…Hey, Moe, a big lizard!
The Doclopedia #3,026
366 Days, 366 Paragraphs: #265
Chapter Thirty Nine: The Truth Will Out
The quadcycles stopped for the night just off the western end of the Denva to Mispy River section of raised Road. Due to the prevalence of predators on the plains and near the many lakes and marshes formed by the annual river floods, this raised Road ran east/west and sat high over the Great Plains. There were no Towns along this Road, but there were always trade caravans one could buy food from. Of course, Mother Road supplied water and safe places to sleep.
Towns were few along the distant East River Road, again, due to the proximity of both the plains predators and things like rivergators and giant snapping turtles. None of this stopped trade, but it did make sure that travelers along the river were well armed and moving quickly.
At this point, they could have continued east across to the river or headed north towards the Grand Route that passed through Blue Tree. The problem was that continuing north meant a more meandering route and would add at least two days to the trip. This was unacceptable to Porcero, so the raised Road it would be.
Exhausted by his stressful day, Porcero had told them to continue through Roadmeet, the walled town at the intersection, and rest until first light, which was 7 hours away. All of them were exhausted.
Once camp was set up, everyone ate in strict silence. Porcero asked for a bottle of wine and a mug, which Zao brought him. He drank the entire bottle, then fell asleep.
As worn out as they were, the cyclists did not fall asleep immediately. Instead, they spoke in whispers about what to do. Zao told how she thought Porcero had gone mad and that it was almost certainly from a failed rebellion and possibly the loss of the relic. His rants about Museum agents taking what was his lent credence to this. The others agreed with her, but said they must be sure of the facts before taking any action.
“I thought of that,” Zao told them, “So I put a sedative from the first aid kit into Master Porcero’s mug. Along with a full bottle of wine, it will insure that he does not wake up until tomorrow. Now, we will find out the truth of the situation.”
She walked over to where Porcero snored loudly and took the comslate from his hand. Walking back to the group, she sent a message to the GHC.
“We are the quadcyclists accompanying High Curator Porcero. He has gone mad and we wish to know the truth about what is going on before we decide what to do. We put our futures at your mercy, GHC, but please tell us the truth.”
The ten minutes that they waited for the reply passed slowly. Several times, Porcero cried out, which made them all jump. Small groups seldom camped along this stretch of Road, for fear of predators. It was nerve wracking enough hearing wolves howl and lions roar in the distance without Porcero making noise.
When the answer came, they all read it, passing the comslate around. The message said, “Rebellion was stopped before it began. Our best agents very close to having the relic. Loyalist Seekers heading out from all points to deal with their traitorous brethren. If you return, you will be stripped of rank and have a long time rebuilding our trust, but you will be allowed to work and live here. Master Ohlong insists you bring quadcycles back. As for Porcero, do with him what you will, but leave him nothing except the clothes on his back.”
They looked at each other for a long time before Curator Fradrek spoke up with, “I have an idea.”
The sun had been up for hours and was hot on Porcero’s face when he woke up. Had those cursed Curators extended the rest beyond dawn? Or perhaps they had just placed him in his chair and gotten back on the Road without waking him. That was more likely, but why was he back on the ground?
Sitting up, he saw his situation and choked back a scream. Not 100 yards away was the Denva/Mispy raised Road that they arrived at yesterday. He was out on the Great Prairie and all around him were herds of animals. He looked east and west and could not see the ends of the Road at all.
Porcero reached for his comslate, but it was gone. Oh, no no no, they had stranded him! His disloyal cyclists had stranded him! He stood up and began to run towards the Road. Maybe he could attract someone’s attention. He knew he could never climb the 150 foot pylons that held the road up, but maybe somebody would hear him yelling.
He was directly under the edge of the Road, calling out at the top of his lungs, when he heard growling coming from the tall grass. Then his mind broke completely and he never even felt the attack when it came.
The cyclists were now sixty miles southwest of where they had lowered Porcero onto the prairie. They could see a Town in the distance and they all agreed that they would spend at least two days sleeping at an inn.
Before they got there, Zao used the comslate to send out a message to all the other comslates in North America. It was simple and to the point.
“Porcero dead. Rebellion defeated early on. Relic soon to be in Museum hands. Suggest all rebels disappear or beg forgiveness.”
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