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I squeezed my eyes shut. I touched each of the men with my magic, holding onto their auras, and thought of Silver Springs. Maybe I could guide the interdimensional tentacle monster to Earth and not another bubble dimension. My lungs burned with the need to breathe, but the crush of the monster wouldn’t let my chest rise.
The tentacle squeezed harder, then let go or maybe vanished. And yet again, I dropped to the ground, pain shooting along my back. I was too fucking old for this shit.
Groaning, I sat up. Jag, Elliot, and Ram climbed to their feet while Moe stood on a circle of burnt grass with Jase, who was wingless again. The sky was streaked with the gold of dawn, and birds tweeted in the trees nearby.
I sighed in relief. We were back where we started.
“Holy shit. I know these woods,” Jase said. “Look, I’ll make a good NPC and dash off. Consider my part of your quest complete.” He leaned in to give Moe a bro hug. “Look me up when you finish here and we can hang.”
As Jase ran off, Moe waved wildly. “I’ll call you later to play Elder Scrolls!” He spun back to the rest of us, and his expression dropped faster than the stars in the last world. “Did… did we save everyone? What if we missed someone? What if endangered fish lived in the water? Or whales!”
I didn’t know if anything else had been alive in the Van Gogh world. Bubble dimensions could be any size from microscopic to lightyears across. While the dock had hit the horizon, I had no idea how far the water had stretched.
It wouldn’t be the first time I had gotten others killed. I was used to carrying that remorse, but Jag, Elliot, and Moe shouldn’t have to. I should have done the right thing and ditched them before they got hurt.
It was too late for that, but I could protect them in one way: I lied. “We couldn’t have missed anyone. Bubble dimensions are as small as a raccoon’s butthole at full expansion.” I hoped the dumb line would distract them and cheer them up.
Ram shot me a what-the-fuck look. Moe glanced around as though avoiding eye contact, and Jag snickered.
Elliot raised a brow. “I mean, we couldn’t fit in a dimension the size of a raccoon’s butt. I read that two raccoons could fit in a human’s ass, though I’m not sure why they would want to.”
I laughed while Ram dropped his face into his hands. Apparently, any silliness or playfulness he was rediscovering did not extend to conversations of raccoons and anuses.
“Y’all need better hobbies,” Jag said. “May I suggest chainsaw juggling?”
I stood and stretched my back. “What’s with you and chainsaws?”
“I’ve thought a lot about what to do if a raptor or a horde of zombies burst into a room. After many years of tactical planning, I’ve concluded that chainsaws are the answer. Or flamethrowers, but they don’t let you buy those at Home Depot.”
Moe rubbed his arms. “If no one else was there, who made the dock or the jukebox or the carpet or all the other stuff in ’70s porno land?”
Ram dropped his hand from his face. “They were created by the wild magic between the worlds. It shapes itself according to the first consciousness it meets.”
That was true at least, but I was going to add another lie. “No one lives in bubble dimensions unless they fall through a portal.”
Moe sighed in relief. “We didn’t hurt anyone!”
Jag patted Moe’s shoulder. “So whose consciousness was responsible for the orange orgy room? Moe? I know you like orange.”
“It is a tasty color,” he admitted. “And I do like fluffy carpets.”
“Who was thinking of ’70s pornos?” Jag said. “Elliot?”
The other man gaped. “What? No!”
As they bantered, Ram stepped closer to me. Just a day ago, I would have shoved him away. Now, I didn’t mind his presence.
He dropped his voice low. “You know that bubble dimensions can be any size and often have life forms of their own.”
“We’re used to hurting others. Those three don’t need the burden of it,” I whispered.
“Adding lies to a relationship isn’t a good idea,” Ram said.
I scoffed. “Who are you to criticize? All we did was lie to each other for the last five years of our relationship.”
“That’s why I know it’s a bad idea,” he said, regret creeping into his voice like a mouse through a wall.
A heaviness settled in my chest like an overweight raccoon.
