Nibblenom Deathtrap Read online

  Nibblenom Deathtrap

  Max and the Multiverse Shorts, Volume 2

  Zachry Wheeler

  Published by Mayhematic Press, 2019.

  Table of Contents

  COPYRIGHT

  FREE EBOOK

  BONUS READ

  NIBBLENOM DEATHTRAP

  MAX AND THE MULTIVERSE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ADDITIONAL WORKS

  BEFORE YOU GO

  FREE EBOOK

  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

  FREE EBOOK

  Claim your FREE limited edition copy of The Item of Monumental Importance: a Max and the Multiverse short! Max awakes to a mystic realm and must brave a barrage of fantasy tropes.

  zachrywheeler.com/freebook

  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?” h
e 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 th
e 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.