The Ant King: A California Fairy Tale | Page 6

said Corpse.
* * *
The surging river slowed as it widened, they glided past massive black cliffs, and at last the rubber boat coasted up to a dock, where several stout men in purple fedoras helped Monique and Corpse onto dry land.
The Ant King bowed, and his antennae bobbed. "Well, this is an unexpected pleasure," he said.
"Cool lair," said Corpse.
"Why thank you," said the Ant King. "You both look soaked. We have robes and changing rooms right over here. Care for an espresso?"
"Sure," said Monique.
"Got hot chocolate?" said Corpse.
"Why yes we do," said the Ant King.
* * *
"Okay, there's a little yellow bird here," Stan said.
"You still got the rod?" said Vampire over the pink cell phone.
Stan looked down at the crook of his arm, where he was uncomfortably carrying a rod, an axe, a loaf of bread and a key. He was still in his bathing suit, dripping wet, and exhausted from wandering the tunnels for hours. The blue glow of his magic sword dimly illuminated the room, including a small yellow bird, which watched him suspiciously.
"Put the rod down," said Vampire. Stan let it slide out from the crook of his arm and clatter to the ground.
"Now catch the bird," Vampire said.
With the pink cell phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder, and his collection of found objects in the crook of his sword arm, Stan edged towards the bird. It looked at him dubiously, and hopped away.
"I can't seem to get ahold of it," Stan said.
"All right, forget the bird. It's only extra points anyway."
"Extra points!" shouted Stan. "I'm not trying to get extra points, I'm trying to get Sheila!"
"OK, OK, keep your hat on," said Vampire. "Get the rod again and go north."
* * *
While Stan wandered a maze of twisty little passages, leaving found objects and pieces of bread according to Vampire's instructions, in order to differentiate the rooms from one another and thus navigate the maze, and Corpse and Monique changed into fuzzy purple terry-cloth bathrobes, and Sheila watched the Comedy Channel and felt inexplicably restless, the Ant King logged onto a network and sent a message, which appeared in the corner of Vampire's screen.
Think you're pretty smart, huh? it said.
"OK," said Stan, "uh, I'm in the room with the axe again."
"Hold on," said Vampire. "Message." He did some tracking to find out where the message came from, but no luck: he found a circular trail of impossible addresses.
I know I'm pretty smart, he typed back at it.
Not as smart as you think, the Ant King typed back at him. You think I would leave sendmail running on an open port on my real proxy server? As if I didn't know about the security hole in that baby.
"OK, I think I see the way out here," said Stan. "This is the room with the two pieces of bread -- have I gone east from here?"
"Hold on a sec," muttered Vampire.
"I don't think I have," said Stan.
Okay, I'm stumped, typed Vampire. If that's not your real proxy server, what is it?
It's my Palm Pilot, the Ant King typed back. With a few tweaks to the OS. And you're hogging a lot of memory on it, so I'd appreciate it if you logged off, Vampy.
Hey, hold on, Vampire typed. Is this Ant-Agonist?
Used to be. Not any more, typed the Ant King.
"Hey, I'm out!" Stan said. "It's opening up into a large cavern. Wow, this is great, Vampire!"
No shit! typed Vampire. How have you been, man?
I've been great, but I can't say the same for you, typed the Ant King. You are rusty as hell. What are you doing selling gumballs for a living anyway?
"Oh, shit," said Stan. "Oh, shit!"
"What?" said Vampire curtly, typing furiously in the chat window.
"Vampire, it's the bridge. It's the Dread Bridge! I always die at the Dread Bridge."
"I told you, man," Vampire said, absently, as he chatted with the Ant King. "You've just gotta run fast enough."
* * *
Cell phone in one hand, sword in the other, Stan began to run. His bare feet slapped against the planks of the Dread Bridge; the bridge swung crazily over the chasm, and he fought for balance. As he neared the middle he threw the sword ahead of him, and it clattered onto the ground beyond the bridge. He stuffed the cell phone into the waistband of his bathing suit, and ran on. Suddenly he heard a snap behind him, and he jumped. The bridge broke beneath his weight, and swung away. Stan flew through the air, but not nearly far enough; he fell, and barely managed to grab the planks of the bridge beneath him. He hung on as the ropes strained; he thought they were going to break, and he screamed in terror. But the ropes held. Stan swung over the dark canyon,