The Actor

9

Mount Rushmore was an ugly thing, carved out of an Indigenous church. Tourists crowded around him, and he kept back, out of the crowds. Once upon a time he was ruled by these men, enslaved by some, abused by others. Unfortunately, nobody would ever hear his tales of these people. He wasn't considered a historical source, even though he had been forced into standing beside these men.

The heart of America was decay and bloodlust. This was where it showed itself in the most dramatic of ways. The fact that Mount Rushmore was incomplete was a silent warning. The fact the land it stood on was sacred and stolen and covered in blood was another. It stood tall as evidence of the oldest American bloodsport.

He found the entrance to the tunnels after clambering over a few fences. Some of the tunnels had collapsed. Others were so small he had to army crawl through them. He found rusted coins on the floor and small amounts of quartz in the walls. In here, everything felt wrong.

Dynamite leaned against the walls. Some powder kegs still were full, evidence of how this was still supposed to continue. The tunnels smelled stale, until they smelled damp. The main chamber was cold.

He sat down. Wishing he could sing or dance or call upon life to open these tunnels. But even the rats were silent, watching him from the walls and scurrying in and out of their holes.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and immediately knew who it was. A scorpion stinger wrapped around his arm, daring him to make any movement. He sucked in a deep breath. He could withstand more of Zaltana's venom, but it would still make him too delirious to drive or run away.

"You little rat," Zaltana said, wrapping an arm around his neck, "do not go disappearing again."

He whipped around, tossing dust into her eyes. She hissed, and her tail whipped at him, slicing deep into his shoulder. He collapsed on the ground, hardly breathing, while she worked on pulling the dust from her eyes.

"Durak," she said, running water from a canteen over her eyes, "you should know better, Fishka, than to do that."

She pulled him up by his collar, humming as the spell rippled through her. The portal opened, and the mansion waited in anticipation for her arrival.

"Never fear," she said, "I found him."