Level One

  Explosion is probably the wrong word. It was more of a pop. There was a sound like fwoomp, and then a rush of air like when someone slams the door at the other end of the house, and next thing Cooper knew there was a gladiator standing right in front of him.

  He was taller than the ones Cooper had encountered in the Bakery, or at least less short. He was also dressed differently: barechested with a red kilt, sandals that laced up to the knees, and a massive helmet made of bronze or brass or something. In one hand he held a 7-foot-long spear. In the other was a wooden shield the size of a manhole cover. He didn’t make any aggressive moves or anything. Just stood there staring at Cooper. He did this despite the fact that Cooper - after cursing loudly, and nearly jumping out of his skin - immediately put on the naked chick ring. Cooper took a step to the left. Then to the right again. The gladiator’s eyes followed him the whole time.

  “You can see me, can’t you?” Cooper said, ridiculously, since there was no way the guy spoke English. Of course the man didn’t reply. He didn’t so much as blink.

  “Nod your head if you can see me.” Cooper said, again ridiculously.

  To his shock, the gladiator nodded.

  Cooper thought for a solid minute. “Turn around,” he finally said.

  The gladiator calmly turned around, showing Cooper his back.

  “Stand on your right foot.”

  One sandal left the floor.

  “Now your left foot.”

  The gladiator switched feet.

  “Jump.”

  The soldier’s shield and spear clattered together as he bounced up and down.

  “Okay. You can stop.”

  The gladiator went back to standing at attention, his face completely calm, like this was all just a normal day for him.

  Cooper took off the naked chick ring.

  * * *

  The duffel bag wasn’t all that heavy, but it still felt nice to have someone else to carry it. Also, the gladiator didn’t seem to mind having the bag strapped across his chest, though he probably wouldn’t have complained if he did.

  “This way,” Cooper commanded, pointing the snake stick into the next hallway. The gladiator obeyed, allowing Cooper to follow a few steps behind. He wasn’t expecting them to run into any traps, or to get attacked by a starving bear or anything, but if it happened, the gladiator would take the brunt. As they walked, Cooper drew the word “CARROT” on the wall at each intersection in charcoal, along with an arrow pointing back toward the Carrot Room. Each arrow immediately burst into flames, but once the flames died down they left a nice, readable scorch mark.

  Cooper’s stomach was feeling better on account of him absolutely stuffing himself with freak-carrots, though as Cooper had expected, all that rabbit food had only left him craving meat or cheese or peanut butter or something. Basically anything that wasn’t carrots. Cooper had his shoes off. As it turned out, the trail of little red diamonds pointed out by Bird Girl - which did indeed lead all the way from the Carrot Room back to the other side of the maze - was being made by his left sneaker. As best as Cooper could figure out, he had stepped on a few grains of red dirt back in the Grapevine Room and somehow he had ended up making a trail that stretched for like half a mile. The good news was he figured it out before it got him killed. Also, following the trail allowed them to head straight back to the Trout Room, allowing for the inevitable dead-ends, double-backs, and the significant amount of time Cooper had apparently spent walking in circles.

  It took Cooper a while to explain to the gladiator exactly what he wanted. And even once he got it, all the guy did was just sort of jab the spear up and down in the water like he was churning butter. Finally Cooper took the spear away and tried for himself. And despite the fact that he was holding it in his off-hand, and could only steady it slightly with the snake stick, after a couple of tries Cooper managed to spear himself a nice, fat trout.

  It was only after he caught the trout that Cooper realized he had no idea what to do with it. It might have been possible to gut and scale the thing with his Swiss army knife, but it would have been a huge pain in the ass left-handed, and he didn’t think there was any way to explain it to the gladiator. Also, even if he managed somehow, there was still the problem of how to cook it. Cooper had the coal obviously, but he wasn’t really in the mood to build another fire right now, even if he he could keep this one under control. The more he thought about it, the more Cooper realized that the whole notion of catching and eating a trout was completely impractical, and eventually he allowed the wriggling, thrashing fish to slide off the spearpoint back into the pool. The trout was clearly near death at that point, the tiny green circle over its head reduced to just a sliver. Cooper gave it a quick blast from the snake stick until the circle was near 50%.

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  Suddenly, Cooper had an idea.

  * * *

  The Beehive Room still smelled of smoke, but the haze was mostly gone, and none of the hives seemed to be actively burning anymore. Also, the flowers in the flower bed seemed mostly undamaged, and the bees that had survived the blaze appeared to be getting back to the business of making honey.

  It took a few minutes to get the gladiator to understand what he wanted, but once he got it he turned into an absolute dynamo, stomping around the Bee Hive Room, digging honeycomb out of the destroyed hives with his bare hands no matter how many bees stung him. Cooper, meanwhile, watched from the hallway with the naked chick ring on, keeping a close eye on the green circle over the gladiator’s head. It only dropped a little bit when the bees started getting after him, but Cooper gave him a toot from the snake stick just in case.

  When they finally left the Bee Hive Room, they had amassed a good 4 or 5 pounds of honey. Cooper put it all in the middle of the wooden shield so the gladiator could carry it easier. The poor guy was entirely covered in welts, but the snake stick had already brought the swelling way down already, and Cooper figured it would be entirely gone again in another 10 minutes. Cooper himself, meanwhile, had a slight rash on his middle finger due to the naked chick ring, and he was starting to feel a little queasy from all the honey he had eaten, but for the most part he was doing great.

  “You know what I could really go for right now,” Cooper said as he licked his fingers, “is some fucking pancakes. Do they have pancakes where you come from?”

  The gladiator didn’t answer of course, but that was fine. Cooper had no problem carrying the conversation on his own.

  “If not, you’re missing out,” he continued. “They’re kind of like flatbread, but sweeter, and usually you put honey or maple syrup on them. Do you know what maple syrup is? Anyway, pancakes are amazing. A lot of people think they’re just for kids, but I’m a grown-ass man and I have no problem-”

  Cooper never got to finish that sentence. Instead, he stumbled forward as the tile under his foot shifted downward. Meanwhile, a thwunk sounded in the distance. He had just enough time to realize how incredibly fucked he was before he heard a clattering sound, and something heavy hit him in the side.

  The next thing Cooper knew he was on the floor, covered in some strange, purplish liquid with a fruity scent that reminded him of grape jelly. It took Cooper a moment to realize that liquid was the gladiator’s blood. The oversized arrows had missed Cooper completely this time, but the gladiator had taken one directly in the chest. The man himself was now unconscious, the arrowhead emerging from a gruesome wound just below his left shoulder blade, from which grape jelly was pouring by the bucketful.

  “Oh, fuck me,” Cooper said when he saw the extent of the injury. He raised the snake stick, causing a circle to appear above the gladiator’s head. It was purplish-red and had shrunken down below half. Cooper gave him a shot from the stick, but it didn’t do anything. Cooper flipped the gladiator over on his side to get a better look at the wound. It was an absolute shitshow. The arrow had punched a hole in the gladiator’s side, enough so that Cooper could actually see right into his chest. But where a normal person would probably have lungs or a heart or a spleen or whatever, all the gladiator had was a sea of pulsating purple goo. The sight of that goo really freaked Cooper out. Among other things, it meant that the little bit of First Aid he knew was worthless.

  Cooper decided he should try removing the arrow from the gladiator’s chest. That turned out to be an absolutely horrible idea. The arrow wouldn’t come. All Cooper did was cause fresh jets of jelly to squirt out of the wound as he pushed and prodded the arrow’s shaft. Meanwhile, the circle over the gladiator’s was slowly turning a darker shade of purple as it kept falling. Cooper tried the snake stick again, but again, nothing happened. It just kept going down. It was already less than a quarter now. In another minute or so it would be entirely empty.

  Desperate now, Cooper tore open his duffel bag, rifling through the flasks and bottles and boxes of dirt. He figured there was a good chance one of these things would help the gladiator, but he had no idea which one, and the wrong one might just kill him outright. Meanwhile the circle had worn down to mere a nub. In a few more seconds it would run out. On the verge of panic, Cooper turned the duffel bag upside down and gave it a shake, flinging things across the hallway in a desperate search for something, anything, that could save the gladiator’s life. And then, just like that, he found it.

  Pulling the cumberbund out of the duffel, Cooper lifted up the gladiator by the legs, threading one end of the sash under the man’s left ass cheek. He then tied a knot in the cumberbund and cinched it tight just as the gladiator’s circle was running dry. The next thing Cooper knew, his face was wedged between a stone wall and a giant ass. It took him a moment to extricate himself from the pile of body parts and climb to his feet. The corridor around him was now an ocean of purple. As had happened to Cooper earlier, the gladiator was now well over 10 feet tall and almost six feet wide. The wound in his side had grown wider as well, and the amount of purple goo gushing out had actually increased somewhat, but the circle above the gladiator’s head was nearly back to half-full. It was still decreasing, but slowly. Cooper sighed, putting his back to the wall as he slid down to the jelly-coated floor.

  He needed a beer.

  * * * * *

  Name: Cooper of Vancouver

  Gender: Male

  Affiliation: None

  Age at Entry: 29

  Current Level: The Labyrinth (1)

  Jing: 10/10

  Qi: 10/14

  Shen: 0

  Status: Cursed (3)

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