\u201cHe\u2019s still after us,\u201d pants Cheryl.<\/p>\n
She isn\u2019t panting because pants are the opposite of hats, for clarity. She\u2019s panting because she\u2019s been exercising very hard.<\/p>\n
Also, boots<\/i> are the opposite of hats.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t want to die,\u201d she says. \u201cI haven\u2019t even finished my one-use matter transmission system or my origami bombs.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe won\u2019t die,\u201d says Tom. \u201cIt\u2019s just an adventure.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUm,\u201d says Cheryl.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere is no way,\u201d says Tom, \u201cthat I\u2019m going to let Edmund<\/i> kill and eat me. That\u2019s against everything I stand for!\u201d<\/p>\n
They\u2019ve retreated back into the hat cemetery. They\u2019ve crawled under the plastic ropes that fence it off with a still semi-conscious Peter held between them. They\u2019ve tried to lose themselves in the natural geography of the hat cemetery, with the help of Tom\u2019s extensive experience with dead hats and Cheryl\u2019s folding ability, but even a blind<\/i> wolf could follow the scent trail left by Tom\u2019s cologne.<\/p>\n
(Unless its nose was also blind, and possibly even then.)<\/p>\n
\u201cTom,\u201d whispers an echoing voice, through the hat cemetery. \u201cCome help me, Tom. I can\u2019t control it, Tom.\u201d<\/p>\n
It doesn\u2019t sound desperate. It sounds mocking, and rich with hunger. But maybe that\u2019s just how someone sounds when suddenly they\u2019re driven to kill and eat you. It\u2019s not a normal experience, you know, on either side.<\/p>\n
\u201cI need to eat, Tom. I need to be stronger so I can break my chains. Right now I\u2019m hardly any stronger than a boy. But if I eat you, I\u2019ll have your strength and not just mine. Won\u2019t that be nice? Yours, and Peter\u2019s, and \u2014 is that girl worth eating? You must be honest with me, Tom.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s sharp as a tack that\u2019s stuck in another tack!\u201d shouts Tom, and doesn\u2019t understand at all why Cheryl hits his arm.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was praising you,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t \u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
She flails. Then she says, unhappily, \u201cFine. I apologize for hitting you. You may praise me as freely as you like.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd she\u2019s courteous!\u201d Tom shouts.<\/p>\n
There is a silence for a bit.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t humanize her, Tom,\u201d comes Edmund\u2019s voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe is<\/i> human \u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
Tom looks at Cheryl. \u201cWait, are we still human?\u201d<\/p>\n
Cheryl shrugs.<\/p>\n
\u201cI think she is <\/i>human,\u201d Tom calls.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll let the others go if you\u2019ll come to me,\u201d says Edmund. \u201cYou\u2019re the tastiest. I\u2019ll eat them later, but I won\u2019t eat them today. You\u2019d be the best. We could have forever. <\/i>You\u2019d be so sweet.<\/i>\u201d<\/p>\n
Tom is shaking with fury and exhaustion.<\/p>\n
\u201cSweet like your mother,\u201d shouts Tom, in what probably qualifies as the worst attempt at insulting somebody ever. \u201cI\u2019m a science adventurer!\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
One reason that this is an extremely bad attempt at insulting someone is that one is not supposed to compare oneself<\/i> to the mother in question when using a \u2018your mother\u2019 style insult. Another is that \u2018your mother\u2019 style insults are part and parcel of a pervasively patriarchal society that science adventurers are normally inclined to deny their actual participation in. And one hardly needs point out the tackiness and problematic sexual connotations of the use of \u2018sweet\u2019 in this particular insult.<\/p>\n
Most importantly, it is a bad insult because it leaves Edmund completely confused.<\/p>\n
\u201cHelissent was a science adventurer?\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo!\u201d shouts Tom.<\/p>\n
Then he staggers a few steps onwards, trying to look as if he\u2019s somehow won or proved something. Lightning sets small fires on the hills.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe cheek,\u201d he says, to Cheryl. He glares at her, not for any particularly good reason. He doesn\u2019t specify which of Edmund\u2019s cheeks he means, or if he means one of Edmund\u2019s cheeks at all.<\/p>\n
Possibly there is a hat, nearby, that has a cheek.<\/p>\n
Why would anybody do that to a hat?<\/p>\n
Peter mumbles something again. He flails an arm. He knocks over a hat. It tumbles down a steep hat-slope into the night.<\/p>\n
That was probably the one!<\/p>\n
Tom opens his mouth. He\u2019s going to yell something.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s probably trying to provoke you,\u201d says Cheryl. \u201cYou know. Into revealing our location.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh,\u201d says Tom, a bit embarrassed.<\/p>\n
\u201cBy shouting,\u201d Cheryl explains.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh,\u201d says Tom again.<\/p>\n
He hesitates.<\/p>\n
Then an idea strikes him. \u201cCan you fold the sounds of my yelling so that they seem to come from somewhere else?\u201d<\/p>\n
She looks at him. \u201cNot without a sound-folding device.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSeriously, Tom.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSorry!\u201d<\/p>\n
They stagger on. Tom falls down. He tries to get up again. He can\u2019t. Not while pulling Peter along.<\/p>\n
\u201cPeter,\u201d singsongs Edmund. \u201cPeter. Are you still with them, Peter? You mustn\u2019t trust them, Peter. He\u2019s just tenderizing you for my supper, Tom is.\u201d<\/p>\n
Tom\u2019s voice is nauseated. \u201cThere is nothing for it. We will have to do it. I do not want to do it. Not like this.\u201d<\/p>\n
Cheryl blinks. \u201cYou\u2019re going to tenderize him?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo!\u201d<\/p>\n
Peter is drooling a little.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. Well, maybe a little? I don\u2019t know! I just wish he were conscious for this. He deserves self-determination in his hatting or not being hatted, but \u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
Sheets of sudden rain tear across them. Lightning flashes in the sky overhead. It limns and silhouettes a beast that stares down at them from atop a hill of hats.<\/p>\n
Tom closes his eyes in pain.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh,\u201d Cheryl says.<\/p>\n
\u201cTom,\u201d cries Edmund. \u201cI can smell you. I\u2019m almost on you. Wash your neck, Tom.\u201d<\/p>\n
Tom opens his eyes.<\/p>\n
They are gone full black: the color of the House of Dreams.<\/p>\n
\u201cForgive me,\u201d he says, to Peter. \u201cI am a prisoner of my circumstances.\u201d<\/p>\n
He holds his hat high. He brings it down on Peter\u2019s head. It goes right over his face, just like Peter wants to stay asleep a little longer.<\/p>\n
The boy\u2019s boots twitch. His body shudders. He who was a boy of many directions is made over into a boy of one.<\/p>\n
\u201cPtuh,\u201d says Peter. It\u2019s a spitting noise. He isn\u2019t spitting into the hat. It\u2019s just kind of what the noise he\u2019s making sounds like.<\/p>\n
The Edmund-beast is skidding down a hat-hill towards them. It is alternating sliding and loping. The beast can be seen to slaver when the lightning flashes behind it.<\/p>\n
Peter sits up.<\/p>\n
He shakes off the hat.<\/p>\n
He is on his feet in one boneless maneuver. He takes in the world. His eyes burn red. He blurs into the sky like Vaenwode\u2019s spear; he strikes true. He tackles Edmund: flings back the beast; pins him against a great shelf of hats.<\/p>\n
Lightning strikes and thunder growls where Edmund had almost been. It hits a vaporous node. It ignites it, and behind the tumbling pair there is an explosion that fills the eyes of Tom and Cheryl with red-white glare.<\/p>\n
Peter rolls off of Edmund.<\/p>\n
Peter scrambles for a fez. He pulls it on. He glares at it. He hunts, desperately, in the pile, for any non-<\/i>fez red hats.<\/p>\n
Edmund stumbles to his feet.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot now,\u201d snaps Peter. He waves Edmund away. \u201cI have to find a non-ridiculous red hat!\u201d<\/p>\n
Edmund squints at him. Then he shrugs. He reaches into the pile of hats. He\u2019s spotted a bit of red yarn. He tosses Peter a dead knit cap.<\/p>\n
\u201cThanks,\u201d says Peter.<\/p>\n
Peter sinks back to the ground with relief.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat was a bit of a thing,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
Tom and Cheryl are staring at them. Tom is squinting and swaying. Cheryl is trying to finish a prototype origami bomb.<\/p>\n
Edmund tilts his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cPeter,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know, I know,\u201d Peter says. \u201cYou\u2019re going to eat me. Can we talk first?\u201d<\/p>\n
Edmund moves. He attempts to rip Peter\u2019s throat out. Peter isn\u2019t there. There\u2019s just a wreath of red around his hand. Peter has vanished into ninja-space.<\/p>\n
He spirals back into being a little further up the hill.<\/p>\n
\u201cApparently we can,\u201d Edmund says.<\/p>\n
He laughs.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, whatever. Sure. Fine. Talk to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
He waves Tom and Cheryl off.<\/p>\n
\u201cGet out of here!\u201d Edmund calls. \u201cThis guy\u2019s given his life for you. I think. I don\u2019t know. Go!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s really gracious!\u201d Tom yells back.<\/p>\n
\u201cTom,\u201d <\/i>says Cheryl.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s practically my brother,\u201d Tom says.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh.\u201d<\/p>\n
Cheryl attempts to imagine the family Tom grew up with.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not what I imagined,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere was also a Taoist deity and the antichrist,\u201d Tom says. \u201cBut they\u2019re off in nunneries and rot. We had such <\/i>good <\/i>times.\u201d<\/p>\n
They drag one another off through the hills and valleys of the hats.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo,\u201d says Edmund.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s it like for you?\u201d Peter asks.<\/p>\n
Edmund blinks at him. \u201cIt is very difficult, Peter. I am very hungry, and suddenly all of the people I care about appear to be made out of meat.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t think I am,\u201d Peter says.<\/p>\n
Edmund sniffs the air.<\/p>\n
\u201cKeep telling yourself that,\u201d Edmund says.<\/p>\n
\u201cI woke up,\u201d says Peter, \u201cand suddenly everything that was in me, everything that had been skew was straightened. Everything that had struggled in me was smoothed out. I looked up and I saw you, and I saw the tickling premonition of the storm, and I thought: Edmund is going to die. <\/i>So I jumped. And it was beautiful. It was totally clean.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, yeah,\u201d says Edmund. \u201cYou\u2019re really fresh. I\u2019m looking forward to it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not for <\/i>you,\u201d says Peter.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat isn\u2019t?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy \u2014\u201d Peter flushes.\u00a0 \u201cLook, I don\u2019t want to talk about myself as edible.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAw,\u201d says Edmund. \u201cMr. Perfected is embarrassed about his nutritional information. What\u2019s your secret shame, Peter? Is it the trans-fats? The lack of vitamins? Ooh, do you contain more than the recommended daily allowance of sodium? Because you have to understand, Peter, that the nitty-gritty of nutritional concerns ought to be secondary to living a generally healthy and fulfilling life.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI have trim nails,\u201d Peter says. \u201cPerfectly neat. Look at those. How does that even happen? How does a hat do that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe bound you,\u201d shrugs Edmund. \u201cI think. He trapped you in his hat-chains. His milliner\u2019s gaol.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u201cAm I bound?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d Edmund says, softly.<\/p>\n
\u201cHuh,\u201d says Peter. \u201cAre you?\u201d<\/p>\n
Edmund makes a whimpering laugh.<\/p>\n
\u201cI have never felt this good,\u201d Peter says. \u201cNot in my entire life. You know. I don\u2019t feel chained.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re not making this easy, Peter,\u201d says Edmund.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not supposed to be easy,\u201d Peter says.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is,\u201d says Edmund. \u201cCome on. Please. It\u2019s one thing to talk to you. I can still talk to you. But I haven\u2019t eaten anybody.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAndrea.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI haven\u2019t eaten hardly anybody,\u201d clarifies Edmund. \u201cHardly anybody. This isn\u2019t right, Peter. You\u2019re just standing there and I can hear your stomach, you\u2019ve got food in your stomach, don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n
Edmund tilts his head to one side. Then he looks ill.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d he says. \u201cYou don\u2019t, do you. That\u2019s manna.<\/i> You\u2019ve gone all holy<\/i>. Oh, Peter.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHoly?\u201d Peter says.<\/p>\n
He thinks about that.<\/p>\n
He walks a bit away along the edge of the hill of hats.<\/p>\n
\u201cI think I finally understand why I told the Devil no,\u201d he says. He turns. He smiles at Edmund. \u201cI think I finally get it<\/i>. It\u2019s not because scissors ought to be beaten up. It because most of the people they fall on probably shouldn\u2019t ought to die.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDamn it, Peter,\u201d whispers Edmund.<\/p>\n
Peter grins at him. The lightning shines behind him like a mandorla. \u201cYou think I ought<\/i> to make this easy, scrub? You think you can just put on a white hat and suddenly it\u2019s OK to come in and kill and eat me? <\/i>Choke on this, Edmund: no.<\/i>\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s just the hat talking,\u201d Edmund says.<\/p>\n
\u201cBad. Dog.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you could see,\u201d Edmund tries. \u201cIf you could see what it\u2019s done to you. You\u2019d beg to die. You\u2019re begging me now. I can see it. It\u2019s hidden but I can see it. You\u2019re screaming. He\u2019s sainted you, Peter. You. <\/i>Of all people, you. <\/i>You can\u2019t possibly want to live that way.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a bad puppy that kills and eats people,\u201d Peter says. \u201cThis is a thing that should not be done.\u201d<\/p>\n
(He\u2019s right, incidentally.)<\/p>\n
Edmund licks his lips. He swallows.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re a bloody frosh,\u201d Peter adds. \u201cYou\u2019re lucky I don\u2019t tan your hide.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re a saint!\u201d<\/p>\n
Peter tilts his head to one side. \u201cWell, yes,\u201d he says. \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Edmund grinds his teeth. He\u2019s going to do it. He resolves to do it. Later, when he has time to think about it, he\u2019ll be angry at himself; he\u2019ll writhe, unhappily, because it is<\/i> a bad puppy, wolf, well, Edmund, really, a bad and human boy that would kill and eat people when they haven\u2019t even given permission; but he\u2019s going to do it. He can see the movements in his head. They\u2019re all planned out. He slings low his lower jaw.<\/p>\n
\u201cOne day,\u201d Peter interrupts him, \u201cyou know, when there\u2019s scissors in the head of your wolf \u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
Edmund\u2019s intentions stumble.<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2014 and scissors in its paws, and you\u2019re laying there broken on the ground trying to remember how to breathe, and staring up with those dead white eyes, you\u2019ll think, well, at least, Peter\u2019s up there fighting for us. Up there in the sky with the scissors. So maybe somehow things\u2019ll be all right.\u201d<\/p>\n
Edmund clicks his mouth closed.<\/p>\n
There is a long silence.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd will they?\u201d he asks quietly. \u201cWill they, Peter?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d Peter says. \u201cNo. Not really.\u201d<\/p>\n
He turns away.<\/p>\n
\u201cNothing\u2019ll be OK,\u201d he says, \u201cI think, until the jaguars fall.\u201d<\/p>\n
Edmund stares at him. Peter shrugs. Peter makes faces. Peter walks away. Edmund lunges after him, hungry, wild, but he trips on a slippery hat. Why do they even make slippery hats? But I guess the question answers itself.<\/p>\n
Edmund falls.<\/p>\n
Thank Heaven for slippery hats!<\/p>\n
And he tries to get up. He tries to tackle Peter from behind. But it\u2019s too hard. It\u2019s too evil. It\u2019s too complicated. He\u2019s too hungry. He can\u2019t do it. He can\u2019t even do it. He isn\u2019t even a good<\/i> bad dog. \u201cWhat,\u201d he says, struggling, \u201cwhat if I, I mean, maybe, maybe would you like me to not<\/i>, not eat you, Peter?\u201d<\/p>\n
But however clever this trick might be, the red-hatted boy is gone.<\/p>\n
\u201cSpudgeflidgeon,\u201d swears the cannibal. \u201cSpudgeflidgeon. Fuck. Glip.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
I don\u2019t know where he even got <\/i>language like that. It is probably the corrosive influence of youth culture.<\/p>\n
\u201cGeffle-twonk,\u201d swears he.<\/p>\n
And he eats the corpses of the hats: tens of them, hundreds of them, he swells into a ball that rolls about the hills and vales of the hats until his wolf-gut digests it and unswells him, but this is extremely bad cannibalism, he would get an F in it twere it a subject, and it only makes him hungrier, in the end.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u201cHe\u2019s still after us,\u201d pants Cheryl. She isn\u2019t panting because pants are the opposite of hats, for clarity. She\u2019s panting because she\u2019s been exercising very hard. Also, boots are the opposite of hats. \u201cI don\u2019t want to die,\u201d she says. \u201cI haven\u2019t even finished my one-use matter transmission system or my origami bombs.\u201d \u201cWe won\u2019t […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":4311,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[23],"tags":[],"series":[47],"class_list":["post-5026","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-the-storm-that-saw-itself-chapter-2","series-the-storm-that-saw-itself"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/05\/Lightning_Amidst_the_Hats.png","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5026","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=5026"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5026\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6168,"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5026\/revisions\/6168"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/4311"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=5026"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=5026"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=5026"},{"taxonomy":"series","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fseries&post=5026"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}