Chapter 13

The youth stared at him for a moment. "All right, forget it! Whatcha eatin'? What's in th' poke?" He gestured toward Demo's pouch.

"Food, good food. Would you care for some tasty viands?"

"Vines? Did you say vines? That ain't vines you're eatin'. Looks like meat to me. You got any more?"

"Yes, try it. You'll find it quite tasty. My mother dried it under the sun, salted it herself."

The suppliant tasted the dried venison, looked at Demo in disbelief. "Hell, I'm going to the Salvation Army. You really eat this stuff!"

A large horseless chariot pulled up alongside him. A woman starred at him through some strange, clear material. She smiled, then laughed. He looked around to see what caused her laughter.

Nothing untoward met his sight. Ill-dressed heathens strolled aimlessly, it seemed, along the wide pathway. No, there was nothing amusing to be seen.

Frowning, he continued to eat his dried venison. Two men dismounted from the chariot, and it drove away, moaning in a disquieting manner.

Inside the passengers were looking at him through the viewing space in the rear.

Perhaps it is my garb. Here they dress strangely.

"Hare Krishna?"

One of the passengers who had descended addressed him.

"No, Demo."

"That's a new one. Is it Indian?"

"I don't think so. Greek."

"Greek? Well, new ones are popping up all over. Here, just to show you I'm open-minded, I'll donate a couple of bucks. Good luck."

The man walked off, murmuring, "Demo, and Greek! L A is the place, I'll tell you!"

He approached a large building. It had openings through which he could see, but could not enter. However, watching the strange people he noted an entrance that resembled a whirligig. My, he thought, how many years since I played with a whirligig. Anyway, as people went in and out, the door rotated.

Finally, he entered the building.

A boy stood in front of a silver recess, leaned down, and a gush of water rose, striking him on the mouth. Only then did Demo realize he was thirsty. When the boy moved Demo approached the recess, leaned down.

Demo frowned. Nothing had happened.

He leaned forward again. A man looked at him, "Hey, it ain't broke again, is it?" The man pressed the button and a stream of water struck Demo's face. He sputtered, then drank thirstily.

What part of Olympus is this, he thought. It resembles nothing I've seen before.

Nevertheless, it was becoming gradually familiar. He entered a little room that had the picture of a man on the door. After watching a few moments he found himself well versed on the facilities.

Fortunately, item after item followed a similar pattern. The important thing was to watch. The paper given to him earlier served as money. You used money to buy from machines and from individuals. Of course, how to get money was unclear.

Then he thought of the boy who had asked him for a dollar. Of course, just ask.

He tried it. At first he felt a little strange, for time after time the individuals he asked seemed a little embarrassed, finally provided either coins or paper. "Damn cults everywhere. All right, here, just leave me alone."

The young supplicant soon found his purse bursting with paper. It was a strange phenomenon. Ask for money, it is given to you. Give it to machines, to individuals, and they give you products. Not too unlike home, except for the first step.

Cronus frowned.

There is something I've overlooked, he thought to himself. Something important. Well, tomorrow I'll get around to it.

The thought struck him.

Demo! He had been aging Demo! Then, he had helped his wife with the sundial. Then . . . . Oh, ho! The boy! What of the boy?

"Ah, I've lost him!" He spoke aloud. "I've let him slip off, and I didn't really note to where - rather, to when. Drat, it's inconvenient. I suppose he'll show up by and by, sometime. Yes. I wonder, what time?"

At that moment he heard his wife calling. Evening meal was ready. Thank goodness, I am famished, thought he.

It was a delicious meal.

Demo left the building, watched the chariots stopped in the broad streets, growls issuing from inside. At times other sounds issued from the vehicles. Loud and raucous, the sounds repeated and repeated, as though some musical instruments were being played out of tune. Accompanying these sounds were screams and yells of tortured innocents.

He could only assume that, in some manner, the chariots had malfunctioned.

Duane Golchick and Ralph Fulcere waited nervously outside the bank door. The customers were thinning out as three o'clock closing time neared. Finally the last of the stragglers left.

Duane and Ralph entered quickly.

"Say, I'm sorry, we were just closing." The guard smiled, motioned them toward the door.

"Just walk over to the counter with us. Put your hands behind your neck and hold 'em there." Duane spoke in a half snarl, held a revolver in his hand.

The guard noticed the nervous motion of the gunbarrel. "Okay, okay, don't be nervous. Whatever you say! Just take it easy! No one's causing any trouble."

"All right, listen up!" Ralph shouted. "This is a holdup! Any screams, any alarms, and we'll take you out. And we don't care who we shoot first, so you heroes just give it a try. Open it up, babe."

He indicated the gate leading behind the counters. The clerk nervously fumbled with the catch, finally opened the gate.

Duane and Ralph cleaned out the drawers, stuffing bills into a garbage bag. "On the floor, all of you. Hands straight out, legs spread, face down. Lift a head, move a muscle, and you're history!"

The left the building quietly. No one had moved. No one was moving now. They ran for the car, parked in a nearby alley.

A man in blue stopped Demo.

"Those arrows real?"

"Oh, yes, very real. Deadly, too. I've killed many a buck with them. Won a few tournaments, too."

"I thought so. You got a license to carry a deadly weapon? You ain't some kind of kook, here to kill off as many as you can, are you? Here, you better give me the bow."

"Oh, no, I couldn't do that! It's been in the family for generations. My Father used it to kill the sea serpent. And his Father before him to kill fire dragons. I just couldn't part with it."

The policeman, for such he was, looked at Demo in astonishment. "Oh, boy! One of those!"

He took out his communicator, called for reinforcements. "Were standing in front of the alley next to Martin's Bank. Seems like a loony. Anyway, so far he's not violent. Get some reinforcements over here, before he does go off his rocker. And tell Sue warm up my pizza. I'll be in about two hours from now. You let her know."

He had hardly signed off when he felt an object pressing against his neck. "Your in our way, Mr. Man. Now just pull out that gun and let it fall, real easy. Now, put your hands behind your head. Up against the wall. Spread 'em!" Ralph was relishing the situation.

"Get the gun and let's get out of here. You, get out of the way." Duane motioned to Demo, who stepped politely aside.

The two men entered the car, rev'd up the engine, pulled out into traffic.

"Stop them! Stop! Police!" The officer shouted.

Demo notched an arrow to his bow, drove it through the right rear tire of the vehicle. He then repeated the process with the left tire.

The car abruptly swerved, ran against the curb, jumped it.

Crashing into a store front, the engine died.

Almost at that instant the reinforcements arrived and hurried to the car.

"My God, it must be the kook with the bow. Look sticking out of those tire! See if anyone is hurt. I've got him in sight."

"Drop it, drop it now! I'll shoot!"

Demo glanced at the approaching form. This also was a blue clothed one. He turned to his companion. "Is he talking to you?"

"Hey, it's all right. He's okay. Get them gorillas in the car. Hurry, they're getting out!"

Everyone rushed madly toward the chariot. For a moment Demo watched, then turned with a shrug. An interesting, but kind of strange, sport.

"Hey, Guru, tell me what life signifies. You still chomping that dried junk?" The boy who had asked for a dollar was grinning at him.

"My name is Demo, not Guru. Yes, I rather enjoy dried venison."

"Look, Guru, no offense, eh? You got cover for the night? The Y has some pads open. They get taken in a hurry, so you better scat over there if you want one. Gonna rain before morning. Say, I'm Randy. Look, I can't pronounce that Demo bit, so you're Guru. Don't let it throw you."

"Cover? The Y? Ah, shelter from the rain? Yes, that would be well. You are kind. Where is this Y?"

"Hell, I'll baby sit you a while. Just follow along, sport."

They located an available pad, and Demo found himself in a dormitory filled with numerous unique individuals. The glances he received indicated that he won honors for uniqueness.

It is a law of nature that, for things to go right, there is only one viable path. For things to go wrong, the paths are infinite. Demo continued down one of the infinite paths.

Cronus had indeed attempted to make contact, return Demo to his own time and place. Cronus selected the right time without difficulty. Place, however? Well, place threw him a curve.

Demo had gone wandering off.

Cronus had rather limited power so far as space is concerned. Given sufficient time - of which he was the sole master - he could examine the reaches of space. And examining the reaches of space was his immediate goal.

He began the task methodically.

First, he returned himself to the time and space when he was occupied with aging Demo. Then he moved forward (time-wise) to that point in time when he was distracted. With care he then gave careful thought to the next incident.

Unfortunately, he found himself in the predicament many of us face from time to time.

He had a sudden mental lapse.

As the saying goes, the right words were on the tip of his tongue. Stubbornly, unfortunately, they clung there tenaciously. Grumbling, he vectored forward in time once more. I'll sleep on it, he decided. Tomorrow is soon enough.

Demo, if he were asked, would not have agreed.

Randy woke him early. He knew it was early because it was dark. Also, because he was sleepy. He was not by any stretch of the imagination an early bird. Au contraire!

They left the building hurriedly.

"Nice place and all," Randy noted. "Just keep in mind, some strange people stay here. I'd rather not meet them outside. 'Nough said?"

They walked along the pathway, which Randy called a sidewalk. Demo noted that he himself was rapidly developing an extended vocabulary of words, mainly from listening to Randy.

"Look, we got to scrounge some eatables, you know, food. Now there's a place over on 5th . . . ." He paused as Demo smiled, motioned toward his pouch.

"We can buy food. My pouch is full of paper, eh, money. Gifts! Dollars!"

Randy stared at him for a moment, put his hand in the pouch and pulled out a few bills. "All right, man! You are with it! Okay, let's hit this place across the way. I could use a good meal for a change."

The waitress smiled at them, looked at Demo's garb with curiosity. "Look, no offense, but you Joe's got cash? The boss is real mean about that!"

"Of course we got cash! Hey, show her, Guru!"

Demo pulled a handful of bills from his pouch, stuck them back in.

The waitress stuck out her lower lip, nodded. "Okay, here's the menu. What'll you have? The western omelette's not bad. Makes a good meal."

Randy ordered the omelette and coffee.

"I'll have the omelette and milk," Demo decided.

"Hey, Guru, where'd you get that rig? What's your thing, anyway? You're awful close mouthed."

"Randy, you ever hear of people traveling through time?"

"Oh, great! All right, forget it. Sorry I asked."

"No, really, I'm serious. I'm from Greece . . . from long time ago Greece. Don't ask me how I got here. I really don't know. And I don't know how to get back." Demo's disconsolate look almost convinced Randy.

"You are one good actor. I'm ready to break out a hanky. Look, I was out of line. You don't have to tell me anything. Hell, I've told you practically nothing about me, now have I?"

They finished their omelettes, and Randy was sipping his coffee when Demo glanced out the window.

"It's him! It's Cronus! I'm going back! Randy, thank you for your help. Here, take this money."

Demo pulled out handsful of bills, laid them on the table in front of Randy.

"Cronus! Come off it!" Randy glanced out the window.

A tall figure, dressed as was Demo, stood on the sidewalk. His face was grim, and he was making some weird, ritualistic motions. Randy looked toward Demo.

Demo was fading. At the moment he seemed at some point between clear jello and fog, with fog gaining the upper hand.

Randy reached out to grab Demo. His hand passed through the image in front of him, touched nothing.

He stood up, threw his arms around his new found friend.

A chill ran through him.

The room was darkening. His vision blurred.

"Not me! Leave me here! I belong here! I . . . ."

The words faded.

He was now part of the fog. He could see nothing, hear nothing.

But he knew things were happening.

Strange things.

The waitress stood beside the table, eyes wide. "Boss, I don't feel too good today. I think I better take the rest of the day off."

"You can't do that! Cecilia is ill, Grace is on vacation! Anyway, what's the problem?"

"Two boys! They were sitting here. I brought them omelets. Now look! They're gone. They didn't pay me, I didn't see them leave, they left all this money. Something is really weird. I think it may be me."

"Nah! Here, let me check the washroom. Anyway, what if they slipped out. That'll pay for the meal and leave you one real fine tip."

In a moment he returned. "Ain't no one back there. Two of 'em, eh? Look, don't let it bug you. They probably are just having fun, playing a joke on you."

"Well, I don't like this kind of joke. All right, I'll stay. Say, I sure feel odd."

Randy looked around wildly.

The city was gone, the restaurant, the building even.

Around him were trees, a nearby brook, some birds singing. Demo was sitting on a log nearby.

"Man, what have you done to me? What is going on here. I don't like this. No sir, I don't like this at all!"

"Randy! Randy, what in the world are you doing here? Cronus must have brought you too. Oh, boy! What a mess."

"This . . . ." Randy hesitated.

"This th' place you were talking about. Look, I'm sorry. I thought you were putting me on! I wonder why'd he bring me here? How'm I gonna get back. Who is this Cronus? You tell him, I want to see him, and right now. He can't push me around this way!"

"Just calm down, and for goodness sake, don't talk like that! It's just an accident, just some kind of accident. I'm sure he'll send you back. Well, I'm kind of sure . . . ."

He wasn't.

Randy languished. Rural atmosphere and bucolic settings were great TV fare. Who wants to actually live such a life! No way!

Demo attempted to teach him hunting.

Randy proved that, with considerable effort and practice, he would never be a hunter. The trees chosen as targets survived unmarked. Arrows vanished into unlikely places.

Chariots in lieu of cars did not sell to well. First, Randy was scared of horses. Second, he couldn't tell his gee from his haw. Third, he wasn't interested.

However, one aspect of Demo's world did indeed interest Randy.

At the evening meal Theresa chanced by, was introduced, and Randy's eyes lit up. Rural atmosphere, bucolic settings - in the right company they could be tolerable.

He started by telling Theresa of all the wonders of the 20th century. She suggested he drink less wine.

He explained to her the pleasures of flying. She gently suggested he learn to drive a chariot.

He told her of the convenience of food dispensing machines. She explained to him how gardens could be grown.

They fascinated each other.

Cronus made known to Demo that he could now handle sending Randy back to his own time and place.

Demo explained this to Randy.

Randy looked at Theresa, who looked wide-eyed at Randy.

"No way! I'm here, and here I'll stay!"

Demo looked at them both, nonplused.

He reported the state of events to Cronus. Cronus consulted with Zeus.

"Ridiculous," Zeus growled. "Ship him out!"

"Absolutely not!" Hera cried. "It's very romantic. Let him stay."

Being a wise husband, Zeus recanted.

Should you have read of the mysterious disappearance of Randy Bocksteil, and wondered what happened, you now have the details.

Randy became a mediocre farmer. He learned the rudiments of hunting, of skinning and quartering deer.

He learned, alas, how to make the potent wine of the region.

When newcomers visit the village, and Randy has sampled his own wine, he explains to them the wonders of the 20th century.

They suggest he drink less wine.

It was said of Dionysius that, if he did not steal it, he would do without it.

It was said of Dionysius that, if he did not kill, he would call the day a waste.

And so it was.

Dionysius came with a band of pirates from a peninsula lying far to the west. He came at night, landing on the shores of Greece in the early dawn of day. He killed a soldier guarding that shore.

Dionysius killed without hatred, killed quickly. Some joyed in toying with their victims, inflicting pain. They wished to stretch out the victory. They reveled in the growing fear felt by their opponent. Watching in glee as their opponent realized his impending fate and became increasingly desperate, they delayed the inevitable. Then, when the game began to wear, they cruelly and slowly mutilated their prey. Eventually, tiring of the game, they dispatched the helpless victim.

Dionysius' pirate companions were of such nature. He despised them, traveled with them only for his own ends.

Once they had made shore, dispatched the guard, he left them to their own devices. He began a sojourn to the mountains. To the mountains where lived Demo.

Demo pursued the deer in the foothills. They had migrated down from the mountains during the night. He found their spoor beside a clear branch whose cold waters they had come to drink.

Demo followed the trail from the branch deeper into the green copses. The deer were cautious, kept moving. He pursued them as they drifted toward the distant seaside. At times the wind shifted, and they caught his scent. They scurried quickly into the deeper forest.

He moved carefully from tree trunk to tree trunk, keeping the obscuring bushes between himself and the herd. Finally the distance was right, and he drew his bow.

Even as the arrow flew the deer began to bolt.

Too late for the buck he had chosen! It fell to the ground with a shudder as the arrow entered its heart. He moved forward quickly to bleed the carcass.

Only then did he see the cause for the deers' alarm!

Dionysius stepped from the shadow of a tree trunk, sword in hand.

"Good shooting. Don't reach for another arrow. I believe I shall take that buck. Be so kind as to carve it for me. And I would not try to use knife against sword. At least, not until the buck has been carved. Then you may try what you like. Lay down the bow!"

Reluctantly Demo unstrung his bow, placed it on the ground.

I deserve to lose that buck. To have failed to watch, listen carefully! He stalked angrily to the deer, began cleaning the meat.

While cutting he watched the robber with careful eyes. If the fellow dropped his guard! Forlorn hope. It did not happen. Then he noticed something new.

The birds on the shoreward side became suddenly noisy, then broke into flight. Their flight was followed only by silence.

Something, or someone, was approaching!

He went on with his task, while his eyes searched feverishly to see who approached.

She stepped into view at the edge of the small clearing. Smiling she approached.

"Demo, I was told you hunted here. Ah, what a fine buck! You never miss, do you?"

"Theresa, go home! Quickly!"

He stood erect, stepped between her and the swordsman.

The latter smiled, swished his sword through the air in melodramatic gesture. "Not so quickly, my lady. We haven't yet been properly introduced. Boy, where are your manners?"

Theresa shrank back, took a deep breath, turned toward the forest.

"You run, the boy dies!" Dionysius' voice was gruff, angry.

Slowly she turned back, eyes wide with fear as she glanced at Demo.

"Theresa, run! Now!"

She obeyed!

"Boy, you call for your own death!" Dionysius growled angrily.

Dashing into the forest, she ran with all possible speed toward the village. In the fields at the village's edge she saw her father with other farmers.

"Demo! He's in danger. A swordsman has him prisoner."

They gathered their tools, and her father his longbow. "Show us!" her father commanded, grim-faced.

They arrived in time to see Demo toss the buck's haunch at Dionysius. He fell back to ward it off, even as his sword was impaled by the meat.

Demo lunged forward, wrestled with Dionysius before the latter could free his sword. His own knife fell to ground.

Suddenly Dionysius released the sword, dove to the ground and seized the fallen knife.

He smiled as he stepped toward Demo.

Only then did he note the ring of farmers at the forest's edge. And most of all he noted the longbow, drawn, in the hands of Theresa's father.

Dionysius, stopped, bowed. "Here, boy, you'll need this to finish cutting the meat."

He extended the knife, hilt first.

Demo took it, cautiously, backed off.

The farmers quickly tied their captive, led him back to the village. A messenger was dispatched, and soldiers came quickly. Dionysius sojourn had ended

18. The Fates

"Now, my boy," Zeus began with a friendly smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Now, you see, I have this problem. Nothing to tumble Olympus, of course. Still, a problem. And you are going to have the privilege of resolving it. It may well be your claim to fame. No, just joking! It's really minor." He glanced around, lowered his voice.

"My boy, it involves women. Now, I'm not a misogynist - eh, the dictionary is on that stand over there. In spite of being . . ." He halted, glanced carefully around once more. "In spite of being married to Hera, I do love and respect beautiful women."

"However, I am Zeus! I am master of the heavens, of earth - and if Pluto would fight fair, of even the nether world! And in spite of that these three - Women! - are flaunting their power as though I were impotent. Powerless!"

The clouds were forming one on top of another over Olympus. Suddenly Hera entered, and angry look on her face. "Not over my flower bed. You've already washed away two of them. Stop it! Right now!"

Zeus blinked. "Yes, of course, my dear. Merely explaining a few things to the boy here." He took a deep breath, let it out slowly while watching the clouds with anxious eye. They slowly began to dissipate. Zeus smiled a wan smile.

"Lovely woman. A little impetuous at times. Loves that garden."

"Let me see. We were talking about this little task. Well, what I'd really like for you to do is to bring me some items. It's kind of a game, really. Yes, a game. A scavenger hunt!"

"And you, my boy, you will undoubtedly be successful. Three items. Simple little items. Nothing controversial. No indeed. Wouldn't think of it."

"Have you ever been on a scavenger hunt?"

"No. No, sir. Never."

"Really great fun. I recall when I and this bevy of Naiads . . . Well, no need to trouble your mind over that . . ." Zeus was silent for a moment, a slight smile on his lips as he reminisced.

"On a scavenger hunt you go out and locate the items you have been told to bring back. And you bring them back, and you win. That simple. So be on your way, now. Don't slam the door."

"Yes, sir. I mean, no sir. The items, sir?"

"Oh, of course. A pair of scissors. I told you, nothing rare or controversial. Thread. Yes, plain, ordinary old thread. And a spinning wheel. A little large and awkward. But, I assure you, not too much so for a youth of strength and stamina. Three items. I think you'll enjoy this scavenger hunt. I really do."