Nibblenom Deathtrap

Max and the Multiverse Shorts, Volume 2

Zachry Wheeler

Published by Mayhematic Press, 2019.

COPYRIGHT

© 2019 by Zachry Wheeler

All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-9991027-2-2

Print: 978-1-9991027-4-6

Edited by Jennifer Amon

Published by Mayhematic Press

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BONUS READ

Haven’t read the books? No problem! Max and the Multiverse shorts are stand-alone tales that serve as entry points into the series. And if you’re hungry for more, this short also includes the first chapter of book one as a springboard into the saga.

NIBBLENOM DEATHTRAP

a Max and the Multiverse short

Max awoke on a cold metal floor inside a dark corridor. Not the best start to a new day, but certainly better than others. You see, Max suffered from a uniquely irritating condition in that he shifted between parallel universes whenever he fell asleep. He didn’t know why or how, but he did know that the entire ordeal was a giant pain in the crack. Day after day, he awoke to a new reality and struggled to make sense of his surroundings. What started off as a rousing panic had softened into a routine aggravation. Very little surprised him anymore. In fact, anything above ground or sans gills was a welcome rise.

However, what did surprise him this time was the blood.

Max was facedown when he awoke, the standard pass-out position for any drunkard after an evening of tequila shots. A raging headache pounded inside his skull, but a hangover it was not. This was the all-too-familiar throb of blunt trauma. While the cranial pain was certainly notable, it was the wetness on his cheek that garnered his undivided attention.

Max rose onto his elbows to assess the situation. He touched his face, which carried the grooves of the grated metal floor beneath him. After a few light pats, he withdrew a palm coated in a crimson sheen. The fresh blood reflected the dim tunnel lights, appearing almost black to the eye. A subsequent search uncovered a small gash on his temple. Poking it proved rather painful, so he poked it several times as curious idiots are compelled to do. After a final poke and wince, he pushed to a seated position and leaned back against the wall.

A heavy sigh escaped his chest as he began to examine his new body. Still human, always a plus. No extra limbs or hidden bits, which made the transition much easier. The clothing, on the other hand, raised some immediate concerns.

As an Earth teen with minimal popularity, Max’s wardrobe choices often stood out as cringe-worthy examples of trying too hard or not hard enough. But the new duds he found himself in were bold and purposeful. Jacket, shirt, pants, boots, even a pair of strappy wrist guards, all coordinated through a blend of blacks and browns. The entire ensemble was crafted from a sturdy yet flexible material that breathed like Gromponian dermapoof (the quadrant equivalent of Egyptian cotton). While lightweight and stylish, the threads also carried the scuffs and scrapes of regular use. Max, it would seem, was an operative of some sort.

Or an assassin.

Or a superhero.

Or a superhero assassin.

Or a fan of German techno who danced with violent intent.

In any regard, he was a bloke who valued durability.

A quick survey of the immediate area uncovered some useful tidbits. He swiped a fingertip across the floor and lifted a streak of dark grease. Obviously not a pleasure cruiser, unless he was a quantum coal-shoveler. Perhaps a workman’s vessel, similar to the tiny freighter he was used to, but on a more industrial scale.

His gaze climbed the opposite wall of the tunnel he occupied, then traced rows of conduit pipes down a lengthy corridor. Lighting panels were spaced along the interior, close enough to illuminate the grim passage, but far enough apart to create a haunting haze. They seemed to go on forever in each direction, broken only by the occasional junction. A briny odor teased his nostrils, like an ocean beach littered with trash. Despite the foul aroma, the air was pleasantly thin and easy to breathe. The circulation system seemed to be online and functional, so he could rest assured that the vessel wasn’t adrift.

His focus landed on a small pile of toppled crates nearby. After a reasonable bout of putting two and two together, he concluded that a trip, fall, and consequent knock-out was the likely source of his bleeding scalp. The crates were positioned in an obvious manner, so he must have been glancing backwards or lost inside his own thoughts. Regardless, the entire scene came off as a careless accident, which was firmly within character.

This would have been the perfect time for a Ross quip, but Max was alone. No signs of his furry companion, or Zoey and Perra for that matter. In fact, a hollow silence lingered inside the tunnel, which proved rather unsettling.

Max pressed his palms to the wall and hoisted his body off the floor. A sudden rush of dizziness forced him into a squint and stumble. He gripped a narrow ledge for balance as his throbbing head equalized for some much-needed mobility. A shoulder roll and reaching stretch prepped his meat for a mosey. He looked right, then left, then right again before facing left and strolling down the corridor.

Hard shadows sliced through the interior when he passed beneath a light. Most of the trek was through a darkened void, as little greeted the eye apart from pipes and panels. The taps of soles on metal punched through an eerie stillness. The sinister vibe was difficult to ignore, even for an Earth teen with minimal dating experience.

Max strolled to a stop beneath a bright four-way junction. To his right, another lengthy tunnel with more of the same creep factor. To his left, a shorter and less ominous tunnel that ended with a ladder hatch. Without much thought, he spun left and moseyed towards the hatch.

A short amble later, he arrived at a plain ladder made of welded steel. It stretched through open hatches on the floor and ceiling. Curved railings surrounded the floor section, offering some lean-and-peek opportunities. Max gazed up and down through the portholes, hoping to make sense of his whereabouts. However, he uncovered little more than additional floors with similar patterns. The hatch holes faded into black shadows after several levels, so the ship could have been a hundred stories tall for all he knew. The only thing he knew for certain was that he was utterly and hopelessly lost.

Having no clue where to go or what to do, he glanced back at the junction, then down through the floor hatch, then up through the ceiling hatch, then back to the junction. He released another heavy sigh and scratched his gash, cueing another wince of pain. A groan of frustration ended with a pout and thigh slap. His fingers rapped on the leather as he conjured a plan to pass the time. Nothing popped to mind, so he wandered back to the junction, spun around a few times, and concluded with a shrug.

“Hello?” he said. His meager voice echoed down the corridors.

Silence responded.

“Anybody home?” he said, much louder this time.

Again, silence.

At least, for a moment.

A piercing shriek replied, like an angry banshee blasting into the night.

The distant bellow echoed through the complex, sending a fierce shiver down Max’s spine. He responded as any reasonable person would, by rooting into place and shaking like a Floridian in the Arctic. His horrified gaze drifted towards the source as he fought a sudden urge to wet his trousers.

Another shriek followed, only this time it carried the rumbling tromps of a beast in pursuit.

Max snapped out of his initial shock and started running in the opposite direction. Lights zipped overhead like a subway train speeding through the underground. He glanced back and nearly tripped over the original pile of crates, prompting a brief gripe before leaping over the mess and regaining his stride.

Another shriek, louder and closer.

Max yelped and whizzed through the next junction before slide-squeaking to a stop. He about-faced and sprinted back, having noticed an alcove of storage lockers. Hurried breaths fled his lungs as he bounded over a changing bench and grabbed the first door handle. A twist and yank revealed a shallow unit with a spacesuit and several accessories. Not enough room for a human and he sure as hell didn’t want to clear it out onto the floor for the pursuer to see. He closed the door, opened the next, and fought some falling rods before closing that one too. The third was mostly empty, drawing a grunt of success. He crammed himself into the unit, then hooked the slatted vents along the door and pulled it shut.

A nervous hush fell upon the room as Max struggled to suppress his panting. The tromps grew louder and louder, vibrating through the floor and elevating a sense of dread. Max peeked through the door slats just as a dark blur shot through the junction and galumphed to an abrupt stop. A low grumble infected the air as the mystery beast backtracked to the alcove. The locker wall curved around the space, giving Max a clear view of the junction.

Moments later, the beast emerged.

The sight forced Max to cover his mouth and swallow a scream. A horrifying monstrosity with ebon eyes and raptor claws inched around the corner. Black skin encased a muscular frame that could easily rip him in half. Boney spikes protruded from its back and shoulders, resembling an armor-plated gorilla. Meaty lips stretched around rows of dagger-like teeth. The beast exhaled puffs of heated breath as beads of slimy drool fell from its mouth.

Max trembled in his metal coffin.

The creature eyed the lockers with cautious intrigue before stepping over to the first unit. It yanked the first door open with a powerful snap. The panel crashed into the adjacent wall, cueing another high-pitched shriek as the beast lunged for the empty spacesuit.

Max palmed his chest and bit his lip to quell a whimper.

Another door, another yank and shriek.

Metal rods fell from the cubby and clanked on the floor.

Max closed his eyes, knowing that a dash and chase was imminent.

Another door.

Max’s door.

Another reach for the handle.

But then a clatter down the corridor stole the beast’s attention. Its thick brow ruffled with interest as its hulking frame turned back to the junction. A screech tore through the room as the creature leapt into a thumping pursuit. The rumbles of meat on metal faded into the distance.

Max emptied his lungs and slumped inside the locker as a wave of relief washed over his body. After a long pause to reassure his screaming brain that the danger had abated, he conjured some courage and flicked the internal latch. The door whined open, freeing him from the cramped confines. He crept into the alcove with widened eyes locked onto the junction.

“What the hell was that?” he said to himself.

“A margonk,” said a mystery voice.

Max flinched into an involuntary spin and tumbled over the central bench. His back thumped the floor, forcing the air from his lungs. A sudden panic launched him into a scramble, which he used to push his body against the opposite wall. His gaze whipped around the space, hunting for the source of his impending doom.

Soon after, another locker door creaked open.

Max swapped his terror for immediate confusion. “Ross?”

An orange tabby cat stared back at him through the usual haze of indifference. Only this time, half of the stare came through a plated skull cap with a glowing red eye. A leather harness wrapped around his neck and torso. “No, your mum,” the feline said with a British accent.

“What’s with the eye?” Max said, skipping pleasantries altogether.

“What’s with the stupid?” Ross snapped back.

“What’s with the vest?”

“What’s with the additional stupid?”

Max rolled his eyes and glanced away.

Ross trotted into the room with his tail raised as if nothing were amiss. He continued past Max and towards the junction, causing the human to tense with anxiety.

“Wha—what are you doing?” Max said as he hurried to his feet.

“Finding another hiding place,” Ross said without looking back.

“But, but, the beast!”

Ross stopped inside the crossway and glanced back at the frightened human. “If it’s not obvious by now, it tends to make its presence known. Not the sneakiest of creatures, those margonks.”

Max shifted his focus between the lockers and the red-eyed house cat.

“You coming or not?” Ross said.

Max whined with hesitation, then leapt into a jog behind his furry companion.

Ross kept a steady trot through the junction and down an adjacent corridor. Max followed close behind while whipping his wide-eyed gaze down each side passage. Apart from metal panels, lighting strips, and more metal panels, very little caught his attention. They scampered through an endless and repeating maze of nothing interesting. The lack of any meaningful input allowed Max to conjure some thoughts on the current predicament.

“So why is this thing chasing us?” Max said.

“Come again?” Ross said.

“Did it, like, hatch or something?”

“The hell are you talking about?”

“We’re obviously being hunted. Just want to know why.”

Ross slowed to a stop, then turned a perplexed gaze to the human. “Have you not been paying attention over the last hour?”

Max lifted a finger of discovery. “Ah, so this is a recent occurrence.”

Ross cocked his head in confusion, then eyed the bloodstain on Max’s cheek. “You must have bashed your noggin pretty hard.”

“Ah, yes.” Max patted his cheek and withdrew a mostly clean hand. “Oh good, the bleeding has stopped. Tripped over some crates, apparently.”

“Apparently? You don’t know?”

“I deduced after waking up beside some toppled crates.”

Ross chuckled. “So you have no idea that—DUCK!”

The cat’s sudden shout yanked Max off his feet. He dropped to the floor just as the beast dove in from a side passage. The creature sailed overhead as Max’s back hit the ground. Its razor-like claws swiped at the human before slamming head-first into the opposite wall. The impact rattled the area and dropped the beast into a dazed pile.

Ross had already poofed into a sprint down the tunnel.

Max scrambled to his feet and leapt into his own sprint as the creature began to stir. He zeroed in on the orange ball of fur ahead of him, closing the gap with every huffing stride. Dim lights zipped overhead, flashing his mouth-gaping terror. The monster shrieked, drawing a yelp from the fleeing human. A rumble of pursuit followed.

Ross sailed through the next junction and shot down a side tunnel. Max rounded the corner at full speed, flailing his arms to retain balance. He palmed the opposite wall and shoved himself back into a scurry. Max glanced over his shoulder as the creature thundered around the corner. Another yelp whipped his gaze forward. Ross darted into a narrow service channel, forcing Max into a sideways scuttle to keep up. Several meters in, they reached a dead end.

Ross cocked his ears and glanced back at the entrance.

Max reached the impasse, barked with panic, then whipped his gaze between the wall, the oddly calm feline, and the open channel.

The beast slammed into the entrance, drawing another yelp from the human. Max gawked in horror as the monster wedged into the space with its claws outstretched, but the narrow passage kept its bulky frame at bay. It swiped at the human and shrieked with frustration.

“You coming or not?” Ross said.

Max glanced down to an empty floor, then up to an open ceiling chute. His brow scrunched. “How the hell did you get up th—”

The beast shrieked.

Max flinched violently and scrambled up the wall, using panel ledges and conduit pipes to aid the ascent. He grabbed the rim of the opening and hoisted himself up to the next level like a seasoned gymnast. Having never performed a proper pull-up in his life, he paused to marvel at the strength provided by a terror-induced surge of adrenaline. Another shriek tore through the tunnel, yanking his brain back to the chase. A rumbling gallop faded into the distance.

Max glanced around another narrow channel leading to the main tunnel, a mirrored version of the one below. He squeezed through the passage and emerged into the main corridor where Ross was casually grooming his paw. Max sighed and dusted off his leather suit.

“Not the sneakiest of creatures, huh?” he said to the cat.

“I told you to duck,” Ross said without breaking tongue stride.

“Yeah, because a giant raptor ape managed to sneak up on us.”

“What’s your point?”

“For real? You just said—” Max stopped himself and sighed.

A dull rumble off in the distance caught their attention.

Ross cocked his ears back. “That’s our cue,” he said, then leapt into a trot in the opposite direction.

Max groaned and followed.

The rumbles grew louder, forcing them to up the pace. But then a sharp whistle brought them to an abrupt halt. Ross whipped his gaze around the immediate area in search of the source.

“Did you hear that?” he said.

Max spread his arms with notable distress, then pointed towards the distant rumble. “Hardly the time!” he said through a harsh whisper.

Ross turned to the human, caught a glimpse over his shoulder, then grinned.

Before Max could spin, an orange hand cupped his mouth from behind. He howled with fright, but the vice-like grip muffled his cries. His limbs flailed as another arm hooked his torso and yanked him into an adjacent room. He kicked and stumbled as his captor ducked inside and pressed against a darkened wall. After a brief struggle, his thrashing ceased when a familiar face appeared.

Perra lifted a finger to her lips, commanding him to shut the hell up.

Max nodded, but Zoey kept his mouth covered just in case.

Ross had already picked a dim corner and resumed his grooming duties.

Perra angled towards the entry point in order to survey the main tunnel, making sure to stay within the shadow line of the room. She carried a small device in her hand with a thumb resting on a trigger mechanism.

The thunder swelled before slowing to a stop down the tunnel. The creature eyed the chute from which Max and Ross emerged, then started scanning the area. Muted steps broke through a strained silence. Perra watched from afar as black eyes peered into rooms and alcoves. Heavy grumbles escaped a massive chest as it searched for prey. The beast lumbered to a halt outside the room, bringing it into full view of everyone inside.

Max held his breath.

Zoey clenched her jaw.

Ross paused mid-lick.

As the beast turned its black eyes, Perra triggered the device.

A sudden crash echoed from further down the tunnel.

The beast shrieked and leapt into a galloping pursuit.

Perra peeked into the main tunnel, then motioned an all-clear and exited the room. Zoey nodded and released her death grip on Max’s face. She patted his cheek and gestured to remain quiet before joining Perra outside. Max and Ross followed the ladies as they trotted down the opposite side of the tunnel. Several lefts and a few rights later, they arrived at another chamber with white walls and bright lights. Each barrier had a central door, serving as gateways to other regions of the complex. A large overhead port spanned multiple levels.

Max watched in silence as Zoey and Perra quickly surveyed the entry points. Perra’s long auburn hair was pulled into a tight ponytail. Her creamy orange skin seemed to wash away beneath the harsh lights. On the flip side, Zoey’s choppy black hair and sunburst complexion served as a stark contrast to the radiant enclosure. The Mulgawat ladies wore the same leather suit as Max, creating a Fantastic Four level of coordination. And despite being a cyborg cat, Ross embodied The Thing quite well.

Perra latched the device to her belt and turned to face the group. “Well that was intense.”

“What is that?” Max said, pointing to the device.

“Oh, just an outlet remote. I found it in a crate and hooked it up to a few distractions.”

“Worked like a charm,” Zoey said, adding a sly wink.

Perra grinned, then eyed Max’s blood-dried face. “What happened to you?”

Max patted his crusty cheek. “Oh, tripped over some boxes and knocked myself out. I guess I’m lucky as a mofo that the beast didn’t stumble upon me.”

“Not lucky for me,” Ross said. “I had a nice cozy locker before this nimrod ruined it.”

Max huffed. “And you can bite my ass, Garfield.”

“That’s racist.”

“You do remember that you almost got us killed, right? Thank you for that heart attack, by the way. If we make it out alive, I’ll need beta-blockers just to walk down a hallway.”

Zoey and Perra traded confused glances.

“Furthermore,” Max said, “your dumb little vest makes you look like a—”

WHAM! The black beast fell through the ceiling port and slammed onto the floor. The ground shook as an instant roar echoed through the chamber. It swiped at Zoey, who ducked the attack and sprinted after Perra as she darted through the nearest doorway.

“Run!” she said and disappeared.

Ross had already poofed and vanished, leaving Max all by his lonesome. The monster whipped its ebon gaze to the human, who responded by squealing and fleeing the room. Max hooked the doorframe and swung himself into a large tunnel, reaching full-sprint in a matter of seconds.

The beast gave chase.

Max sailed around a corner and into another passage. His heart pounded inside his chest as barking breaths fled his lungs.

The beast galloped behind him.

Max hugged another corner, desperate for a reprieve, but stared into another long stretch of tunnel. His legs began to burn as his body exhausted its adrenaline.

The beast rounded the corner and shrieked.

Max yelped and tossed a glance over his shoulder, meeting the gaze of ghoulish orbs. He shot around another corner and skidded to a halt.

A dead end.

The monster thundered to a stop, trapping the human between the rear wall and a gruesome death. Max spun to face the beast and pressed his back against the cold metal. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he stared into the black eyes of his imminent demise. The beast huffed and snorted, stretching its dense flesh across a bulky chest. Rows of white daggers dropped ribbons of saliva onto the floor. The creature roared one last time, raised its claws overhead, and hammered down with a vicious blow.

Max screamed and shielded his face.

His suit turned red.

But he was unharmed.

In fact, he didn’t even feel the hit.

The hologram claws had passed right through his body, triggering the suit to change color. Max glanced down at the rest of his duds. Boots, pants, tunic, all blood red, but with no cuts or slashes. He withdrew his hands and studied the undamaged flesh.

The mechanical beast snarled, then turned around and galloped after the others.

A woeful yet whimsical melody filled the area, followed by a floating hologram message. “You’re dead,” it flashed in big red letters. A text crawl beneath it read “Thank you for playing Nibblenom Deathtrap, brought to you by Nibblenom Snack Cakes. Report to base to continue.”

Max stared at the message as his brain processed the revelation. He closed his eyes, expelled a fluttering breath, then clenched both fists and shook them with wild abandon. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

MAX AND THE MULTIVERSE

Book One, Chapter One

Max stared at a dingy basement wall, tracing the grout lines of bare cinder blocks. He stood motionless in the center of the room, silent and waiting. Nostrils flared as they recycled the stale air. Fingernails scraped on tattered jeans. A pair of dim lamps painted haunting shadows on a cracked ceiling. His eyes shifted towards every faint sound. A thump here, a muffle there, followed by footsteps. Loud clomps overhead, then down the hall, then nothing. Silence ensnared the room. A door slammed. A car started soon after and faded into the distance. Max closed his eyes, took a measured breath, then scared the crap out of his cat by shouting “Spring break!”

Max’s parents had departed for Hawaii, leaving him to fend for himself in the dusty suburbs of Albuquerque, New Mexico. Not that he minded. As an only child with social anxieties and a crippling fear of the outdoors, he welcomed a quiet week in a dank basement. He enjoyed it, preferred it even. Spring break to most teens meant travel to exotic locales, or at the very least, anywhere but home. Max had no interest in such things. Spring break to him meant one thing: gaming, lots and lots of gaming, an endless romp of caffeinated carnage without curfews or prying parents.

And so, it began.

His closest friends inhabited pixels on a computer, the avatars of fleshy cohorts all around the world. They escaped their real-life dungeons by slaughtering monsters in virtual ones. It gave them a sense of pride and accomplishment, all while dismantling their basic social faculties. Two days into an epic bender, Max’s cat found him facedown and drooling on a rather expensive keyboard.

“Oi, Max. Time to get up.”

“Huh?” Max stirred at his desk.

“Arise, you lazy sod. I’m hungry.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll—wait, what?”

Max opened his eyes to find a chubby orange tabby with green eyes and puffy jowls sitting on the desk beside him, part one of a reliable morning routine. However, the usual crop of impatient meows had been replaced by the King’s English, complete with a disarming British accent.

“Morning,” Ross said.

Max yelped and flung himself backwards, tumbling out of the chair. His body thumped the cold tile floor and rolled to a rest against the couch. The chair clanked and clattered before landing on its side. Max whipped a frightened gaze to an apathetic feline.

“That looked painful,” Ross said.

Max flinched.

Ross raised an eyebrow while maintaining a ninja-like stillness, conveying the least possible amount of concern. “You okay there, mate?”

“You can talk. You’re talking.”

“Yeah, so?”

“But how? You don’t, um, I mean ...” Max’s sputtering mind sifted through a deluge of questions before settling on the most impractical one. “Do all cats talk?”

“What, do you mean figuratively?”

Max started to respond, then stopped, then started and stopped again. His brain and mouth refused to cooperate, sounding like a faulty video stream.

“Ooookay then, moving on. You’re awake. I’m hungry. Get off the damn floor, get your head on straight, and meet me in the kitchen.” Ross dropped from the desk and trotted towards the stairs.

Max shook his head and blinked several times, trying to offload the hallucination. He untangled himself and leaned back against the couch. After a scowl and shoulder roll, he pressed a finger to his neck to check his pulse, explaining a grand total of nothing.

An annoyed Ross peeked around the stairwell. “Are you coming or not?”

Max flinched again and covered his heart. “Jeez, give me a minute.”

“That’s another minute I have to abide an empty belly, now get a move on. By the way, the litter pan is full and I deuced in the bathtub. You might want to address that after you tend to my nutritional needs.”

Max responded with a contorted gaze.

Ross huffed and scampered up the stairs.

Max slapped himself across the cheek, winced in pain, and immediately regretted the decision. Climbing to his feet, he glanced over to a morning sunbeam peeking through a small port window, then grimaced like an albino cave troll. Designed as a mother-in-law suite, the basement featured a bathroom, kitchenette, and external entry, allowing Max to come and go as he pleased, not that it mattered much. His real-world obligations peaked at school and the occasional girlfriend, so he preferred to stay put, content to explore his virtual worlds under a veil of darkness.

He spent most of his time in a living room of sorts, in the sense that it housed the evidence of something living. Apart from an extravagant gaming system, furnishings amounted to little more than a squatter’s paradise. A ratty couch and rickety table served as bedroom and dining room. Corners and cubbies seemed hell-bent on expanding an impressive collection of dust bunnies. A pair of particleboard bookcases with opposing veneers gave a firm middle finger to interior design. An assortment of comic books, computer manuals, and gadget boxes completed the portrait of a standard nerd cave.

Max climbed the stairs like a half-naked camp counselor in a horror movie. He paused at the top and peered around the doorframe, scanning the hallway through widened eyes. Everything seemed in order, down to the forced smiles of family pictures along the walls. He tiptoed down the hall, pausing to examine each passing room. When he arrived at the end, he poked his head into a sage green kitchen where hanging pots reflected the morning sunlight. Ross stood in the center of the room with an expectant gaze.

Max froze and gawked at the feline.

Ross sighed. “Um, food? Sometime around now would be nice.”

Max stiffened his posture and crept towards the pantry while maintaining eye contact.

Ross tilted his head. “You’re starting to weird me out a bit.”

Max filled a bowl with cat food, lowered it to the floor, and slid it over to Ross.

“Thanks, mate. And for the record, that was way more than a minute.” Ross plunked his face into the bowl, spilling bits of kibble onto the floor.

Max backed away slowly like a vegan at a hog roast. He turned to the sink, cranked the faucet, and splashed his face with cold water. Droplets fell from his dangling jaw as he gazed out the window at nothing in particular. After a brief mental reboot, his attention shifted to the coffee maker, the lifeblood of any true gamer. He fixed a pot, filled his favorite mug, and lowered himself to the kitchen table. Sip after sip, he studied his furry friend while fretting over mental health and conversation etiquette. Small talk proved vexing with other humans, let alone with a cognizant pet. Convinced he was dreaming, or perhaps the target of an elaborate prank, Max decided to test the waters with a civil exchange.

“So, um, any plans for the day?”

Ross halted mid-chew and lifted an irked face from the bowl. “What, besides eating?” he said through a mouthful of kibble.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Why?” Ross narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t know, just curious.”

“Okay. I’ll play your little mind game.”

“It’s not a game. I’m just making conversation.”

“Life is a never-ending game of attrition. Our wits, swords. Our composure, shields.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Jeez, dude. It’s a simple, harmless, superficial question. I don’t need a Shakespearian response.”

“Fine.” Ross thought for a moment while crunching. “I haven’t thought much past this bowl, to be honest. Napping will be a high priority, on a variety of precarious surfaces. Might take in a window viewing or chase some sunbeams. May freak the hell out for no apparent reason, that’s always fun.” He ruffled his brow. “Why? Is there anything I should know about?”

“Nothing comes to mind. Why are you so suspicious?”

“That trollop of a girlfriend isn’t coming over, is she?”

“Who, Megan?”

“No, Miley Cyrus. Who the bloody hell do you think I mean?”

“No need to be a dick about it. What’s wrong with her coming over?”

“Well, duh, she’s an insufferable twit.”

“Wow.” Max cringed. “That’s a bit harsh. I thought you liked her.”

“What? When did I ever give you that impression?”

“So you don’t like her?”

Ross huffed and glanced away for a moment. “You are one dense wanker, you know that? How many times do we need to have this conversation?”

Max started to respond, but sighed instead.

“She’s a canine sympathizer, Max. She consistently reeks of wet dog and utterly fails to grasp the concept of an inside voice. I have choked down her prattle for long enough. Let it be known that I am very close to a rash retaliation.”

“Please don’t. She’s a good person.”

“Seriously, the next time I see that dimwitted bint, I’m going to vomit in her shoes.”

“Fine, no Megan today.” Max groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Jeez, it’s like living with a douchebag Garfield.”

“That’s racist.” Ross cocked his ears back.

“What? How is that— You’re both—” Max paused for a brain buffer. He shook his head, took another sip of coffee, then stood from the table. “I’m going out to get the mail.”

Ross replied with a stink eye, then plunked his face back into the bowl.

Max shuffled to the front door, unlatched it with a limp hand, and greeted an onslaught of New Mexican sunlight. The heat needled his pale skin as he lumbered towards the street with an arm raised overhead. He grabbed a handful of letters from the mailbox, sifted through a pile of mostly junk, then turned for the house.

“Maximus!” said a voice from below.

“Sweet mother of pancakes!” Max convulsed the letters out of his hands.

“Sorry mate, didn’t mean to wonk you,” the voice said, also in a British accent.

Max palmed his heaving chest. He glanced down to find the cheerful face of Gerald, the neighbor’s cat, a dirty brown tabby with blue eyes and an obvious weight problem.

“You got any more of those salmon treats? I could really go for some.”

“Shut up, minger,” Ross said from an open windowsill. “You need treats like a Max needs a third willy.”

Gerald scrunched his brow. “You have two knobs?”

“No, of course not,” Max said, then glared at Ross.

Gerald perked. “My uncle had one eye, three legs, and talked like a pirate. True story. Strange lad, that one.”

Ross snorted with amusement.

Max gathered the letters from the ground and stomped towards the front door with Gerald prancing behind.

“About those trea—” Gerald said as the door slammed in his face.

Max tossed the mail onto the counter, scowled at Ross, then flopped back into his chair.

Ross snickered and returned to his food bowl.

Max leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. Troubled eyes stared at the surface as he nodded with the steady cadence of a metronome. Fluttering breaths fled his lungs with every sip of coffee. Teeth chattered behind taut lips, filling his mind with a grim melody. After a long spell of nervous contemplation, he dropped his forehead to the table with a loud thump.

Ross jerked away from the bowl with cocked ears and a poofed tail. “What the hell, man?”

“I’m crazy, I’m crazy, I’m crazy,” Max said from beneath an arm fort.

“What do you mean crazy?”

Max lifted his head and heaved with a mounting panic attack, his unhinged gaze darting around the room. “I’ve gone insane. My cat is talking to me. My damn cat, and as Nigel Puffbottom no less.” Writhing and panting, he closed his eyes and tucked his arms to regain some composure. “I must be dreaming, or sleepwalking, or something. My brain has lost its footing and I’m just imagining cats talking to me. That’s all. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Brains can’t have a footing,” Ross said with a flat tone.

Max huffed and opened his eyes. “You can be a real jerk, you know that? Or not, who knows, it’s all in my head.”

“So, you don’t think I’m talking right now?”

“Of course not, cats don’t talk.”

Ross uncocked his ears and pondered the declaration. He pranced over to the nearest chair, bounded up to the table, and settled in front of Max. After a brief silence, he turned towards the window. “Oi, Gerald!”

Gerald’s head popped up from beneath the windowsill. “All right, Ross?”

“Get this, Max says that cats don’t talk.”

“What, does he mean figuratively?”

“No, he says not at all.”

“Well that’s interesting because we’re having a lovely conversation.”

“Exactly my point.”

“That doesn’t prove a damn thing,” Max said through a double facepalm.

“Wow, what’s his damage today?” Gerald said to Ross.

“Don’t know, trying to figure that out.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Best of luck.”

“Cheers, Gerald.”

Gerald ducked away as Ross returned his gaze.

Max glared at him through a finger fence.

“Don’t give me that look. I’m trying to help you.”

“Help me?” Max slapped his hands on the table. “How on Earth is that helping?”

“Fine, my apologies. Truce.” Ross bowed his head for a moment, then lifted onto his hind legs. He cleared his throat and dropped his voice to a smooth baritone. “The truth is ... you are the chosen one.”

Max scrunched his brow. “Huh? What the hell are you talking about?”

“While I appreciate my given name of Rosco P. Coltrane on this planet, my real name is Reginald Sarcoga, first son of Hackamore. I hail from an ancient order of supreme beings that occupied the Zynfall Galaxy of Hamonrye. We settled upon your planet long ago and assumed the feline form to aid in our divine quest. I have spent my entire life looking for you. Today, we present ourselves to Your Grace. You are the one the prophecies foretold. You are the fabled Shifter, The Light, the vessel that will unite all universes under an infinite era of peace.” Ross placed his paw on top of Max’s hand. “It is time to fulfill your destiny, star child.”

Max donned the bewildered expression of a preteen boy seeing his first pair of boobs. An eyelid twitched for good measure as his brain processed the reveal. With a renewed vitality, he locked eyes with a stoic Ross. “I knew it. I knew there was something bigger going on here. I have always felt the draw of some higher purpose.”

“I am so pulling your leg right now.” Ross smirked and removed his paw.

Max drooped with the sting of embarrassment. “You’re such an asshole.” He closed his eyes and thumped his head back onto the table.

“Gerald!” Ross said to the open window.

“Wotcha?” Gerald said as he popped his head up.

“I told him he was a star child with a destiny.”

“Oh, that’s cheeky. How’d he take it?”

“Not well. He keeps banging his head on the table.”

“Won’t that churn his noggin?”

“Can’t break what’s already broke.”

“Brilliant, carry on then.”

Max stood in a hurry, flinging his chair halfway across the kitchen. He rushed over to the window where a smiling Gerald perked with attention.

“So how about those trea—” Gerald said as the window slammed shut, muffling his voice behind the glass. “Right, shall I just bugger off then?”

Max ignored him, dropped the shade, and returned to the kitchen. He swiped the mug from the table and snapped at Ross. “You proud of yourself?”

“A touch, yeah.”

Max downed a final swig before grabbing the pot for a refill. He sighed with defeat, then leaned back on the counter and stared at the floor. “So that’s it, then. I’m nuttier than a squirrel turd.”

“Yeah, you’re probably schizophrenic or something.”

Max sneered at Ross. “Thanks, you’re so helpful.”

“Oh c’mon mate, lighten up. Most people slog through life without ever knowing the wonders of true insanity. I say enjoy the pink elephants while you got ‘em.”

“Well, that’s one terrible way to look at it.”

Max spent the rest of the day coping like a normal teen, by avoiding the problem and turning to gaming. He battled digital demons while trying to ignore the color commentary of a sentient feline. Though unnerving, he did learn a great deal about life as a house cat. He learned that laser pointers were the purest of evils, that sunbeams healed every possible ailment, and that squirrels were a bunch of frolicking asshats that needed to be taught a lesson.

* * *

In another universe, about three and a half billion to the left, a small freighter ship exited hyperspace just outside of Neptune’s orbit. As little more than a flying dumpster, the ship was not winning any beauty pageants. Its clunky hull appeared more mangled than designed, leaving one to suspect that its architect loved booze and Legos. A charcoal gray exterior with numerous dents and rust stains conveyed an impressive amount of disregard. The deep blue glow of its twin rear engines created a drab silhouette, like a bloated bat crossing a moonlit sky.

Apart from a standard registry code engraved in white lettering, the mundane craft carried no markings or obvious identifications, a calculated necessity for the crew. Its banal presence concealed a sophisticated collection of technology, including a military-grade frame, enhanced jump drive, and several pieces of plasma weaponry. To an average passerby, the ship read as little more than a poor drifter shuttle. After all, members of the PCDS (Precious Cargo Delivery Service) needed to guard their inconspicuousness above all else.

The sleek cockpit gleamed with an array of touch-based circuitry. A double-crescent control panel pinged with scans and alerts. Blinking blues and pulsing purples outlined the freighter’s commander in the pilot seat, a shrewd Mulgawat by the name of Zoey Bryx. Most knew her by an ominous nickname: The Omen, earned for her distinct reputation as one of the most ruthless and efficient PCDS couriers to have ever lived.

When Zoey accepted a job, it came with an unwavering promise: If I’m not on time, you can assume I’m dead. Despite her young age, a twentysomething by Earth years, she won tremendous fame through an unrivaled dependability. As a result, she often found herself entrusted with some of the most extraordinary artifacts in all of existence, current cargo included. Nothing explicit, just a small plastic box with an address and the following instructions: Handle with care, the great bag of marbles depends on it. It rested inside a bio-lock safe at the rear of the cargo bay.

On their way to the Andromeda Galaxy, Zoey and her longtime girlfriend, a fellow Mulgawat and gifted machinist by the name of Perra Harbin, decided to make a pit stop at a boring yellow star. To anyone in the know, the destination was obvious. This particular star anchored a solar system famous for one of the universe’s most delectable sources of water: a small icy moon named Europa orbiting a massive gas giant named Jupiter. Those fortunate enough to sample Europan water, harvested from enormous freshwater oceans far beneath its surface, often described it as a transcendent experience akin to licking a firetooth sandworm.

Zoey narrowed her deep blue eyes as she scanned the panoramic viewport. She slipped off her worn leather jacket and draped it across the back of the pilot seat, leaving her to the comfort of a thin tank top and cargo pants. A few taps of the control panel produced a green hologram of the current solar system, brightening her sunburst orange complexion and dark blue lips. A small cursor blinked at the outer orbit, signifying their current location. She brushed her choppy black hair aside and tapped the pulsing icon. The hologram pinged in response and zoomed into Neptune’s orbital path. She nodded and input a course correction. The ship pitched downward, lifting a massive blue horizon into view. A smile stretched across her face as Neptune’s cobalt sheen engulfed the cabin.

“Perra sweetie, we’re here!”

A squeal of delight echoed from the cargo bay as Perra darted up a narrow corridor towards the cabin. The studded straps and tarnished buckles of her machinist pants clanked along the metal walls. She emerged with a toothy smile and peered out the viewport. Her creamy orange hand pressed against the console as she leaned forward. A series of error pings rang around the cabin, prompting Zoey to fumble for corrections.

“Ugh, watch what you’re doing,” Zoey said.

“Sorry,” Perra said. “I’m just so excited to see it.” She stepped back from the panel and wiped her grimy hands on a simple halter top.

Zoey nabbed the back of Perra’s neck and pulled down, planting a kiss on her buttery orange cheek. Perra’s long auburn ponytail brushed Zoey’s shoulders, tickling the thin blue scales running down her upper arms. Perra snickered and plopped into the co-pilot chair.

“I’m excited too, my love,” Zoey said.

“So where is it?” Widened eyes scanned the vista, her deep purple irises floating in pools of white. “That doesn’t look like Jupiter at all. At least, not what I remember from the coms.”

“We’re not there-there yet, just here.” Zoey pointed at the hologram. “We’re at the edge of the planetary system. This is a controlled area, so we can’t jump in directly. We have to taxi in from outer orbit.”

Perra huffed. “That means we still have a few pochs left to travel.”

“That’s nothing, we’ll be there before you know it. Let’s see ...” Zoey tapped across the console, highlighting some basic system info. “Okay, we have a yellow dwarf star with eight planets, four rocky, four gaseous. Jupiter is fifth from the star, first gas giant. We’re just outside the eighth’s orbit. That’s Neptune.” She pointed at the giant blue planet filling the viewport. “Taxi speed is set at 10 gamuts a mark, putting Jupiter at about 3,000 marks away. See? Not even a full poch. Plenty of time to relax and load up some languages.”

Perra sighed. “Okay, fine. Let’s just hope it’s nothing too complicated.”

Zoey and Perra were not speaking an Earth dialect when they arrived. As citizens of Mulgawat, a small planet in the Ursa Major Group, they spoke Korish as their native tongue. To human ears, a Korish conversation sounded like a couple of sleep-deprived frogs getting stabbed in the throat. When entering any new system with dominant forms of language, it was customary to install the major dialects before docking at a station.

Perra reached into a side compartment and withdrew a cylindrical device, silver in color with a simple control pad. She plugged it into the console, spawning a hologram panel of diction data. “Looks like we have three. Chinese, Spanish, and English.” A quick swipe loaded the infuser. She plucked it from the dock, placed the business end to her temple, then pressed a red button at the other end. A whir, zot, and ping signaled a successful installation. She shivered away a chill, then handed the device to Zoey.

“Only three? Nice.” Zoey repeated the process.

Now they were speaking English, the most comfortable of the three. Chinese felt too weird on the face and Spanish sounded too damn sexy to take seriously.

“So, just under a poch, eh?” Perra stood from her seat, slid her hands across Zoey’s chest, and whispered into her ear. “That does give us plenty of time to ... relax.”

Zoey smirked. She confirmed the trajectory, engaged the autopilot, and lifted to her feet. A wandering finger hooked Perra’s belt and yanked her into a steamy embrace. Wet lips and muffled moans broke the dull hum of the main engines. Perra pulled away and motioned down the corridor with a subtle gesture. Zoey bit her lip and nodded, allowing Perra to back down the passage with her lover in tow. Hungering for each other, they disappeared into the bedchamber.

Continue reading:

Max and the Multiverse

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Zachry Wheeler is an award-winning science fiction novelist, screenwriter, and coffee slayer. He enjoys English football, stand-up comedy, and is known to lurk around museums and brewpubs.

Learn more at ZachryWheeler.com

ADDITIONAL WORKS

Immortal Wake Series

Transient

Thursday Midnight

The Mortal Vestige

Max and the Multiverse Series

Max and the Multiverse

Max and the Snoodlecock

Max and the Banjo Ferret

Max and the Multiverse Shorts

The Item of Monumental Importance

Nibblenom Deathtrap

Sparkle Pirate

Hiss Bot Hank

Box Sets

Immortal Wake

Max and the Multiverse

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