Digimon: Six Corners
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Chapter 2: “The Necropolis”
With the terror of the night long behind them, the six displaced children and their strange new friends set out to find civilisation. These friends, who claimed to be organisms known as, ‘Digimon,’ introduced themselves in order and as thus; the blue beetle was called Ko-Kabuterimon, the cream-furred puppy was Labramon, the violet fungus was Mushroomon, the white seal cub was Gomamon, the red lion cub was Coronamon and the talking candle, the youngest of them all, was appropriately called Candlemon.
The forest seemed to stretch on forever, but at least with the return of the sunlight it did not feel quite so oppressive. The travellers heard the occasional twitter of a bird or the scuffling of a small animal but nothing nearly as nightmarish as the dæmon that had chased them before. Upon questioning, none of the Digimon could rightly say what it had been and Russell was content to call it the, ‘Barghest,’ which was as good a name as any. A little while later, Tu Shan asked about the purpose of the strange wristwatches they had received upon their arrival in this Digital World.
“I don’t know what a wristwatch is,” replied Labramon, “but those are Digivices, they’re like status symbols for your kind, but each set is a little different.”
“Our kind?” asked Cassie. “Then other humans have been here?”
“So we’ve been told,” Ko-Kabuterimon answered, “but we’ve never seen one for ourselves.”
“The real question is, how do we get home?” Libby put in. “I can think of half a dozen things I woulda packed if I knew I was goin’ on a trek.”
“Only half a dozen?” asked Thora. “Does that include a good detergent? I mean, look at my skirt! If I ever get these stains out it’ll be a miracle!” She swore, the intention being that she do so in Norwegian but whatever enchantment allowed the children to understand each other made it clear what she meant and they all fell into an awkward silence for a bit.
“Libby’s right, though,” said Cassie eventually. “We don’t have many supplies on us.” This was particularly true for her, since the only clothes she wore aside from her goggles and swimsuit was the cowgirl’s jacket.
“Could’ve brought food,” Jomo reminisced. “I’m already missing my mum’s home cooking.” The other children sighed in agreement.
“Well, we Digimon are good at foraging,” said Coronamon. “Can’t promise it’ll be to your tastes but we can still try, right?”
“Forget that!” Mushroomon scoffed. “The nearest village can’t be too far. They’ll have real food, and maybe these clowns can get a bath. They’re getting a bit ripe, is all I’m saying.” He would have gone on if Russell had not planted his fist firmly into the little agaric’s cap. Still, the chance to cleanse themselves was a very inviting prospect.
“I know the village you mean,” Labramon nodded, “but we must be wary, they don’t take kindly to strangers and there may be thieves about.”
XXX
When the travellers finally emerged from the forest, they stood atop a grassy slope and just a short distance away was a village of thatched houses. It did not look like the hive of scum and villainy that Labramon warned them about. From below they could smell cooking, which was enough to send Jomo and Coronamon racing happily ahead of the rest. Cassie called after him but her cries fell on deaf ears. He was too far off already.
“He won’t get far,” Tu Shan assured the Greek girl. As they approached the little haven, they saw all kinds of strange creatures inhabiting it, walking around the cottages and going about their daily business. At the sight of the humans, however, all of them became alert. Those with fur arched their shoulders and all of them grasped work tools like the angry mob from an old Frankenstein film. Jomo and Coronamon skidded to a halt inches from getting pitchforks to their guts.
“Easy now, ya’ll!” Libby said quickly, joining the African boy. “Forgive my buddy here, he’s just a li’l overzealous.” Russell glared at the villagers icily.
“You got a problem?” he demanded.
“Behave yourself,” Labramon scolded.
“Labramon,” a scratchy voice snarled. Its owner was a bipedal rabbit with black markings around his eyes.
“Gazimon,” the puppy greeted, lowering his head respectfully. The rabbit, a highly regarded member of the community, returned the gesture begrudgingly.
“Why did you bring these things here?” he asked sternly. “You know the stories. Every time humans have appeared in the Digital World they’ve brought nothing but trouble with them. He tapped the butt of his weapon, a muck-rake, against the soil in a challenging way.
“Maybe we should be movin’ on,” Libby muttered to Cassie.
“My sentiments exactly,” Gazimon snapped. “We don’t want you or your kind ‘round here.”
“That does it!” Mushroomon spat. He barrelled into the rabbit and knocked him to the ground. With one hand around Gazimon’s neck and the other balled into a fist, he went on, “You wanna start something, Long Ears? Well?!”
“Mushroomon, that’s enough,” Coronamon pleaded.
“He’s right,” Gomamon nodded. “We’ll find somewhere more hospitable.”
“He’s not worth losing your temper over,” Ko-Kabuterimon put in. Together, the three of them attempted to gently prise their short-tempered friend off of Gazimon but he shrugged them off.
“Nuh-uh!” he retorted. “If this flea-bitten fur-ball wants a fight when we ain’t done squat, then by fungus I’ll give him a fight!” The tumultuous toadstool may very well have torn Gazimon apart if Ko-Kabuterimon had not lifted him up in his large fore-hands. Gazimon stood up and dusted himself off. To his credit, he had not cried out or recoiled in the face of opposition. He was hard. The protector of the village. He had to appear strong to his people no matter what. He considered taking a swipe at the intruders when a wooden walking stick blocked his path. The village elder - who held the appearance of a calico-coloured cat with large, yellow eyes and strands of wiry fur at the tips of his ears – had appeared almost from nowhere.
“Stay your hand, Gazimon,” he said, lowering his stick to support himself.
“Elder Mikemon,” the guardian croaked. He wanted to justify his stance but the village leader raised his gloved paw for silence. He spoke in a way that was always calm and collected, but those glistening amber globes gave away how disappointed he was with his charge’s etiquette.
“Have you mislaid your senses, boy?” he asked with a frown. “Whether human, Digimon or something else entirely, we must always give aid to weary visitors. A good protector of the people should be able to tell lost wanderers from enemies.”
“Yes, Elder,” Gazimon mumbled, ears drooping. The public berating was a tad harsh, but nobody would question old and wise Mikemon.
“I’m going to put you down now, and you’re going to stay cool and not do anything stupid,” Ko-Kabuterimon whispered and lowered a much more docile Mushroomon to his feet. Mikemon, who had taken an interest in the humans, now turned his attention to them.
“Please, accept my apologies for my people’s rudeness,” he said with a quick bow. “We are – how do I put this? – a touch ignorant, but they have good cores, all of them. I hope you’ll forgive us for suspecting you of wrongdoing.”
“Only if you’ll forgive us for coming unannounced and causing all this hubbub,” Cassie smiled. “We’re not used to being out in the wild.”
“Then all is forgotten,” chuckled Mikemon. “Come, let’s get you all settled in.”
XXX
The travellers sat around a wooden table in the local inn, enjoying perhaps the most filling meal they had ever supped; the starter was a swirl of coloured liquids with the thickness of custard, which their Digimon explained to be a common but much favoured fruit brew. It was unbelievably flavourful and by the time the generous main course was brought to them they were already feeling much better. The pudding was a chocolate cake swimming in beige cream, which was by far the most conventional part and still exceeded their expectations. When they were finished, the group were all quite sure they would never need to eat again and even Thora, despite earlier reservations about her weight, was so contented she began to doze off right there in her seat. A fellowship had been established between the majority of them, but Jomo noticed that Russell had opted to sit on his own in the corner with Mushroomon. The African boy stood up and walked over, placing a hand on the outsider.
“You know,” he said, “it’s much warmer over there, and the others aren’t so bad if you give them a chance. How come you’re sitting here by yourself?”
“Because I’m positive this is some kind of bad dream,” Russell replied, not even looking at him, “and the more I talk to you, the more I’m going to be stuck in it. See my point?”
“Only the one on your head, chum,” Mushroomon teased and took a swig from whatever drink was in the wooden cup he held.
“Well, if you think this is a dream,” Jomo reasoned, “why don’t you let loose and have a little fun? Heck, I’ve thought the same thing, that maybe I fell asleep playing Realm of Battlecraft. Do you play Battlecraft? My avatar’s a night elf, with this really cool lion for a pet, so maybe that’s why Coronamon looks kinda-”
“My idea of a dream,” Russell interrupted sharply, “would be to test-drive a custom-designed super-computer, not to walk around this daft, smelly world full of weird talking animals!”
“And fungi,” Mushroomon chimed in.
“And fungi,” Russell nodded, then realised he was being corrected mid-rant. “Stop helping!” Jomo plucked a pen and a scrap of paper from the pockets of his shirts and scribbled something down. He handed the scrap to Russell. There were just two words:
Ardat Lilom
“That’s my Battlecraft username,” he explained. “If we ever get back to Earth, look me up, okay? Then you’ll know this is real.” With that, he returned to the rest of the group.
“He’ll be fine,” he told them.
“Personally I think his reaction is understandable,” said Tu Sham. “I’m surprised the rest of us are taking this situation so well and not…”
“Freaking out?” Cassie suggested.
“Sounds about right,” Tu Shan nodded, “and I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’d like to learn more about this world.”
“Too bad I don’t have my materials,” Thora mused. She had been provided with a pad and pencil by the innkeeper who was presently conversing to Mikemon and she was sketching them both. “This place is great for inspiration.”
“Wish I had my camera,” Libby sighed.
“Well, until we do get home, we should try not to let ourselves get bored,” said Tu Shan. He took a sip from his drink and turned to Cassie. “Don’t you agree, Cascadia?”
“Call me Cass,” the Greek girl answered, “but yeah, you’re right. This is a whole new world for us and no great explorer ever sat on their buns while adventure was waiting.”
“Did you just say ‘buns,’ hon?” Libby cocked an eyebrow. “Where are ya livin’, in the ‘90s?” Cassie blushed and lifted her cup up to obscure her face. Soon, they were all sound asleep in the rooms Mikemon had paid for, safe in the shelter of the village, except for Russell who felt neither safe nor happy. He lay curled in a foetal position on his bed, eyes squeezed shut, rolling five words over and over in his mind: I want to go home. He drew out every detail on the canvas of his mind until the picture was so perfect it hurt. The glowing tubes on the ceiling that provided illumination, the books and magazines that littered the concrete floor, the huge abundance of gizmos, gadgets and gubbins, the hi-fi system sitting in the corner, even the funky smell that sometimes percolated the air. He even missed his irritating little sister, for goodness’ sake.
“RUSSELL!”
A high-pitched squeal bombarded him like a rocket up the rear end, catapulting him along the bed until he almost rolled off completely. He scrambled around to face who had shouted, and there before him stood a tiny girl no more than five or six years of age. Her hair, the same chestnut colour as his, was pulled into two lopsided pigtails and she wore a plaid jumper over a white shirt and shorts. Without realising what he was doing, Russell clamped his arms around Little Mo (as she was known) and hugged her as tightly as he could, to prove it was real, that he had really just been caught in a nightmare.
“Are you a mental?” the girl protested, squirming out his embrace.
“Uh, sorry,” Russell grinned sheepishly for a moment before clearing his throat and composing himself. “What do you want?” From out of nowhere, Mo revealed a large, pink storybook patterned with queerly hued rabbits. He remembered it well because it was her favourite, Pilgrim the Brave Rabbit by Wanda Wilkins.
“Will you read this to me?” she pleaded, shoving the book in his face.
“You can read yourself, can’t you?” Russell frowned.
“Yeah, but you do the voices,” the girl grinned, then quickly followed up with the biggest, saddest, most pleading expression her childish features could muster.
“The eyes don’t work on me, I’m desensitised,” her brother smirked. When she started to make a whimpering noise in the back of her throat he gave a roll of his eyes. “All right, just one, but if you tell anybody I’ll hang you up by your pigtails.”
“Okay! See you upstairs!” Mo cheered and dashed out of the bedroom with surprising speed. In her place, Russell saw an odd lump of purple-and-yellow with two black eyes peering out of it.
“What the…?” Russell blinked and shook his head. “Must be one of Little Mo’s…and when did I start talking to myself?”
“Is she always like that?” the lump asked. This time Russell’s amazement was powerful enough to send him hurtling off the edge of the bed and left him in a crumpled heap on the floor.
“What’s your problem?” asked the lump.
“What’s my problem?!” Russell demanded as he righted himself. “What’s your problem?! Oh, God, am I still dreaming? No, my sister wouldn’t be here if I was. Am I just losing my mind?”
“Probably,” the lump nodded.
“Stop helping!” Russell snapped, getting to his feet and pacing around the room in circles. He muttered to himself under his breath until he caught sight of the brown-and-black Digivice attached to his wrist. Its square, liquid screen was glowing lightly. “This can’t be real.” He quickly tore the watch off his wrist and threw it onto the bed. He pointed a finger at the purple lump while marching towards the door.
“I’m going to read to Little Mo. When I get back, you’re going to not be here.” Once he was gone, the miniscule Digimon shook its head - or rather its whole body since it was little more than a ball with a sharp point atop its head – and decided to familiarise himself with his new surroundings.
XXX
Libby awoke shortly before dawn and immediately noticed that two of their party had vanished. The short kid with the limey accent – what was his name? Russell? – and Mushroomon were both gone. She did not know them well, or she would have realised that despite her own guess, neither of them were early risers. As it was, that was the first thing that came to her mind and she was inclined to follow him as her personal routine dictated, strange new world or not. Lifting the still sleeping Candlemon in her arms, she went off for her morning hike. It would be another hour before the rest of the travellers awoke as well, starting with Cassie, who did a quick head count and shook Tu Shan awoke.
“It’s probably nothing,” she said, “but Libby and Russell have both gone, so are their partners.”
“Gone?” the Chinese boy half spoke-half yawned and slipped his glasses on over his face.
“I heard Liberty muttering to herself earlier,” said Labramon. “She went for a walk and took Candlemon, but Russell and Mushroomon were still here when I went to sleep and had left by the time I woke up.”
“Can’t you guys keep it down?” Thora mumbled. “It’s too early.” She cuddled Gomamon closer, using the seal cub as a pillow, but the noise around him had already roused Jomo. Once the situation was quickly explained to him, it was decided they would go out in search of their missing companions, led by Labramon who claimed to possess, “the best sense of smell in the entire Digital World.” Unfortunately, no matter how true this claim was, he could only detect two of the four scents, which took them all just past the edge of the woods. There was a lake there, and next to it was a large, flat boulder where Liberty now sat as Candlemon carefully re-braided her hair.
“Howdy!” the cowgirl greeted when she saw them. “Can we help ya’ll?”
“We’ve got a special on perms today,” Candlemon added jovially, “but between you and me, I do a mean pompadour. How about it?”
“I’ll let you know when I’ve got the follicles for it,” replied Jomo, pointing to his own closely shaven barnet. The other children asked if either of them had seen their missing friends but of course, they had not. Labramon’s ears went limp, displaying the shame he felt for not finding them.
Tu Shan bent down to stroke his partner’s head, assuring him, “You did your best.” The rustling of foliage put all of them immediately on alert, but at the sight of Mikemon’s diminutive form emerging from the bushes put them at ease. For a moment they had all been scared that they would be assailed by the Dread Barghest. The frizzled old cat was clutching a stack of pale lavender envelopes in his free hand and breathing heavily. The uphill climb to the woods had taken its toll on him and his exhaustion was clear enough that Ko-Kabuterimon actually took his load from him and led him over to another boulder so he could sit down.
“Thank you,” Mikemon wheezed. “I…I am sorry to bother you youngsters, I was on my way to deliver these to town…but…well, my old bones just can’t take it. When you’ve been around a few hundred years, you do tend to get a bit creaky.” He tried to laugh but instead broke into a fit of coughing.
“Easy there, easy,” said Cassie, kneeling down to rub the village elder’s back. “You should rest up, we’ll deliver these letters for you. Won’t we, guys?” The rest of the travellers nodded in agreement.
“How far’s this town?” asked Libby.
“Not far from here, for strong younglings like you anyway,” replied Mikemon. “It’s just through this part of the woods. Don’t worry, the dangerous Digimon never hunt around the edges, too much risk of exposure. Shouldn’t take you more than, say, an hour if you walk without stopping.”
“Sounds all right to me,” said Jomo.
“We’d best get started then,” Cassie agreed. She took the letters from Ko-Kabuterimon. They appeared to be made of a faint, glittering material that was most definitely not paper, and felt thin, even fragile to the touch, so she slipped them into the pocket of her borrowed jacket as carefully as possible.
XXX
They were locked in an intense staring match. Russell sat, cross-legged, on the end of his bed and the purple blob was on his pillows, gazing back at him. They were stuck like that for what felt like an age, as if they were attempting to fathom the depths of each other’s minds. In actuality, neither one was sure how to start a conversation in any way but one.
“Who are you?” Russell asked, reaching over to prod the conical point on the blob’s head.
“I’m Mushroomon!” it replied.
“Uh, no, no you’re not,” said Russell.
“Yes, I am!”
“No, you’re not.”
“I will be!”
“What do you mean ‘will be’?” Russell lifted the creature and set it down on his lap so he could get a closer look. “Mushroomon’s…well, he’s a giant mushroom, then again I say ‘giant,’ but he was more like three feet tall.”
“Hmmph!” the blob snorted. “This is a power-conserving form, Hopmon, but once I digivolve I’ll turn back into Mushroomon. Anyway, Russell? We should go back to the Digital World, the others might need us.”
“Maybe, Mush- I mean, Hopmon,” Russell sighed and looked off to one side with a look of reminiscence on his face, “but I don’t know, I don’t do well in groups.” He shook his head to break his current train of thought. “Anyway, how would we get back? I don’t even know how I got home.”
“No idea,” Hopmon admitted, “but since we’re here, maybe we can get a snack?”
XXX
Surveying the town was like stepping into a different world altogether. Crumbling buildings of greyed stone stood in neat rows ascending the edge of a grassy slope like the ruins of a once grand European castle. The moss and climbing ivy was fit to choke the life from it. There was an oppressive atmosphere that sucked away all the warmth and light even though it was still morning. The town was like a vast, leeching entity and none of the children or their partners were the least bit willing to walk amongst the broken teeth of its architecture.
“We have to keep going,” said Cassie, “and deliver Mikemon’s letters. They might be really important.”
“Cass, there’s nobody there,” said Tu Shan.
“But he’s counting on us,” Cassie insisted.
“I’d feel better if I didn’t think I was steppin’ into the O.K. Corral,” Libby sighed as the ten of them continued on, despite the apprehension in their hearts and the feeling that something was waiting for them, sitting there in the dark, scarlet eyes tracing their every move. Something was wrong with the town and they all knew it. It was calling for help.
No. No, something really was calling for help. A tiny, weak voice chirped from between two of the run-down houses. Thora, trailing behind the rest with Gomamon, was the first to hear it. She stopped and looked in the direction of the voice.
“Help me.”
“Where are you?” she asked quietly.
“Help me,” it repeated.
“Hang on, I’m coming,” she told it, walking towards the shadow-filled gap. Gomamon tilted her head curiously and then followed. The voice called again and the two passed into the ebon.
WHIP! SNAP! They were gone in a flash!
“Thora?” Jomo turned, having heard scuffling feet a short distance behind them.
“Gomamon?” Coronamon piped up.
“Guys!” Jomo called the attention of the rest. “We’ve lost Thora and Gomamon.
“Their footprints are leading that way,” Ko-Kabuterimon observed. Jomo ran into the alley before any of the others could stop him and after a moment he silence, he returned with a solemn expression on his face and Thora’s cyan-coloured Digivice in his hand. Candlemon slid over, his brass stick gliding across the grass like a boat on a calm sea, and the animated flame on top of his waxy head illuminated the darkness. Nobody. Not a sign of life, just more rubble and wreckage.
“We should split up,” said Cassie, “we’ll have a better chance of finding them if we cover more ground.”
“That’s strategically sound,” Tu Shan nodded, “but the groups may be more vulnerable.”
“Well, it works all the time for Scooby Doo, right?” Jomo attempted a joke, but his features betrayed his true emotions. He was incredibly worried. Cassie put a comforting hand on the African boy’s broad shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” she said, “we’ll find them.”
XXX
Thora and Gomamon squirmed and struggled uselessly as they were dragged along the cement floor, wrapped tightly in the coil of their captor’s long, prehensile tail. The thing had caught them by surprise and after a sickening charge through the back-alleys of the deserted town they came to a stop in the confines of a cold, wide, empty room with scant light. Thora thought it might be a warehouse with the windows blacked out. They heard the sound of metal shifting as their captor lifted something heavy, before it lifted them both up into the air with only its tail and dropped them into a pit, where they landed with a thick, ‘thump!’
“What’s the big idea?” Gomamon snarled when she recovered.
“Let us go!” Thora demanded. A low hiss emanated from the monster above them and the snorting Barghest came to mind. Its eyes, ruddy and slit like a serpent’s, glowed malevolently and its voice came out in a hoarse whisper, each syllable pronounced clearly and carefully.
“Pretty eyes,” it said, “you’ve both got pretty eyes. If you’re not quiet, I’ll suck them out of their sockets. Bite your heads off. Chew slowly. Will you be quiet?” Wide-eyed and trembling, the two captives nodded their heads and clung together.
“Good,” the voice hissed. “Sit back. Enjoy the show.”
XXX
Nearly half an hour had passed since the groups split up to investigate the town. Libby, Tu Shan, Candlemon and Labramon had opted to search the western sector to no
success.
“Another dead end!” the cowgirl groaned, throwing her hat to the ground in a fit of anger. “We’ve been here five times already, Tu, and found absolute zippo!”
“But I can smell them,” Labramon protested. “They came this way, there’s no mistaking Thora’s perfume.”
“Whoever took them is leading us around in circles,” the Chinese boy noted thoughtfully.
“Wait,” said Labramon, “I’ve picked up another one…it’s not Thora or Gomamon, but it’s with them…I don’t recognise it…it smells evil, like sickness…”
“One zombie shows up and we’re out of here,” said Candlemon. There was a low murmur of laughter amongst them. Labramon paused to sniff the air.
“What is it, boy?” asked Tu Shan.
“Look out!” the dog Digimon cried as a thick tendril flew out of nowhere and wrapped around his human partner’s waist and wrenched him into the air. Labramon barked in outrage as the assailant swooped down on leathery wings and snatched him up as well. Their friends calling for help, Libby and Candlemon gave chase, but their quarry moved like lightning and was gone in moments. Tu Shan and Labramon’s voices could be heard faintly in the distance before disappearing altogether. Libby’s nerves crackled with electricity as the air grew thick and muggy.
“Bring ‘em back ya stinkin’ son-of-a-lame coyote!” she yelled in challenge to the monster.
“Libby!” Candlemon threw himself into the air as a ball of black iron rushed towards them. He spat out a glob of bubbling wax that knocked the ball off its course and sent it ploughing into the ground. A guttural hiss echoed out and within seconds – SWOOSH! – the both of them were also seized by the monster.
With no other noises to neutralise it, Libby’s scream was heard all the way over in the eastern sector.
“It got the others!” Coronamon exclaimed. “Let’s go!”
“Wait, Coronamon,” said Ko-Kabuterimon, catching the lion cub by the wrist. “We’ve got to be careful or we’ll end up the same way.”
XXX
With Little Mo still sufficiently sedated from the adventures of Pilgrim the Brave Rabbit, Russell had found plenty of time to fiddle with his Digivice. There were only three buttons on its face, and none of them seemed to be reacting despite the glistening screen. His train of thought was disrupted when Hopmon piped up, “I know you’re busy, but would you mind untying me from this bag?”
Russell looked up at his partner, who was indeed fixed to the side of his rucksack, which was almost filled to bursting point.
“After seeing you clear out half the fridge,” he explained, “I want to guarantee those supplies will last. Comprendé?”
“I comprendé everything except, ‘comprendé’,” Hopmon responded with a compliant wriggle that was probably the equivalent of a nod. “Have you worked out how to get back yet?”
“Look, I handle circuits better than I handle people,” Russell huffed. “Just give me a second.” Truthfully he was not all that thrilled about the idea. He was still convinced there was something unreal about it even with Hopmon there with him and he had been over the moon to be home. Now he was waving his farewells to it by choice! Preposterous contradictions! Suddenly, the screen went from dim to a great flash and was filled with the image of Jomo and Coronamon struggling on a dusty patch of dry grass.
“Jomo!” Russell gasped. “Coronamon!” The image went black and then returned to the previous view, except now the two friends had disappeared with whatever was attacking them. He started desperately punching the screen and the image flashed like C.C.T.V. footage to different parts of a town straight out of an old Wild West film, only John Wayne was nowhere in sight, not even a single tumbleweed. Finally, the image showed the interior of a denim pocket and Russell remembered that Cassie had borrowed Libby’s jacket.
“Cassie!” he called into it. There was a squeak of surprise from the Digivice before the girl’s olive-skinned face filled the screen.
“Russell?” she spoke, confusion in her tone. “Where are you?”
“No time to explain,” he replied, “but listen, something just nabbed Jomo and Coronamon and nobody else is answering their Digivices.”
“Ko-Kabuterimon’s gone to scout ahead,” said Cassie. “Are you and Mushroomon safe? We’ve all been really worried.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Russell felt his grip harden, “because I’m coming back to you all.” Cassie smiled softly and was about to speak, but all that came out was a scream as she was caught and pulled forcefully away. The Digivice’s display shook violently as it was swung this way and that until it went blank with a, ‘beep!’
“Cassie!” cried Russell. “No! Now she’s gone too!” He clenched fist around the little brown wristwatch and put his knuckles against his temples, wishing he had not been so stupid and cowardly, that he stayed so he could help. What a fool he was! He pleaded to whatever higher power would listen, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I want to save them! I want to save my friends!
“TAKE ME BACK!” he cried aloud. The Digivice whistled raucously and his senses were flooded with the same overwhelming, liquid-smooth light that carried him to the foreboding forest the last time. When his sight and hearing reasserted itself, he was standing at a crossroads. In front of him was a wooden pole with two signs jutting out in different directions; ‘Rigor Mortis Road,’ and, ‘Cadaver Avenue.’
“We’re…we’re back in the Digital World,” he muttered.
“Russell!” exclaimed Mushroomon (now back in his more familiar shape). “Look!” Untying himself from the rucksack, he bent down in front of his partner and picked up a silver Digivice, spotted with dark red blood.
“It’s Cassie’s,” Russell confirmed, carefully taking it from his partner and bringing it up to eye level. He gripped it tightly as his face contorted in righteous indignation. Stuffing it into his pocket, he lifted the rucksack onto his back and headed off down Rigor Mortis Road. Even the bloody signs are evil in this place, he thought morosely.
XXX
Deep in its hideout, the monster counted and recounted its victims. Five humans. Five Digimon. Mikemon had assured it that this was all, but it could sense something was amiss. It had threatened and taunted and almost beaten its vows into the old cat that if he was lying there would be dire consequences for him and for that entire filthy little village. Presently, it stood facing a dilapidated old tele-screen hanging on the wall of its dwelling. Its cables were exposed and its display was cracked but the machine worked well enough all the same.
“You had better be sure, old one,” it hissed at Mikemon’s nervous countenance. “You wouldn’t double-cross me, would you?”
“Of course not,” Mikemon stammered, “but don’t forget your promise.”
“I always keep my promises,” the monster snarled, licking its grizzled lips. “I promised to savour it when I ate your friend, didn’t I? Took me ages to reach his feet.” It enjoyed watching Digimon squirm at the bitter memories. “Now, think about this very carefully. Dracmon told me there were six of them.”
“The last one is already dead,” Mikemon answered. “He vanished in the middle of the night, him and his partner, and their bodies were never found. I had search parties scout the deepest parts of the woods and they found no traces of either of them.”
“A shame,” the monster sighed. “I heard he was a little one, I wanted to make him my appetiser. Oh, well, I will carry out my end of our bargain when I’m done. Goodbye, old one.” He reached out and pressed a button on the keyboard dangling beneath the screen and Mikemon vanished from the tele-screen. Hissing and salivating, he rose from his room to the wide chamber where the pit was and sat completely still, listening to the voices from below. One of them was crying. Delicious.
“Ko-Kabuterimon’s still out there,” he heard one say, “and Russell promised to come back.”
“That whining little creep ran out on us,” another one responded sharply. “Him and that dumb fungus.”
“Don’t talk about them like that,” the first growled, “or you’ll have me to deal with.”
“What are ya? His girlfriend?” the second demanded. The exchange continued like this for a while, and the monster enjoyed every minute of it. Anger and despair made fine condiments. With a sweep of his tail along the cement floor, it lurched away.
XXX
They had to stop. Falling back into low spirits, Russell thought that perhaps he had packed just a little too much. The rucksack was starting to weigh down on him. In front of him, Mushroomon was sitting down as Ko-Kabuterimon, whom they found inside one of the forsaken houses in a spluttering state of anxiety. The beetle was sweating profusely and gratefully accepted a bottle of water from Russell’s generous stock of supplies.
“It…it came out of nowhere,” he panted. “I was able to get away just in time, but…but it got her…it got Cassie and the rest…tr…tried everywhere…”
“Easy, Little Boy Blue,” said Russell, patting the insect Digimon on the head just beside his prodigious horn. “If you’ve really been looking that hard there can’t be any places left for them to be, right?”
“Yeah but whoever nabbed them was smart enough to separate them from their Digivices,” Mushroomon reminded them, holding out the five wristwatches, all of which had been scattered about on the streets. “So we can’t use their tracking systems.”
“I think I can help you with,” a rough voice came from a nearby house. The trio turned in time to see a short, grey-blue Digimon with long ears. Gazimon approached them with a stern expression on his leporid features.
“What are you doing here, Flopsy?” Mushroomon scowled.
“Don’t lose your spores,” said Gazimon with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m on your side. Your friends were sent here into a trap. This has been going on for a lot longer than you think and quite frankly, I’m sick and tired of it.”
“Wait ‘til I get my hands on that lousy sack of fleas,” Russell grumbled. “No offence, Gazimon.”
“None taken,” the rabbit shrugged, picking a little bloodsucker out of his fur and popping it between his claws.
“Why should we trust you?” Ko-Kabuterimon asked though not rudely. “You hate humans.”
“I hate cowards and sneaks even more,” Gazimon replied, “and I know where they’re being kept. Besides, do you lot even have a choice?” The boy, the mushroom and the beetle looked at each other and shook their heads in unison. For all his faults, he was right. There was no alternative. “Come,” he said. “Chances are your friends are still alive. The enemy’s obsessive not to mention paranoid. He’ll know you three are still out here and he won’t do anything nasty until he’s got all of you. Now let’s go. I know where they are.”
“Lead the way,” Russell nodded. Gazimon turned on his heels and darted off down the nearest alleyway, which was so thin that they had to walk in single file with their arms tucked in. He warned them that they would be facing a lot of these and the journey would take a while but their stalker would be unable to follow them due to his size. For each second that passed, Russell felt himself growing more scared. Each new twist and turn through the labyrinth, with the stench of death on his skin and the icicles piercing his heart and mind, chipped away bit by bit at his confidence. This was madness. They were fighting a creature of pure shadow, one that feasted on fear and flesh. More than once he envisioned himself trapped in its metallic teeth. Ripping. Tearing. Dripping juice and blood.
“Russ, you’re shivering,” said Mushroomon. “What’s wrong, chum?”
“N-nothing,” Russell shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong. Gazimon, how far?”
“Just through this next one,” the rabbit replied as they squeezed through. They had reached the highest point of the hill now, where the houses grew thinner. Sticking out of the ground, half-buried from a long before earthquake, was perfectly rectangular, obsidian structure. Its upper row was lined with blacked out windows. No light could be seen inside. Just pitch darkness. Russell stood there in the doorway, staring into the gulping throat of atrocity.
“That’s his hideout,” Gazimon confirmed.
“I…I can’t,” Russell squeaked.
“You can’t?” Mushroomon put his gloved palm against his partner’s forearm. “Russ, what’s wrong? You can tell us.”
“I just can’t,” Russell shut his eyes. “I’m scared.”
“Russell?” someone called from inside. “Is that you?” It was Thora. He did not know her well, but he recognised her and for all the horror coursing through his veins it was sweet relief. He quickly ran inside, following the sound. The sunlight allowed in by the open door cast a thin strip of illumination across the floor to a grate covering a perfectly round pit, and a delicate, long-fingered hand was reaching out of it. The short boy knelt down and clasped it warmly.
“You came back,” Thora choked through her tears.
“Way to go, Russ,” Cassie joined in.
“Nice of you to crash the party, slick,” added Libby.
“I told you I would,” Russell whispered. Behind him, Gazimon instructed Mushroomon to follow the human while he and Ko-Kabuterimon stayed on sentry duty. He turned to Mushroomon, “Can we move this grate?”
“Not on our own,” Mushroomon shook his head. “It’s too heavy to lift and it’s made from Chrome-Digizoid, strongest metal in the Digital World so our offensive powers won’t work either.”
“Hmmph! I won’t be beaten by this hunk of iron,” Russell muttered, rifling around in his jacket. “First, we need some more light in here.” He retrieved a small lighter he had pinched from the kitchen cupboard at home and flicked open the top, casting the light of its flame from left to right until finding something of use. Hanging off the wall was an iron cycle that reminded him of an antique telephone. Spanning the centre were seven black squares and rimming it was a series of twenty smaller, white buttons marked in black pen.
3, 10, 106, 2, 62
54, 16, 6, 34, 18
4, 448, 17, 5, 22
13, 8, 11, 7, 50
“Oh, great,” Russell huffed. It was easy to see that they required a seven number code to open the pit but how on Earth was he meant to work it out? How many variations could there be? Too many. Or none. He had cracked codes like this when mucking about with widgets and programmes in his after-school I.C.T. classes. A thunderous roar echoed outside.
“He’s coming!” Ko-Kabuterimon called over. “We’ll hold him off for as long as we can!”
“Yeah, that makes me feel better,” Russell muttered as he tried to puzzle out the enigma set in front of him.
“Going to chop you up and eat you,” hissed the monster. “Make prime cuts out of you.”
“Prime!” Russell gasped. “That’s it! Thanks, Mr Big-Bad-and-Oogly.”
“I don’t get it!” Mushroomon had to yell over the sounds of the fight.
“There are seven spaces,” Russell explained, concentrating too hard to care if his partner could hear him or not, “and seven prime numbers on the pad. Numbers that can only be divided by 1 or by themselves. 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 19.” They heard a heavy scraping noise as the grate swung away. Cassie was the first to leap out, since she was perched on Tu Shan’s shoulders, who in turn was supported by Jomo and Libby. Mushroomon raced to join Gazimon and Ko-Kabuterimon while Russell aided his fellow children and their Digimon partners up to the surface. There was a loud boom and a hellish bellow and the three defenders were slung across the room, landing in a pile in front of the youngsters.
“We have to get out of here,” Cassie clenched her fists. “Candlemon, Coronamon, set a blaze to stall him.”
“You…you humans go on,” Gazimon grunted as he staggered to his feet. “There’s…something I have to…” Candlemon puffed out his cheeks and spat a glob of molten paraffin and Coronamon followed up with a stream of fire. The liquid caught light and the flames danced over the monster’s misshapen form, a grotesque mish-mash of dark blue fur and heavy steel. Mushroomon revealed an explosive toadstool from a personal pocket of sub-space and chucked it into the nearest wall, blowing a gaping hole in the stone. While their enemy thrashed and roared behind the wall of heat, the group raced out to freedom. After spending as long as they did in the darkness of the lair, the sunlight washing over them, despite its surreal hues, was a welcome change.
“Where’s Gazimon?” asked Cassie once they had stopped, for the rabbit was nowhere in sight.
“You don’t think he’s still inside?” Thora put her hand over her mouth in horror as the flames inside spewed out of the door and the hole in the wall. The windows shattered and great columns of crimson burst up through the roof.
“Tarnation! How strong is that paraffin?!” Libby cried.
“I, uh, put a few extra coats down while we were running,” Candlemon admitted timidly. “To make sure.”
“Look!” Jomo was pointing towards the building. They could see a small shape emerging from the burning ruins. Gazimon was stumbling towards them, dragging a large burlap sack behind him. Tu Shan, Labramon, Thora and Gomamon went to his aid but before they could question the nature of his prize, the entire side of the stone building exploded outwards, the shockwaves tossing the travellers in every direction. The silhouette of their enemy appeared in the flames as it emerged slowly, smoke rising from its scorched fur and reddened shell. The whipping cables protruding from the end of its tail fizzled.
“Who is that?” asked Russell.
“His name is Dex-Dorugamon,” replied Gazimon, followed by a fit of coughing, “and I think we’ve made him mad.”
“That wasn’t nice. I was going to eat you one at a time,” their enemy snarled. “Let you appreciate your last hours, but now I’ll just have to slaughter all of you.” It swung its heavy tail towards the group, the cables flying out like thin, electrical tentacles. The children dove to one side and the Digimon to the other to avoid it.
“That all you got?” Mushroomon sneered. “I’ve met blind guys with better aim!” He released a yelp as Labramon shoved him out of the path of an oncoming ball of black iron from deep within Dex-Dorugamon’s gullet. The projectile flew past with a screech and impacted in the grass with enough destructive force to open up a crater.
“Next time,” the dog Digimon warned, “don’t provoke the big, scary-looking one, all right? Next time I might not save your carcass from getting grilled.” Coronamon and Candlemon bombarded the beast with fireballs, eliciting a cry of pain and burning its body further, Gomamon, Ko-Kabuterimon and Gazimon struck out with their long claws, Labramon unleashed a thunderous bark that caused the air around them to ripple violently and Mushroomon tossed a volley of explosive toadstools. Dex-Dorugamon howled and began to beat its wings at great speed, invoking a small but powerful whirlwind that floored its opponents. It turned on the humans and hastened in their direction, only to fall over. They could all see why. The organic components of its body were cut deeply where the physical attacks had landed, exposing a mass of circuits and wires over what looked like a black-and-green computer grid. Globs of its metal armour were dripping off and landing in the grass, blackening the greenery with a pained, constant hiss.
“Quick, before he recovers!” Coronamon yelled. Dex-Dorugamon lifted his head, which was now too heavy for his damaged body to support. The travellers had managed to deal him a terrible blow and his systems were starting to jam, but he was able to open his mouth and launch another iron ball. The children scattered, but it grazed Russell’s shoulder and left a severe burn on the backs of Cassie’s legs. Seeing their human masters in peril, the Digimon closed in for the killing blows; Ko-Kabuterimon’s scarf took on a glistening, rubbery sheen and extended like extra arms, binding Dex-Dorugamon. Coronamon and Candlemon unleashed streams of fire from their mouths while Mushroomon and Labramon battered him with their respective battle-powers. Finally, Gomamon and Gazimon brought down their knife-keen claws.
“No,” Dex-Dorugamon slurred as he fell onto his side, “not…finished…!” Only the ghost of his last defiant groan remained as his body cracked and then shattered like glass into a shower of coloured particles, which spiralled up and away into the air, and something else went with it. It was just barely visible, a moving form beneath a curtain, a black number, ‘8,’ or a double-helix. None of them could follow it for long because it was gone as soon as it had appeared, however the same shape had been scarred into the ground where the monster had lain just seconds before.
“What happened to him?” asked Cassie.
“His data’s being sent back to start all over again,” Ko-Kabuterimon explained. “Let’s hope this time he’ll be reconfigured as someone good.” This meant more questions than answers to the children but they were so tired, sweaty and dirty from their ordeal that they chose not to pursue their line of inquiry any further. All they wanted was to recuperate.
XXX
“I suppose I owe you an explanation.”
They had returned to the village to find all the inhabitants thoroughly surprised. Apparently, Mikemon was not the only one catering to Dex-Dorugamon’s wishes with oblivious sacrifices. The fire crackled in the hearth as Mikemon’s ebony-furred mate cradled a brilliantly coloured egg in her paws, which had been amongst many others Gazimon rescued from the lair of the demon. The rabbit was outside, handing out more of the, ‘Digi-Eggs,’ to their weeping parents.
“Bloody right you do!” Russell spat. “Because of you, we were almost killed!”
“Russell, please,” Cassie placed a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to restrain him. “Chill out.”
“Oh, I’m sorry!” the short boy wheeled on her with his arms spread for emphasis. “I didn’t realise what this little sneak did to us was totally excusable!”
“For once I agree with him,” said Libby. “What’s the deal, Mikemon?” The old cat sighed and rubbed his temples before requesting his mate to leave the room with the egg so they could speak in private. As an understanding female who recognised when the ‘mon she shared her life with needed his space, she agreed and took her egg with her, humming softly to it all the way.
“Dex-Dorugamon was not always the hideous brute you all saw,” said the village elder after a pause to steel his nerves. “You see, we once lived in that town, under the protection of Dorugamon, a courageous young Digimon who defeated any who threatened us. Then, one day, it all went wrong. Something took hold of him, got inside him, and Dorugamon was taken from us. With nobody to stop him, the thing wearing his face rampaged through the town and deleted many of our people.
“We few survivors were able to flee and establish our village, but Dex-Dorugamon found us in almost no time at all. He came in the night, invaded our hidden rookery and took the entire clutch of Digi-Eggs, holding them to ransom. If we sent him six human children and their Digimon companions, he would bring them back to us.”
“And you believed him?” Tu Shan asked with a cocked brow.
“Honestly? No,” Mikemon replied, ears drooping sadly, “but what choice did we have? My people are not warriors, young one, and I’m just a useless old feline.” Russell wanted to tell him he was right but he could see that the calico cat was suffering enough already.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me, or any of us,” said Mikemon, “but please understand that in our core of cores, we thought we had a chance to save our children.”
“You didn’t have a choice, Mikemon,” said Cassie, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “All’s forgiven.”
“I know it’s much to ask of you,” Mikemon croaked, putting his paw on her hand, “but please, I’m sure that whatever stole our Dorugamon has corrupted others as well. You must save them.” Cassie felt all their eyes on her as the words sunk in. It seemed to click. The reason they had been brought to this strange land. Was it to cure it of sickness? To erase the evil? She was not sure, but if she could stop the agony and the hurting, she would do so to the best of her abilities. She just prayed that the others agreed.
