White Fire and Tennis Shoes

by Alan Moore

A sudden vibration disturbed Chuk-hru's calm. The dark of the tunnel into which the hexapod had nestled himself was splintered by an eruption of daylight as his antennae were flooded with the stench of a massive furry mammal. Instantly his six legs reacted, writhing in midair as if to get a head start on his flight from the invisible enemy that had awakened him. He hit the ground and scurried to shelter amid the piles of plastic and metal that he and his people inhabited. Peering out from behind a blade of grass, his antennae twitched in vexation at the dog that had now cast aside his former home and was now walking away across the hills, sniffing for food.

"Did you see that?" said a voice next to him; it was Nu-hgwy, one of his many cousins that inhabited the area.

"See it? I was in it!" Chuk-hru replied, vexed, "Why can't those dirty things leave us alone? That was the freshest cardboard I've tasted in a long time!"

Nu-hgwy could sense the anger in his cousin; too irrational for reasoning with, at this point, he thought. He decided to offer some consolation.

"It doesn't matter, Chuk-hru, the elders say that the rains will come soon and wash it all away." Indeed, the rains had come often lately, and rumors of floods had come with them.

"And then we will starve!" replied Chuk-hru, angrily, as if the statement somehow dismissed whatever point his cousin meant to make. There had not been a flood for many generations, and in many ways it was just a word to which some vague sense of dread was attached; somehow, though, it had always been associated with starvation.

Nu-hgwy brightened; "Well, if you want revenge, I heard Uhje-uhje talking about a place by the river where there's a carcass--a home for a home!" Chuk-hru seemed to perk up, if only slightly.

"Ok, let's go!" and they scurried off together.

*

It had begun raining before the two reached the river, and by the time they arrived it was pouring down quite hard. Nu-hgwy followed his antennae, the sweet smell of the carcass growing stronger in spite of the precipitation. When at last they found the rotting animal, many hundreds of their kin were there. Chuk-hru was surprised; he had anticipated seeing others, but the mass of black bodies that surrounded them surpassed his expectations.

"I guess news travels fast!" he remarked to a comrade who came crashing over him.

"It's not often that the elders call a great assembly" replied the hexapod excitedly.

"Great assembly?" blurted Nu-hgwy, "There's a great assembly?"

"Yes; at the animal carcass!" said another, "There's talk of a move!"

The two assimilated themselves into the stream of gleaming bodies and scurrying legs that flowed to the carcass. There, atop a heap of fur and flesh, the elders awaited the mass. When the clamor had died, one of them spoke.

"Comrades, as you see now, the rains fall upon us! We have sensed that this time they will wash away all that we have come to depend on for generations. We have decided it wise that there should be a move." The formality as much as the content of this speech grated against Chuk-hru; in his heart the "wisdom" of the elders and the smelly cur that had torn him from his home somehow made a brief connection.

Another elder stepped forward, "You know that it has been four generations since the mighty ones ceased in their blessings. Supplies are diminishing constantly, and after the rains we fear there will not be enough left for all. We have decided to split the clan!"

These last words were spoken after hesitation and with great force, a force that was not lost on the crowd, which clicked and buzzed with shock and fear. There had not been a splitting of clans since ancient times, and much in the way of superstition had been handed down concerning it. Podlings hatched in the time of split were said to be cursed; those who died in times of split were said to haunt the living for eternity.

But it was not old wive's tales that stirred Chuk-hru's heart toward rebellion; the protean wrath he had been storing all day congealed into substance. He had been longing for an enemy all day to replace the hungry beast that had wrested him from hiding, and in this one word, "split," he had found it.

"Never!" he called out, "We must never split the clan!"

This cry seemed to elicit even a stronger reaction from the crowd. A splitting of the clans was rare and awful, but insubordination toward the elders was virtually unknown even back to ancient times. "These are cursed times indeed" clicked some.

The elder recovered from the shock of being challenged. "We must split the clan!" he repeated, "There is no other way. We have sent scouts to find a new home, and they have found nowhere that can support all of us. We must split the clan."

Chuk-hru looked at the carcass. The fur was a dark brown, with a white spot on the belly. It was matted with blood, dirt, and decay, but beneath the smell of its rotting lay the odor which had only that morning graced his antennae. His gaze moved upward toward the elders standing atop the carcass, bathed in its smell, fat with its flesh. They seemed to be expecting a response from him; he drew on whatever memory he could find . . .

"There is one place," he said, "The palace of the Mighty Ones."

If the previous statements had force enough to move the crowd to a buzzing, this one brought them full-circle into silence. Chuk-hru began to be impressed with the way he was handling this, and how the crowd reacted to his words. Perhaps the clan would no longer follow the elders, he thought, perhaps they will follow me.

The elder appealed to the crowd:

"This is senseless and wasteful talk. Our people were cast out of the palace many generations ago; you know the stories! The Mighty Ones became angry with us, and they sent a spirit of treachery upon the palace, until even the air itself turned against us. Many perished in that wicked day. Do you want to return, my comrades? Do you want the Mighty Ones to send us to the white fires of Hell?"

"Cowards!" Chuk-hru returned, "I myself will go to the palace and demand from the Mighty Ones supplies for our people."
Young fool, thought the elder; but the people seemed to side with him. They were impressed with his insolent courage, and the idea of keeping the clan together quelled their superstitious fears. Let the podling go and die, he thought.

"Go then." he said to Chuk-hru, "We will await you on the far side of the river, near the fruit-tree. There we can survive for a short while. But hurry!"

"I will return with the Mighty Ones, and hope for my people!" said Chuk-hru, sneering, as the crowd clicked and buzzed. He had won.

*

"So, where is the palace?" ask Nu-hgwy, scuttling along next to his cousin. The crowd was dispersing, preparing for the journey to the far side of the river. The rain still poured down, and the occasional smack of a raindrop would momentarily stun one of the cousins, making travel difficult. Nevertheless, Chuk-hru plowed on with determination.

"I don't know, but we're going to find out." he replied. It had occurred to him when making his bold exclamation that he did not have the slightest idea where the palace was, or even what it was, but then he remembered old Ghun-huk. Ghun-huk had been to the palace, long ago, and had the scars to prove it. Ghun-huk lived apart from the clan, who shunned him as one cursed. Chuk-hru knew, however, that the old 'pod was his best bet for finding the palace.

The grey drizzle had deepened into a dark wetness by the time they caught the scent of the old creature. Before them a large cylinder of metal rose, a shining edifice that gleamed in the twilight as if with a light of it's own. The cousins paused before it, and then Chuk-hru, resigning to his responsibility of leadership, approached the ovular opening that he took for a door.

"Who's there?" clicked a monstrous voice; it was as if the whole building were asking. Chuk-hru was frightened, but only enough to match his courage and not defeat it. He stopped still and said nothing. Then suddenly a head emerged from the door. It's left antenna was broken in half, and it did not seem to see the two young hexapods.

"I am Chuk-hru, and with me is my cousin Nu-hgwy; we have come to seek the pa-" started Chuk-hru.

"Cousins, eh? What is that to me? I suppose you two have come to cause some kind of trouble--well, go away! I don't bother the clan, so it don't bother me!" The old creature seemed more scared than angry.

Chuk-hru was a bit confused. He had taken time to get a really impressive proclamation put together in his mind, and when Ghun-huk interrupted him, it threw him off and he momentarily forgot why he had come. The old hexapod began to crawl back into the building.

"Wait!" Chuk-hru finally spoke, "We have come to find the way to the palace. You must help us!"

Ghun-huk paused, then looked at the cousins with a strange, almost mischievous look in his blind eyes.

"The palace, eh?" He crawled out of the building with some effort. The cousins gasped as they saw his crushed body; he had only four legs, his back two being only stumps.

"You see what the palace has done for me . . . " he began.

"I am going to demand from the Mighty Ones aid for the clan," Chuk-hru had decided it was his turn to interrupt; he had quickly formulated some more impressive proclamations and wanted to make sure they got out this time; "They must help us and bring us supplies as they did in ancient times."

The old 'pod clicked out a raspy chuckle of amusement. "I can smell the egg-slime still on you, foolish hatchling; they will not help you. They will destroy you if you are lucky, or if you are not they will leave you as they left me, maimed and crippled!"

Chuk-hru was prepared for this. "Coward!" he replied, "They will help us! I am not afraid!"

"Fool," said the old cripple, "Then go; you will find your death awaiting you. Scurry toward the setting sun, a day and half a day, beyond the stone sea. Perhaps we will meet again in the white fires reserved for those cursed souls who have dared challenge the Mighty Ones."

Chuk-hru laughed; he was not superstitious, "I will see you again with the Mighty Ones at my back. They will answer you for your cowardly talk." With that, the cousins started off.

"Stay out of the light!" Ghun-huk called after them, "If you see the light, run! for death follows swiftly." Their scent was fading. Maybe they heard him. "Young fools." he muttered.

*

They journeyed through the night, continually hampered by the falling rain which was not abating in the slightest but kept pummeling them mercilessly. From time to time the earth would erupt with the ruddy, glistening body of a worm surfacing to escape the floods of the underworld.

Soon the sharp darkness dulled into the grey of a new morning; the rain, however, took no heed, and poured down untaxed. Nu-hgwy did not share nature's endurance, however, and lacked the fire that drove his cousin; after much whining he convinced Chuk-hru to stop for a rest. The two crawled under a large leaf and Nu-hgwy fell asleep almost instantly. Chuk-hru had intended to stand watch, but once still he realized his weariness and soon dropped off into sleep.

His dreams were strange and troublesome. He stood once again in the assembly before the elders, and the crowd around him began to chant "Split the clan! Split the clan!"

"NO!" He cried out, "The Palace! The Mighty Ones!"

"Yes . . . we must split the clan . . . " said a voice from the carcass, but it was not an elder. It was the carcass itself; the dog rose, mould and decay falling from its body. The flesh on its scull was mostly gone, but where its eyes should have been, two globes of blinding white fire blazed. It snarled and lunged at him, but he scuttled away. It chased him across the river, across a sea of stone and into a sea of white fire. As he touched the fire a shock spun through his body and he felt dizzy.

He awoke, suddenly, to find that he was on his back. The leaf was gone and he was sore all over. It was still raining.

"Wha . . . ? What happened?" he spoke with anxiety that increased with his sobriety. He kicked his feet, trying to turn over.

"The dog . . . " moaned Nu-hgwy, "The dog stepped on us. I woke up just before it happened . . . "

"The carcass?" asked Chuk-hru. He was confused; was it a dream or wasn't it? he wondered.

"The carcass? What are you talking about 'the carcass'? The dog, the one that we saw yesterday." his cousin replied. Reality came back to Chuk-hru. He remembered everything.

"Turn me over." said Chuk-hru. His cousin complied and with a push Chuk-hru was on his feet. In the distance, he saw a flash of brown fur as the dog ran off into the hills.

They traveled on as the brightness of the afternoon faded into twilight. The rain endured.

*

"Can't we stop again? I know where we can hide from the dog better this time." Nu-hgwy was tired. They had journeyed late into the night once again, and already morning was testing the waters of the sky, preparing for its plunge into day. Nu-hgwy was beginning to doubt that they would find the palace, or even that there was a palace. "A day and half a day" old Ghun-huk had told them (though neither cousin was sure if a "day" was a whole day or just the amount of travel a crippled hexapod would want to do in a day), but yet there was nothing but the earth and the forest of grass. And of course, there was the rain.

Chuk-hru did not want to stop.

"No, we're almost there."

But suddenly, he did stop. His jaw clicked together and he sat stunned. The leaves of grass had opened and before them lay an image from a dream: the sea of stone, and beyond it, an awful edifice that could be nothing but the palace of the Mighty Ones.

"We've made it! The clan is saved!" exclaimed Chuk-hru. The cousins were ecstatic--their quest was not in vain.

They had not seen anything like the sea of stone ever in their waking lives. It seemed to be one piece of rock, rough but flat, stretching out as far as they could see, to the palace and beyond--far, far beyond. It was soaked with the rain, of course, and in many areas the water was treacherously deep, forcing them to navigate a maze of dry land and puddle. They passed many earthworms who had slithered here in search of salvation from the choking mud only to drown in the crystal pools of the stone sea. As they drew nearer to the palace it grew, and soon it was monstrously huge beyond Chuk-hru's wildest imaginings.

"How do we get in?" Nu-hgwy broke the awe with his banal question. Chuk-hru felt foolish. He had not known what a palace was (though he was sure this was it); he certainly could not have been expected to know how to get in.

"We look for a way in." he replied; it was all he could think to say. They continued to walk straight toward it until they reached its smooth wall. Unsure of what to do but determined to appear confident, Chuk-hru began to crawl up it. His cousin followed silently. They rounded a ledge and again stood transfixed by the sight before them: A vast doorway into the palace, blocked by a metal mesh. They gazed in at the palace interior; it was lit with a yellowish glow and they heard sounds from distant rooms within. What struck them, however, was a new smell. It was a smell they had known all their lives, one that hovered in the midst of every piece of cardboard, metal, paper, or plastic they had ever inhabited; but it had never been this strong, this pure. It filled them with a sense of dread and awe, and they knew it could only be the scent of the Mighty Ones.

Chuk-hru sprang to life. "Come on! We've got to get in!" He jumped on the screen and began chewing, and his cousin followed suit.

It was to no avail. The metal was too strong.

"Look around for a break!" Chuk-hru cried; desperation was driving him into a frenzy. They looked but found nothing. Chuk-hru stared through the metallic mesh at the amber glow of his clan's salvation. Despair and fatigue drowned his consciousness and at last he collapsed and fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

*

It was dark when he awoke, but the yellowish light still glowed in the recesses of the palace. Chuk-hru looked around and noticed Nu-hgwy sleeping nearby. He crawled over to his cousin and nudged him.

"Wake up" he said. Nu-hgwy roused himself.

"The clan . . . the clan is lost, Chuk-hru. We can't get in--the clan is lost. They'll have to split and we'll all be cursed." Nu-hgwy moaned.

"No, we still have time! Come on, let's look for a way in!" replied Chuk-hru. They crawled up and down the opening, but again found nothing. They sat listlessly on the ledge, without hope.

Something seemed different. Then it dawned on Chuk-hru; the rain had stopped. Clouds still coated the sky, hiding the heavens from view, but for a time, the rains had ceased. Chuk-hru looked out into the night, eastward from where they had come. He wondered if the clan had split, if they had given up on him. He had left them with the elders . . . the elders and their "wisdom" . . . their carcass . . .

The wind blew, lightly, but strong enough that it threatened to knock the hexapods off of the ledge. Nu-hgwy braced himself against the wind but was suddenly startled by a strange noise above him. It was a raspy squeak followed by a slapping noise. He looked up for the source of the noise.

"Chuk-hru!" he cried, "Look! A door!"

Chuk-hru looked up and, indeed, there was a door. A grey sheet of metal flapped in the wind on corroded hinges, revealing a dark hole in the wall with every gust. Without a word the cousins scrambled up the wall to the opening.

They approached with caution, for the flap bounced against the wall with near-lethal force, and the wind threatened to send them flying to the river. Chuk-hru watched the door intently. A gust of wind sent the flap flying open and, with flawless timing, he scuttled into the opening.

Nu-hgwy also watched the flap rising and falling. It was his turn now and he knew he had to hurry. The breeze grew; he saw the door begin to open and he ran for it. The opening grew larger and larger as he approached and he dove in head first; but too late-- wind shifted and the flap closed with a "Smack."

"Aaaayyeeeeeeeeeeeeee" squealed Nu-hgwy as his torso burned with pain. "Help me Chuk-hru!"

Chuk-hru hurried to his cousin's side. In the oddly-pulsing light that seeped through the opening he examined Nu-hgwy. His heart fell as he saw the crushed torso and the back-left leg half-gone. Nu-hgwy whimpered pitifully.

"Well, you fared better than old Ghun-huk." said Chuk-hru, trying to reassure his cousin; his voice faltered, though, thick with the horror and grief within.

"I can make it." said the other, as if reacting against his cousin's pity. He mustered his strength and began to lead as though it were he, and not Chuk-hru, who had come to face the Mighty Ones. Chuk-hru followed, stunned and sickened by his comrade's wounds.

They were in a large, dark tube. The surface of the tube was a strange metallic substance that smelled like plastic. It amplified the scratchy rasp of their footfalls, crinkling and popping as they walked onward. The air was warm and moist. Chuk-hru had expected the yellowish glow to light their way, but the tunnel only dropped into darkness.

The hexapods froze. Strange, ominous noises echoed up from the bottom of the tube. There were clanking sounds, and the booming and slapping of large objects being thrown around. The smell which had inspired them with so much dread was thick around them. Then they heard a loud click and a whirring noise that shook the whole tube.

A blast of hot, steamy air shot up from the bottom of the tube and knocked the cousins off of their feet. They flew up the tube and were nearly blown out, but each one dug into the crinkly wall of the tube and hung on for dear life!

The current of air blew constantly and seemed to get warmer and wetter with every second. Chuk-hru looked about for his cousin and saw him a short way back near the door, which now was held open by the steady stream of air. Nu-hgwy seemed to be clicking something to him but he couldn't make it out. Then, suddenly, Nu-hgwy was gone, blown away by the fierce, steamy wind.

Chuk-hru called out his cousin's name, but he knew it was futile. Anguished, he bit into the metallic floor in front of him.

It tore.

A beam of light shot into the tube, simultaneously filling it with a silvery glow and with a new hope. He tore viciously at the silvery substance with his mouth, making the hole wider and wider. The wind, as eager as Chuk-hru to escape, pushed through the hole, tearing it open. The pressure took hold of the hexapod and shot him out of the new opening.

*

He hit the ground hard but on his feet, stunned but not injured. Almost reflexively he scurried along until he found a hiding place behind some lumber stacked in the corner of the room. The floor was hard stone, like the stone sea, but much smoother--shiny, in fact, and it smelled plastic. He looked about the room and noticed the wrinkled, silvery tube he had escaped from. A jet of white steam puffed from the hole he had made. At the bottom of it was a large white box as big as a medium-sized shrub. The box vibrated a little and made a whirring noise like the one he had heard in the tube. The room was dimly lit, but the yellowish light seeped in through a crack in the far wall.

Chuk-hru stopped to think. He was not sure, at this point, what to do. He felt scared and alone. The loss of his cousin bit through his heart like sharp teeth. The word "fool" echoed in his head . . .

"Don't be a coward like the rest." he said to himself soberly. He began to imagine the whole clan and the elders standing about him, watching, along with old Ghun-huk.

"I will go and face the Mighty Ones, and reprove them for their inhospitality! I will demand succor for the clan!" he said to the invisible onlookers. He marched boldly across the floor toward the light; onward, to parley with the delinquent Titans. The crowd buzzed and clicked, some cheering him on, others mocking, still others trying to warn him. The light grew brighter as he approached. The voice of old Ghun-huk rose above the din.

"Stay out of the light!"

The yellowish glow grew brighter . . . brighter . . .

"The clan must split" howled the elders; Chuk-hru smirked inside. He was going to face the Mighty Ones. The glow was getting brighter . . . brighter . . .

"If you see the light, run! for death follows swiftly!" cried the old cripple. The light was brighter . . . brighter
. . .

"Fool!"

...Whiter . . .

"If you see the light, run!"

"Coward."

Suddenly, a shockwave erupted in Chuk-hru's universe. His body became pain, and his six feet struggled against it as though trying to detach themselves from the body through which the fiery sensation flowed into his world. There was a lurch of motion and a swirl of yellow lights that crescendoed until all was brilliant and white. He was stilled, partly by the blinding light, but he knew there was something more, something awful that paralyzed him with terror. There was a massive presence there, and he was choked by the awful scent of a Mighty One.

He sat in the light for what seemed like an eternity, nearly motionless with penitence except for an occasional involuntary twitch of the foot. "Is this the afterlife," he wondered, " . . . is it . . . Hell . . . to sit in this light . . . in this pain . . . the white fire . . . forever . . . "

As if in answer, the light faded quickly in a blur of motion.

Then there was Nothing.

*

I wrinkled my nose at the squirming cockroach as I held him up to the lamp. His legs had stopped moving except for an occasional spasm, perhaps realizing, I thought, that he wasn't going to get off of the bottom of the tennis shoe I had hit him with. His brownish-black body was mostly intact, but there was a milky-white ooze of innards that had been squeezed from his thorax which kept him securely fastened to the rubber sole. I don't know why I examined him so closely; perhaps it's that same sick curiosity which causes me to inspect a Kleenex after blowing my nose, or a psychotic fascination with the grisly and macabre scaled down to a passably sane level. I felt a little guilty.

"I wonder what's going through your head." I said to it. Then I grinned evilly. I slapped the shoe with all my might against the linoleum.

"My shoe" I answered myself.