half, and
placed it within the folds of her robe. Then she walked to
the door at the end of the hall and opened it.
Inside, the room was large and empty, save for an old
woman, withered and bent, and the plastic white coffee
table on which she sat. Shigin made her way across the bare
concrete floor and the woman rose to bow.
	"Done already, Toku?"
	Toku smiled, revealing two rows of unmarred pink.
	"Not much to look through. Only one of them came back
last night." She gestured to the far end of the room, where
what had appeared to be a natural collection of shadows
snorted out a jet of damp air.
	"One..." Shigin's eyes narrowed. She had sent out
three. "Did you find anything of use?"
	"Hm? Ah, no, no. Nothing but non-sequitors and
repressed memories. Frankly, I'm amazed at how lucky we've
been so far. Not much kept in most people's dreams is even
worth looking at..."
	Shigin circled around the table, her thumb lightly
stroking her chin.
	"The spirit guide..."
	"Chie? Now _there's_ a real find for you. Almost as
good as that bra-"
	"Where is she?"
	"Exactly, you mean? I, ah, can't really say right at
the moment... she still has a leash on, mind you, but I
can't be expected to-"
	The look the younger woman gave her kept the rest of
Toku's words hiding in her throat.
	"Find her."
	"Yes... Shigin-sama."

	Ballir draumar

	Yumeko and Misako sat across from each other, idly
chewing on the remnants of their now empty lunch boxes.
Misako wiped a napkin across her lips and smiled.
	"It's supposed to be good," she said. "I still
haven't got a chance to see it, but I got it on tape. The
director's the same guy who did 'Cruel High School
Ikebana'."
	"Sounds interesting."
	"Yeah. I was thinking, maybe we could watch it
together. Like this afternoon or something, you know?"
	"I-"
	A plastic tray flew over Misako's head, spraying a
trail of processed food behind it. French fries rained down
on her hair and ketchup splattered against her cheeks. Both
girls froze.
	"Or for..."
	"Ah!" A boy got up from the ground a few feet away.
"I- I'm really sorry!"
	Misako started to pick the fried potatoes out of her
hair. "Forget about it."
	"Uh, here, let me-"
	"I said, "forget it"! Just watch your feet better
next time, huh? Jeez..."
	"Misako..."
	Yumeko stood. There was a slightly nervous tone in
her voice.
	"Hm?"
	"Sorry, but I have to go to the bathroom."
	"Okay, j-" But Yumeko was already weaving her way
through the maze of tables. "Hey!" Misako called. "This
afternoon, okay?"
	Yumeko looked back, nodded quickly, and ran off.

	"So, Hiro, how's the arm?"
	"....... Oh. Fine. Much better, thank you."
	"That's good."
	"........"
	"........"
	Thoughts of Keiji's messy demise ran through Takuya's
mind.
	"You really thinks so?" Keiji asked. His was craned
forward. It almost smacked into Miwako's when she nodded.
	"People are like that. They don't ask for help or
know that they want it, but deep down, you know?"
	"Yeah... I guess."
	Takuya sighed and resigned himself to his staring
contest with Hiro.

	"Kobayashi-kun?"
	Masaro looked up from the sales report to see the
wide, fine-lined face of Tanaka Kubi smiling genially at
him.
	"Yes?"
	Kubi pulled up a chair and sat by the right corner of
Masaro's desk. He put down his report.
	"It's odd, don't you think? We've been working
together for years but we don't really know each other very
well, do we?" Kubi glanced curiously at Masaro's report. He
had scribbled " u = -a +- sqrt(a^2 + r)" in the margin. "I
guess that's not so unusual nowadays, but I'm an old-
fashioned sort, myself, eh? We get off early today, so a
few of us are going to get together. Maybe you-"
	Masaro stood up.
	"Excuse me," he said. "But I have to go to the
bathroom."

	Hiro's gaze ran over the sky and down to the
buildings around him. She was nearby. He was sure of it,
now.
	"Hiro..."
	Wait, behind the bush- No, that was just a shopping
bag.
	"Hey, earth to Hiro."
	Maybe she wasn't here, after all. Maybe he was
worrying too much. Maybe that's what she wanted him to
think.
	"EARTH TO HIRO!"
	Hiro turned his head.
	"Yes, Dream Warrior?"
She was scowling at him.
	"You've been like this all day. I'm beginning to get
the feeling that there's something you aren't telling me
about."
	"I..."
	There, between the dry-cleaners and the noodle shop!
He saw it, a white feather drifting in the wind.
	"Please wait here, I will... return shortly."
	Miwako's shoulders sagged as she watched him break
away and dive into the alley. She was really starting to
regret taking this job.
	"Hello," a voice said behind her, soft and feminine.

	Yumeko walked down the street, the hateful sun
glaring mockingly on her shoulders.
	She should have waited for Misako.
	The thought brought the image back to her. Misako's
face, covered in red. Her eyes wide and disbelieving.
	But it wasn't real. And she'd had worse, anyway.
Hadn't she?
	Across the road, Yumeko heard the sound of wood
tapping against concrete. She looked over. Beside a no-
parking sign, a cat sat alone and unmoving.

	Masaro shut off the faucet and stared at his
reflection in the mirror. Faint purple crescents ridged the
bottom of his eyes. There was no expression on his face. He
could hear voices, muffled through the thin plaster walls.
	"I'll pay for everybody, just don't tell my wife,
okay?"
	"You hear about Mt. Nasu, Adatara, Azuma, and Bandai?
It looks like they're all gonna blow."
	"As long as you don't tell mine about those golf-
clubs, eh?"
	"You don't understand yet, but I think you will one
day soon."
"There's supposed to be some sort of major fault
shift or something. They say we might be getting some
earth-quakes, too."
	"Ha ha ha ha!"
	"Goddamn Namazu must be having muscles spasms, is
what I think..."
	"All this potential and you're just throwing it
away."
	"Hey, I need that!"
"And he fell right off the horse."
	"Some of us are still finishing up here, you know."
	"You need sleep, Father,"
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
	He didn't need them.
He was tired.
He wanted a drink.

	Miwako turned. Before her, stood a tall, foreign
looking woman in a long, elegant dress. The air smelled
sweet around her.
	"I'm sorry," the woman said, "but could you tell me
where the nearest post-office is?"
	"Oh, sure." Miwako smiled and pointed to her right.
"You just go down that way, make a left at the park
entrance... I'm sorry, I don't know the street, I'm new
here myself... but you can't miss it... Anyway, make a left
there, go forward a couple block then make a right and
you'll be there."
	"Thank you."
	Helen followed Miwako's directions until she was out
of sight, then stopped.
So, the girl was a Dream Warrior. That made two of
them now. One for light and one for dark. And if there were
a third...
Did those fools even realize what they were dealing
with?
	Inches away, a pay-phone rang.
	 Helen stepped into the booth and picked up the
receiver.
	"What is it?"
	"I'm sorry to bother you, Lady, but I'm afraid I must
request that you return."
	"I have important business here. What is it that you
think requires my personal attention?"
	"It's... your charges."
	"'Charges'?"
	"Yes... our... residents. They've begun waking up."
	"........ How many?"
	"All of them."
	"I'll be down there today."
	"Also..."
	"Yes?"
	"The bracelet is missing."

	Orl ek vard
	vard ofrolvi

	Yumeko lay on the bed, her arm pressed warmly against
her eyelids.
	She didn't need to think about it.
	She was tired.
	She wanted a drink.
	Yumeko got up and left the room. Downstairs, she
passed her father sitting on the couch. His arms were
spread over its backside. His head lolled forward, unseen.
	"Yumeko...," he said. "Where are you Yumeko?"
	She came to the front door and began to put on her
shoes.
	"Yumeko, where are you?"
	She opened the door.
	"Where are you Yumeko?"
	She walked outside.
	"I want to tell you-"
	Click.

	Ring ring.
	"Hello?"
	"Hey, Shinichi, this is Misako. Can I speak to your
sister, please?"
	"Uh, she isn't here right now."
	"Oh....... Is your father there?"
	"Yeah."
	"Aaaah. Okay then, I-"
	"But I think he's asleep, so you can't talk to him."
	"..... That's all right. Hey, let her know I called,
okay?"
	"Okay."
	Misako hung up the phone and bit back a curse.
	That Yumeko! First she ditches her at school, and now
this. It wasn't as if they had any definite plans or
anything, but still...
	Maybe something was wrong.
	Of course something was wrong! Something was wrong
for the past week or so at least.
	Maybe she should go over there.
	Why? It wasn't like she'd left Shinichi by himself
again. His father was there.
	Passed out drunk, most likely.
	Yumeko would come back soon.
	Maybe yes. Maybe no.
	Misako bit her lip and looked down at the tape in her
hand.

	"Mother!"
	No no no she didn't want to be here.
	"Where are you, mother?"
	They were here again. All of them. The one with the
mask, and the one that was like a cloud, and the one with
all the armor, and the one with great big arms, and, and...
	"It's cold, mother."
	"Mother, where are you?"
	She pressed her knees to her chest and squeezed them
tightly.
	"Where are you, mother?"
	"Can't see."
	"So cold!"
"Shigin-sama... Please help me."
	"Mother, we want to tell you what's going to happen."
	And they did.

	Takuya opened his eyes and he was in a world of mist.
The fine sheets of evaporated water swirled about him,
bathing his eyes in gloom. Then, gradually, a shadow began
to take shape. The shadow came forward, and revealed itself
as the figure of a person, draped head to toe in a great
gray cloak. The cloaked figure pointed and the mist
dispersed. He could see now that he was standing on a floor
of gnarled wood. Then he turned in the direction that the
figure pointed to, and he knew what the wood was. It was a
root.
	The tree was bigger than any he had ever seen. Its
exposed roots spread out in all directions, subway tunnels
carved out of wood. Its trunk stretched passed each end of
the horizon and the tip of its foliage disappeared into the
sky. Craning his neck, Takuya could just make out the
blurred shapes of things moving amongst its massive
branches. A bird... no, two. An eagle with a hawk standing
upon its head. On a lower branch, a rooster crowed
mournfully. And standing impossibly between them, four
stags munched calmly on overhanging leaves. A squirrel
scampered down the side of the trunk.
	He knew what this was. It was the Yggdrasil. The
World Tree. It was perfect, exactly like he had imagined
it. Not anything like the sorry excuses _they_ always came
up with. Those idiots couldn't get anything right.
	The cloaked figure began to move. It came to the edge
of the root, and clambered down the side. Takuya hesitated
a moment, then followed it.
	Below, they came to a gap between root and earth,
just wide enough for a man to slide through. The figure
lowered itself into the gap and Takuya followed suit. The
tunnel inside was damp and cold. It was tall enough for him
to stand at full height, but no more. It was dark, but he
could still make out the gray cloak, as drifted farther and
farther away.
	Eventually, Takuya lost track of how long he had been
following it. It seemed like days at least. He could tell
that he was moving down, and that was all. The air was even
damper now, and it smelled of rotting things.
	Faintly, at first, then stronger, he began to hear
sounds from beyond the dirt walls. Garbled, low-pitched
voices, shrieking and singing incoherent words.
	"Thadan koma meyjar... margs vitandi... thrjar, or theim
sal...  er und tholli stendr... Urd hetu eina,... adra
Verdandi... skaru a skidi,... Skuld ida thridju... thaer log
logdu... thaer lif kuru... alda bornum... orlog seggja."
	And still down they went. Takuya felt his chest heave
with the exertion of breathing. He could no longer hear the
voices. They went deeper and deeper. And finally, the
figure stopped. Once again, it pointed. Takuya skirted
around it and looked. There, beneath the pointed tip of the
root's end, lying in the wet earth was a plastic mop
bucket, half filled with dirty water.

	Ring.
	"Hello, Tokai Nuclear Power Station.... Yeah, well,
fuck you too!"
	Click.
	"Goddamn kids..."
	"Hey, I'm getting a low output reading between B
Sector and the outer power-lines..."
	"B Sector... Didn't whathisname clean that like an
hour ago?"
	"Yeah. Moron probably disconnected some of the wires.
I'll go down and take a look."
	"Get me a soda on your way back, huh?"
	"If I feel like it."
	"You fucking die!"
	"Heh heh."

	Toku stood on the coffee table, her arms shaking like
the death throes of a humming bird, her head gyrating as if
cut loose from her body. On either side, eighteen young men
and women arranged into two rows of nine chanted
rhythmically.
	"Thadan koma meyjar! Margs vitandi! thrjar, or theim
sal! Er und tholli stendr! Urd hetu eina! Adra Verdandi!
Skaru a skidi! Skuld ida thridju!"
	Her pupils soared to the tip of her eyelashes and in
less than a moment, she was lying horizontal on the table's
surface, her back raised in an arch, a fleshy rainbow.
	"thaer log logdu! thaer lif kuru! Alda bornum! Orlog
seggja! Orlog seggja! Orlog! Orlog! Orlog seggja! Orlog!
Orlog! Orlog seggja! Orlog! Orlog! Orlog seggja!"
	The scream was thin and clear and unnaturally young
from her withered lips. Toku doubled over and fell to the
floor. Immediately, the chorus ended their song and rushed
to her side. Their voices were a panicked murmur as they
took her gently in their hands.
	"M-m-..." There was a thin line of blood running from
her mouth. Her eyes were fat with fear. "Mio..."
She fell still and spoke no more.

	"It's funny... usually, when I don't write 'em down,
I forget about 'em, y'know? Hey, don't you think that's
funny, Tsugi?"
	"No, not really."
	"No.... I guess it's not."
	Yumeko's gaze drifted from her empty glass to the
neon clock that hung above the bar. Shit, it was late.
	"Yumeko."
	She swiveled her stool around and squinted at the
face that greeted her.
	"Keiji? What are you-?"
	"Let's go, Yumeko."
	 Keiji's arms were straight at his sides, his face
rigid and impassive. She frowned.
	"I'm not finished here, yet."
	"Please." His feature's cracked, and a trace of worry
tinting his voice. "Please, come with me, Yumeko."
	"Leave me, alone, Keiji." She repositioned herself
behind the bar. "I've been having a rotten week."
	"You think getting blind drunk is going to solve
anything?!"
	Yumeko. Turned. Back. Very. Slowly.
Keji was trembling slightly, his eyes wide at the
shock of his own outburst.
	"I... I'm sorry, I just... Yumeko, why can't you..."
	"Keiji."
	"I..."
	"Leave."
	The lights went out.

	A flashlight beam cut across the dark, revealing in
brief patches, a floor littered with thin rubber tubes,
their ends frayed with tiny metal follicles and a wall
covered in deep, straight gouges and sparking round wounds.
	"What the fuck...?
	The bar of light darted across the room, and fell
upon a face, white and damp. Slowly, it drifted downwards,
to the welt-covered hands; the dented fire-axe held tightly
in their grip.
	"Jesus... Hebi..."
	"What the hell did he do?!"
	"Hey, man... uh... just put that down, okay?"
	There was the sound of something heavy clattering
against the floor.
	"I don't believe it... the fucker took this place
apart!"
	Shinpai knelt down beside his coworker and carefully
dragged the axe behind him. The man's teeth showed up to
his gums, his breathing was sharp and shallow.
	"Are you okay, Hebi?"
	"They were... everywhere."
	"How much you wanna bet this is coming out of our
paychecks?"
	"What?"
	"Hundreds of them... and one big one. Very big. They
were... eating them. The wires, everything... Chewing..."
	"I guess we'll need to replace it all... reroute
through the E Sector in the meantime... should probably
call the cops on fuckwad, first, though... Hey, are you
listening?"
	"Hundreds of what, Hebi?"
	Hebi looked up, seeming to see Shinpai at last. He
had the face of a child slapped for the first time.
	"Snakes," he whispered. "Snakes."

	Yumeko walked through the blackened streets, the echo
of her tapping feet resounding all around her. Her hand ran
across the surfaces of the shops and apartments by her
side, the rough texture of their bricks rubbing her palm
raw. Overhead, clouds covered the sky, but there were just
enough stars half-peaking through the film for her to make
out the dim shapes of what lay directly in front of her.
	When she finally reached her house, Yumeko tripped
over the porch and grabbed the doorknob to break her fall.
She stood up, searched for the keyhole, found it, and
unlocked the door.
	Inside, the minor starlight did not penetrate. She
was in a complete darkness now. An unmeasured void. Yumeko
walked carefully, her hands fumbling about for a landmark.
She sighed in relief when the shape of a banister spoke
pressed into her shoulder. Yumeko ascended the stairway.
	Tap tap tap tap tap.
	She froze at the top. There. Faintly, she could sense
it. She was not alone in the hallway. Coming behind her,
yes, she was sure of it now.... She could hear the heavy
plodding of his feet. The stench of alcohol permeated the
air.
	Closer closer.
	Yumeko slid quietly to the side and groped wildly
for... what? Anything. Her hand hit something cool and
smooth and hard. She wrapped her fingers around it.
	Closer closer.
	He was behind her now, his breath hot on her back,
his hands raised above his head in balled fists. He was
smiling.
	Closer
	She whirled around and threw.
	"Stay away from me!"
	CRASH!
	The light came on.
	Far ahead, cologne oozed in fat, lazy droplets down
the side the wall. Glass shards glittered like bright
jewels amongst the thick carpet yarn. And before that,
there was nothing, save for a small, orange blanket that
lay lonely on the ground.


***

Author's Note:

	Gah, I really gotta do something about this whole
"can only write at night" thing. It ain't really meshing
well with society's need to keep me awake in the morning,
ya know? Well, anyway, I hope my sleep-deprived method of
writing wasn't too incoherent. Needless to say, I'm hardly
one to judge that right at the moment.
	I was really just using that Icelandic funny-talk as
an atmospheric effect, mostly, but in case you're curious,
here are the translations.

Thadan koma meyjar      From there come maidens
margs vitandi,          deep in knowledge,
thrjar, or theim sal    three, from the lake
er und tholli stendr.   that lies under the tree.
Urd hetu eina,          Urdr they call one ('Had to be'),
adra Verdandi;          the second Verdandi ('Coming to be');
skaru a skidi;          they incised the slip of wood;
Skuld ida thridju.      Skuld the third ('Has to be').
thaer log logdu ,       They laid down laws,
thaer lif kuru          they chose out lives
alda bornum             for mankind's children
orlog seggja.           men's destinies.


mjor ok mjok fagr       Slender and very fair
mistilteinn.            the mistletoe


ballir draumar          sinister dreams


orl ek vard             I got drunk
vard ofrolvi            really drunk


	You may be wondering just what kind of power plant
Tokai Nuclear Power Station is supposed to be, anyway.
Well, I'll tell you. It's a magical power plant that
requires absolutely no research on my part. Let's all have
a hand for this miracle of modern science!
	I can't think of anything else to say. If I stop now,
maybe I'll be able to go to sleep soon... So, I will bid
you all adieu. As Alan Vega would say, "Keep those dreams
burnin' baby!"
	Then he'd hit himself with the microphone. Hit
himself good.


Token E-mail
	dilandau2@hotmail.com

Token Webpage
	www.crosswinds.net/~floot/


Beware the Radish
http://www.mit.edu/~johne/btr/
2/20/01