Cineverse - Bride Of The Slime Monster Part 16

But Roger couldn't give in to despair. He had Katrina working with him; he simply had to come up with a new approach. How did you indicate the senses? It was hard with the eyes.

Roger pointed to his nose.

''Smortz,'' Katrina replied.

nose, the subt.i.tle read.

Roger sniffed exaggeratedly.

"Smortzen?" Katrina asked.

smell? was the subt.i.tle. Yes! Roger was on the right track. He pointed back to his eye."Snortz?" Katrina ventured. "Snortzen?"

eye? read the letters near her waist. see?

Yes! Roger nodded his head rapidly and clapped his hands. They were on their way!

Katrina picked up right away on "me" and "you" when Roger pointed to both of them repeatedly. You was "norma"-he should have remembered that. Roger mimed laughter, and got the word "snucksky" from Katrina. But how was he going to come up with the word for papers?

That's when he remembered the book he'd stuck inside his elastic waistband: The Cineverse-From A to Zed. He'd simply point at one page, then another.

pamphlet, came the subt.i.tled response. Then periodical. Then pointing. Roger crinkled a corner of the page.

"Storken," Katrina replied.

paper, the subt.i.tle read.

Roger nodded, crumpling a second page.

"Storkena?" Katrina added.

"Yes!" Roger shouted.

"Snucksen vorden merkna valarie," Katrina announced.

I AM GLAD YOU ARE SO HAPPY. HOWEVER, WE MUST SEE MY SISTER.

BEFORE DARK. SHE IS EXPECTING US, AFTER ALL, AND THE.

DISTANCE, WHILE NOT GREAT, CAN BE TIRING, ESPECIALLY IF YOU.

HAVE TO WALK INTO THE WIND.

Katrina had said all that? There was obviously a lot about this language that Roger had yet to figure out.

Roger stood up and pointed down the path.

"Go?" he inquired.

"Oucs.h.!.+" she exclaimed as she also stood. "Minsky vlerben mordet karben tertra koriden zumma-zumma nigs-lipzen bedorm valarie krensk niebelungenkameradshaften-volkswagen shaboom shaboom!"

yes was the only word that appeared at her waist. Then again, Roger realized, there might be some problems with the translation.

Katrina led the way at a brisk pace. Roger hurried to keep up, but somehow she managed to stay a good dozen feet in front of him. He pulled out his ring. He had the translation for "See you in the funny papers." He might as well see if it would work. Was there any last thing he wanted to say to his guide?

"Katrina!" he called.

"Glorben snurbs!" she shouted back without looking around. And this time there was no subt.i.tle at all.

Very well. There was probably no need for explanations if he disappeared from a place like this. The locals would simply chalk it up to more symbolism.

He took a deep breath and twisted the ring.

"Snortzen Stephanie snucksky storkena!" he yelled.

Nothing happened. He looked at the subt.i.tle.

LOOKING AT YOU WITH THE HUMOROUS BOOKS!.

Well, that might not have been exactly what he wanted, but it should have been close enough, shouldn't it? Then, . why had nothing happened? Maybe he hadn't spoken with enough conviction.

He said the foreign phrase again, slowly and clearly, twisting the ring the other way.

"Snortzen Stephanie snucksky storkena!"

Still nothing but the same subt.i.tle about looking at humorous books. And if that phrase wasn't close enough, he didn't know how he could get any closer. Maybe the Professor Peril theory was right after all.

Katrina glanced over her shoulder without slackening her pace. "Minsky mensky geslunden?" she demanded. She didn't have any subt.i.tle this time either.

Wait a second, Roger realized. Wasn't there some flickering against the sky? Why hadn't he seen this before? It wasn't as if this were anything new-he always had this sort of problem with foreign films. With Katrina so far ahead of him, the letters must be appearing all the way on the other side of her, right up against that colorless sky, making the subt.i.tles white on white and completely illegible.

So her words were lost to him. Roger hoped whatever she had said wasn't essential to the plot. Although, now that he thought about it, what did the plot matter if he couldn't use his Captain Crusader Decoder Ring?

He followed Katrina listlessly to the lake, which-despite her protestations of hards.h.i.+p and distance-was only over the next hill. The water showed the same lack of color as the sky, and the modest expanse of liquid was bordered only by a few more of those ever-present barren trees, and a small shack, which, if Roger had been feeling more generous than his present circ.u.mstances allowed, he might have cla.s.sified as a hovel.

Katrina walked straight to the shack. She banged on the door."Valarie zurben-zurben," she told Roger authoritatively.

MY SISTER WILL ANSWER.

The subt.i.tle, appearing against the dark and rotting wood, was once again legible.

Katrina banged on the door again. There was no sound from inside.

Katrina frowned at Roger.

"Glurben knocken kneesa."

YOU SEEM NERVOUS.

Roger jumped at the suggestion. "Uh-" he faltered. But how could he explain when he didn't know the language?

"Smeltzny Piers geblurben?" she demanded.

WHAT DID PIERS TELL YOU ABOUT MY SISTER?.

What use was it to lie? Roger-after a second's thought to consider the most appropriate pantomime-clutched his heart and fell to the ground. Katrina began to speak rapidly. Roger pushed himself to his knees so that he could read the subt.i.tle.

THAT SHE WAS DEAD? DO NOT BELIEVE HIM. MY SISTER LIV IS.

QUITE ALIVE. IT IS PIERS WHO CANNOT ACCEPT THE TRUTH.

Accepting the truth? This was sounding more like an Art Film with every pa.s.sing minute. What was the truth? And should Roger even care?

He stumbled to his feet. He almost fell over again when the shack's door flew open.

"Gretzky!" Katrina said triumphantly. "Birdenparish."

see? the subt.i.tle read. liv is alive.

Her sister rushed from the shack. Her hair was a matted gray tangle that flopped about her head, her eyes two blazing points of blue in an unnaturally pale face, her clothing little more than tattered rags hanging from her emaciated body.

Her hands grabbed Roger's neck in a stranglehold.

"Viola canseco wadeboggs," Katrina confided.

she IS also quite mad Roger read with his blurring vision.

"Lars," Katrina's sister whispered hoa.r.s.ely.

lars her subt.i.tle read. Roger tried, ineffectually, to pry her iron fingers from his throat. Katrina said something in return, but the sound of pounding blood was too loud on Roger's ears for him to catch the words. He could, however, just barely read the subt.i.tle: YES. I HAVE BROUGHT YOU LARS, AND I HAVE BROUGHT YOU A.

KNIFE. IT'S ALMOST BRAND NEW, ONLY USED TO CUT CHEESE.

Lars? Knife? Roger struggled to comprehend. The mad Liv eased her hold for an instant, and Roger tried to think of something, anything, he could say to make her stop. He hadn't figured out all that many of the words, and now he couldn't remember any of them. Still, he knew he had to try, if he didn't want to die. Maybe the very sound of his voice would disturb the mad sister enough so that he might break away.

"Mensky-uh-valarie-gesundheit-uh-urkl'' The last sound came as Liv once again tightened her grip.

come to me, the subt.i.tle read, my little piglet.

How could he have said anything like that? The pressure increased at his throat.

Roger was almost too upset to struggle. He didn't even know the word for piglet!

Katrina was talking to her sister again. He managed to read the subt.i.tle: KILL THIS ONE SLOWLY, WOULD YOU? IT IS SO STRESSFUL TO FIND.

REPLACEMENTS.

Liv nodded and shook Roger by the throat one more time. He said Urk again for good measure.

piglet, the subt.i.tle read. Liv kicked him in the kneecap.

Katrina smiled at Roger and said a final few words just for him: IT IS NOT MUCH, BUT IT KEEPS HER HAPPY.

She turned to go, and Liv yanked Roger inside by the throat. She threw him down on a corner pile of straw. His head hit something hard. He gasped for breath, but it was no use. Liv's grip had been too firm, the knock on the back of his head too solid. The oddly s.p.a.ced boards that crisscrossed the hovel's roof swirled wildly overhead. He could feel his consciousness slipping ...

slipping...

slipping...

slipping....

He struggled to stay awake, but the world swung around him at a fantastic speed, colors bleeding, objects blurring...

blurring...

blurring...

blurring....

Was there an echo in here somewhere?

* * *And, for that matter, where was "here" anyway?

He wasn't in the hovel anymore. The colors around here were much too bright. He squinted, trying to bring the pa.s.sing objects into focus.

Something large and pink and pudgy was screaming in the distance-actually, caterwauling would be a better description-a great booming cry like-Roger realized-a giant baby.

Another sound overlay the baby's cries, a steady, rhythmic sound. Roger turned around. His surroundings were becoming clearer. It was much easier to make out the clock face with the twirling hands.

Tick tock, went the clock.

Tick tock...

Tick tock...

Tick tock...

Yes, there was a definite echo around here. He heard another sound as the ticking faded, a mix of flutes and drums. Roger didn't have to turn around to know it was the all-nun band. He realized what all this meant. He had been wrong when he thought he had gone to some new world.

He was still in the Art Film, only more so.

He had fallen into a dream sequence.

A voice boomed over him, a voice that came from infinity: BRAVO!.

"Pardon?" Roger replied. He had heard that voice before. It surprised him not at all that he was turning around without using any of his muscles-this was a dream se- quence, after all--nor did it surprise him that he was now facing the man with the blue-smoke cigar.

ROGER, SWEETIE, BABY!.