Vurt

Into a world of numbers.

Falling.

A realm of mists, where green and violet inpho played on waves of shadows. The smell of jasmine enveloping me. I was falling through the clouds of yellow, and as I was falling I could still move around, twisting to the right.

Still falling.

Twisting over again, trying to face upwards. But still falling. Turning around in a full circle, but no matter the direction I faced, I was still falling down, down towards the snake pit. And all these numbers floating by, pure and naked information, wrapping me up in mathematics. The records of all my crimes were being written in the saffron air. And all of the Stash Riders' crimes. Everything. All we had done, and lost, and killed. I was coming to it then, the story, where I was, with my hair still wet from the outside rain, inside this palace of numbers.

I was inside of Takshaka's head, Copvurt Yellow, where he played all his inpho, working it all out, all the crimes of the world. I was falling through this sea of maths, without any feelings of up or down, just travelling, until something whipped itself around my leg, low down, around the ankle, where the dreamsnake had bit. I was pulled back tight by the pressure, my spine jackknifing, so that the Thing was pressed between my shoulder blades and the small of my back. Thing didn't make a sound, cushioning the blow for me. Then I was whipped back the other way, so that my head came up towards my stomach, pulling the Thing with me, until I was looking direct into the king of snakes.

Takshaka was floating in space, his tail wrapped around my ankle, his face inches from mine, so I could smell the shadow-breath, and see the orange cells of inpho moving around inside his eyes.

I'M THINKING I SHOULD JUST DROP YOU.

This isn't real!

YOU'VE BEEN A PAIN IN THE GUT, SCRIBBLE.

He was beaming direct into my skull, drilling through the bone with his words, pricking my soft brain until I got the message, each word a new pain.

THERE'S SOME BAD MOTHERS DOWN THERE. SOME REAL TASTY EQUATIONS. THEY CAN FRACTALIZE A MAN IN SECONDS. THIS IS A YELLOW VURT. THE COLOUR THAT KILLS. YOU WANT THAT?

He let my head fall back so that I was suspended over the space. Down below there were numbers and symbols clashing against each other. It looked like a set of jaws down there, opening and closing. And where the equations were being solved, broken numbers were being discarded, forming themselves into columns of jagged teeth.

SHAME ABOUT THE BEETLE. HE WENT OUT GOOD, DIDN'T HE? I LIKE THAT IN A MAN. COULD'VE FOUND A PLACE FOR HIM ON THE FORCE. WE NEED SOME DEMONS LIKE THAT. I'M TELLING YOU SCRIBBLE, THE STATE OF THE PURE COPS WE GET, WELL IT MAKES YOU WANT TO CRY.

He loosened his grip a little, so that I jerked down some two feet or so, before he caught me again, tightening.

WHOOPS! NEARLY LOST YOU THEN.

He brought his ravaged face down to my new level.

EXCEPT FOR MURDOCH, OF COURSE. SHE WAS GOOD AND FINE. SUPER PURE. AND OH SO VERY GOOD IN BED. WHOOPS! THERE YOU GO!

And I could feel his tail unravelling.

Then I was falling down, into the mouth of the numbersnakes, screaming.

"Aiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!"

Down the world, accelerating, snakes hissing from the blur as I plummeted, my mind going blank, and dreaming, so that I landed in somebody's soft arms, and they were raising me up, and this soft voice calling to me, softly, from the dream's mouth.

"I've got you, Scribble," the voice said to me. "I've got you in my arms."

I opened my eyes to see the Game Cat's crooked smile.

He was floating in the tu

"Cat!" I called out, just the name, the one word. All I could manage.

"Never mind," he said. "Just watch this."

The Cat raised up his free arm. There was a ball hammer in it, and I could see the snakeweed sap dribbling there, on the head.

Takshaka came down fast for him, hissing with anger and frustration.

So I guess the snake lost the edge, losing to anger.

Cat was super cool. He swung the hammer around, in a wave of heat. And then swung it back, inch-perfect, timed like a Vurtball player, going for the wi

Met that snakehead, full on.

There was a clang of light, then a hissing, burning sound. And the crunch of flesh against steel. Something went sliding past my head, and when I turned to look, I could see Takshaka tumbling over and over, tail whipping, screaming, blood pumping from his face. He fell into the jaws of numbers. The equations closed over the King Snake, biting shut, until only his cry was left. And then his long body was snapped in two. An explosion of orange sap, spraying all over. Me and the Cat covered in it.

Game Cat dropped the hammer after him. "You think I do this for just anyone?" he whispered, snake juice dripping off his face. "You think I'm doing this for you?"

"You killed him?"

The Cat took a yellow feather out of his pocket. "You don't kill something like Takshaka. You just win the current game."

"Thank you."

He placed the feather in his mouth, working it. One by one the list of Stash Rider crimes deleted themselves from the air. Cat pulled out the Takshaka feather, placed it in my mouth.

"This isn't for you," the Cat answered. "This is for Tristan."

Then I was gone, pitched out, jerked back, where no jerkout switch ever lived.

I must have passed out some few seconds there, on the field of mud, because when I opened my eyes there was this smiling face staring down at me.

"I don't know what you did, mate, but that snake just went woomph! It was great."

I felt a strong hand clutching under my shoulder, and then lifting me up, until I was looking direct into this Asian face. The rain was dripping over his colour, like rain in the dusk. His black hair was wetted down all over his eyes, but I could see the life in them, the energy.

"Go for it, mate," he said. "Whatever it is."

Then he was leading me over the grass, to where Twinkle was waiting. I was looking all around, expecting a snake to come hunting for me. But there was no sign, no colours, just the grey rain pock-marking the waters of the boating lake.

I fell into Twinkle's arms.

She reached up for my face to scrub some of the mud away. It felt good, her touch. I took the young man's hand in mine. He smiled. Over his shoulder I could make out the rest of the lads ru

"You do good, now," the Asian said, and then walked away, into the rain. Over on the playing fields they were shutting down the system; the lights going out, one by one, until darkness settled.

Midnight.

Twinkle took my hand. There was still some dogshit on me but the rain was taking care of that. But the Thing on my back was -

The dead weight of... I was suddenly back on the field, feeling the bullets hit. But now seeing for real where

those bullets had landed. They shot the Thing," I said to Twinkle. "Don't worry," she said. But I couldn't stop crying. "Thing is dead." All I could say. All I could think about Because that was Desdemona gone. "Keep going, Mister Scribble. Big Thing saved you." "What for?" I asked the girl. "What for?"

Because you can't swap death for life. Not even in the Vurt.

The boating lake shining with the last remnants of the day. The bag of dead flesh on my

back. Me and that young girl, walking along the water's edge. Heading for nowhere. Shit cleansed in the rain.