May or may not be an update tomorrow, Friday. This was a little hard to get down. Unfortunately for Alicia, it’s about to get harder. I see another Interlude after that, but I don’t think, per my first, they’ll be all the funny anymore.

Burial customs are a cornerstone of all civilizations.

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A white tentacle came up out of the water, perhaps three meters.  Alicia froze instantly with Allen stopping a moment later.

“Does…” he began

“Sh!”

There are no suckers on it, so nothing like a squid or octopus from Earth, she thought quickly.  How many arms are there?  And no matter what I see, it or they were enough to toss and kill poor Zhukov.

The end of the tentacle flared slightly, broader.  It’s listening.

Only fifteen years old, but different, she raised the pistol and blew the end of the appendage to meat with one shot.  It has an eight-round capacity.  Mikhail shot three.  So I’m down to four.

“Run!” she shouted, starting slow so Allen with his burden could get a little ahead while she stayed between him and the water.

Five more tentacles exploded out of the water.  One stayed back, open, listening.  Dammit.

No matter what I am, she thought, I cannot shoot a tiny, moving target while I am running!  “Move it, Allen!”  The waterfall was just ahead… whups!

One had wrapped around her right ankle, tripping her.  Not strong enough on its own to lift her, but the other three were now converging…

“Alicia!” Allen yelled back.

“Don’t stop!  Or I’ll shoot you!”

She shifted the pistol to her left and pulled the knife from behind her back, slicing the slimy white flexible arm.  Can’t tell what color the blood is in this light.  She scooted back before standing again and running north.

Not knowing what Zhukov might have done to it, with two more tentacles down, it did not seem quite as motivated to come after her.  A quick look back saw the white forms disappearing back under the water.  She caught up to Allen just at the waterfall.

“You’ve not seen that thing in three years?” she demanded.  “Were you asleep the whole time?”

“No,” he retorted, pushing through the water.  “I told you, some splashes now and again.  I’m not the kid who wants to leave no stone unturned down here!”

She got that and shut up.  Still looking to her right as they hurried on.

“I think your hut is far enough from the water to see to Zhukov,” she said in more a low voice than a whisper.  “We can prep him there.”

“What do you mean, ‘prep him’?  For what?”

She turned her head and for once let her eyes flash white.  “To strip him, go through his kit, then lay him to rest.  I know there’s an entrenching tool banging at the back of my knees from this rucksack, but I think a cairn some distance from your, well, our, hut, would be okay, from a sanitary standpoint.”

“You,” Allen shook his head under his burden, bearing left toward his home, “just thought of all that, right now?”

“More human than human, Uncle.  Here.  Lay him down, gently.”  Which he did.

She moved the bag off of her back to her left then immediately began with the dead man’s helmet.  That off, she worked on the gloves and boots.

“Get the rest of the zippers, please, Uncle.  I think we can salvage his suit for you if we need it.”

“Not exactly thrilled with the red hammer and sickle on the front,” he held up a hand, “but I get it, Allie.”

She froze.

“Yes?” he asked, also pausing.

“You called me Allie.  Thank you, Uncle.” She returned to her task.  Zhukov now as naked as they were, she stood.

“Cute guy.  Death is nearly always a tragedy.  Such lost potential for my world.”

“Aren’t you a little young to be calling a man cute, Niece?” Allen tried in dry humor.

“I’m fifteen and demi-human.  My mother shares my nature and was married at my age.  Your daughter was betrothed to Edward at sixteen.  They slept together but only married a year later.  Empress’ orders.  We’re different, Uncle.”

“I… I get that.  Sorry.”

“No worries.  With that beast in the water, I’m reluctant to start digging a grave; what’s under the ground?  Where do you think we should lay him to rest?”

A kilometer away, burning precious battery power for the flashlight, the two first cleared an area then gently placed rock upon rock, until nearly a meter tall, over the dead man.  Alicia took a few steps back before sinking to her knees.  Allen followed.  She raised her hands.

“Almighty God,” she began, crying again, “please receive the soul of Mikhail Zhukov.  A brave young man who left his home to make a new world.  Part of Your worlds without end.  He died for me just as You died for me.  And Allen.  An impossible debt.  Please, I ask, let me show the same heroism he did in this dark place in this odd time.  I ask this in the name of your Son, Jesus.  Amen.”

“Amen,” Allen echoed.  They stood.

“Let’s go back.  I’m hungry,” she announced, ever practical.