Nightrise

all. The man was talking gibberish. But Jamie understood exactly what he meant. Somehow, his brain had tuned itself into a foreign language that he had learned instantly. Impossible, of course. But that was how it was.
    "Good day to you, my friend!" the man had said. He had called out the greeting in a trembling, high-pitched voice. He stopped to catch his breath, then went on, the words instantly translating themselves.
    "A living child among so many dead! That's very strange. Who are you, my boy? What are you doing here?"
    Jamie hesitated, wondering if he could respond. "My name is Jamie," he replied, but although they were the words he thought, they weren't the ones that came out of his lips. Without even trying, he was speaking the man's language. He paused, then went on. "I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't even know where I am. Can you help me?"
    "Of course I can help you." The man laughed briefly. It was a dry, unpleasant sound. "But as to where you are, there is nothing left here, so why should it even have a name? And if it did have a name, it would soon be forgotten, like everywhere else. There are no countries now. No cities, no towns. All is but ashes." He ran an eye over Jamie and frowned. "Where have you come from?" he asked.
    "I'm American," Jamie said. "From Nevada."
    "America? Nevada? I don't know these places." Now the man was suspicious. "How did you arrive here?"
    "I don't know." Jamie shook his head. "I didn't mean to come here. It just happened."
    "As if by magic?"
    "Well…yes." Jamie wasn't sure that the old man was joking.
    "Perhaps it was magic!" The old man's hand tightened on the walking stick. "Perhaps you were brought here by the Old Ones. They might have wanted you, although I can't think why." He cocked his head to one side. "Do you serve the Old Ones?" he asked.

    Jamie shook his head. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you're talking about."
    'You're not a servant of the Old Ones?"
    "No! I'm not anybody's servant!"
    "It is fortunate, then, that I came this way. It would seem that I've arrived just in time."
    "To do what?" Jamie was suddenly uneasy.
    "To kill you."
    The old man lifted his walking stick and Jamie almost laughed out loud. The idea that this sixty-year-old could even hurt him was ridiculous. He half raised a hand to defend himself, then stepped back in horror, his eyes widening as the impossible happened in front of his eyes. The old man seemed to have unpeeled himself, the flesh falling away like pieces of discarded clothing. Another creature, some sort of giant insect, exploded out of him, ugly black scales taking the place of skin. Two huge claws, with pincers snapping open and shut, ripped through his sides and stretched out where his arms had just been. His eyes had turned yellow. His head and legs were still human but now they were grafted onto the body of a scorpion and as Jamie fell back, a huge tail rose over its shoulders with a massive stinger pointing down at him from above. The walking stick had changed too. Now it was a spear of old steel, like something recovered from a shipwreck. The end was twisted and bloodstained, shaped like a letter Y with not one point but two.
    The man-scorpion screamed at him and Jamie saw that its teeth had become silver needles and its mouth was full of blood. The yellow eyes were wide and furious. He heard something shudder through the air and fell backjust as the steel rod, held in one of the claws, slashed through the air an inch from his face.
    If it had made contact, it would have smashed his skull — or taken his head clean off his shoulders. He lost his balance and almost fell, then leaped back as the creature's tail lashed out at him, white poison splattering the ground. A few tiny drops of the stuff sprayed onto his hand and he cried out. It was like acid. He could feel it burning through his skin. The tail lashed again and this time Jamie threw himself onto the ground, afraid of being burned or blinded. The creature laughed and Jamie knew that he had no chance at all, that he really was going to die right now and that he would never even find out what had happened, how he had arrived here to begin with.
    The thing lumbered forward, its head twisting from side to side, its face distorted with anger and hatred, holding the two-pronged spear high up above it. Jamie dragged himself backward, looking for anything, a weapon he could use to defend himself. There was a soldier lying beside the lane, still clutching a sword