9 Tales Told in the Dark 10

by 9 Tales Told in the Dark

  A few feet from the generator, he could move again. The Brands backed away and then were gone. Tommy’s arms were sore with the burden of the heavy hands at the ends of them and he allowed them to drop to his sides.

  “It’s something isn’t it?” Initially, the voice sounded like it came behind him but when he turned, he saw no one. A sound then drew his eyes upward toward the top of the generator.

  He recognized him immediately from the café menu. Spectacles sat on the end of a phallic nose set in a rotund face. His body was equally round, but well-dressed in a black suit with tails and matching vest. He was a cross between the Monopoly Guy and Teddy Roosevelt, but his appearance was overshadowed by an authoritative air and an egocentric swagger. The man seemed to grow with each passing moment either by supernatural power or an illusion from the after effect of the damage sustained by Tommy’s eyes earlier.

  The Mayor floated down toward him, the air distorted and crackling under the patent leather shoes he wore. The brown hair on his head and above his lip was suspended stiffly in various directions from static electricity. His eyes blazed and flames erupted from clenched teeth. Tommy took a step forward but was repelled by an invisible shield, his fist stopped in mid-strike, hanging suspended in air.

  The Mayor chuckled, a laugh devoid of humor. “Mr. Manning, by the time our conversation is over you’ll want to embrace me rather than destroy me. Welcome to my home. It’s an amazing place. This plant supplied energy to thousands of homes in the Other. Now, it relies on Sparks for energy rather than fossil fuels. Similarly, the generator converts raw materials through mechanical power into electrical power. The cooling towers dispose of what we don’t need.”

  “I’m interested in the endgame. I get sucked into the walls or become part of the floor?”

  There was a delayed response and the overhead lights dimmed. “Direct, huh? If you only had that determination in the Other, you might have made your parents proud. Give them something to brag about after Sunday church service. But I digress-“

  Tommy looked around. No Brands were in sight but the plant was foreboding, a living, breathing mass of energy, and he was sure that the building itself would try to stop him if he attempted escape.

  “This will be home and it’s a good home.”

  Tommy slowly brought his hand up to his waist. The aches in his arms were gone and with it any trepidation about what he would do. His choices were limited. If he couldn’t touch the mayor he could surely test one of the walls in the room.

  The mayor’s back was turned to him as he hovered high above the floor and looked out a window.

  “Looks like I got no choice. “

  He slowly turned to Tommy, his lips parted to show two neat rows of teeth. “Nope, but you could be a part of my campaign if you’re willing. A recruiter like our boxing philosopher. The perks are great- chocolate pudding if you eat your vegetables.”

  There were the clicking sounds of something hard dragging across the polished floor and then a large body came into view from behind vertical rows of sweating pipes. It lumbered toward him partially sliding on the slick surface.

  He hugged Midnight as a tongue gently lapped at the nape of his neck. Tommy stepped back and turned the dog while closely examining him.

  “He hasn’t been harmed. We don’t get many animals here but somehow he slipped through. Another first, Tommy-this adds to your intrigue. Your light shines so bright; its aura is so delicious, a beacon in the darkness.”

  Tommy faced the other man. “I appreciate the flirting but you’re not my type.”

  The mayor dropped to the floor, the slap of his rubber soles echoing throughout the vast room. There was no smile this time just piercing eyes that changed from blue to red to yellow. “Ah, but I am looking for copulation, Meathooks. It’s time for a little taste of-“He reached out with arms extended and his fingers grew like talons pointed at Tommy. The fingernails were not nails at all but spears of polished steel. He could feel them cutting into his eyes, the pop and ooze of metal through meat.

  They stopped inches away. There was activity to his right and he turned slightly never losing sight of the Mayor. Peripherally, he saw Midnight bouncing about as Herb approached followed by two Brands. Despite the bruising, there was an emotion splayed across the elder boxer’s face that he couldn’t immediately identify. The Brands were steps behind him and were focused completely on the Mayor. Herb was walking freely.

  “Hey Herb, I’m always happy to see you but your presence is not required. I need you out there bringing more delicious morsels for our caldron. Your friend here is about to be seasoned and served.”

  Herb avoided eye contact with Tommy and stared at the Mayor with his one good eye. “I’m done as we agreed. You take the kid and I go back to the Other.”

  The Mayor pulled back what now were normal hands and brushed off the front of his vest. “I can’t do that. I few more jobs and you’re done. The other team has been getting the lion share of Sparks recently and we need the power. Too many do-gooders I say.”

  “You promised,” Herb spat. “We had a verbal contract! You said after the kid here, I was done! I wasn’t even dead when you pulled me out of the Other. My time there wasn’t finished and now you want to extend my time here?”

  The Mayor moved closer to Herb, sometimes stepping, other times gliding, his image distorting, becoming longer and then compressing. His voice seemed to be on another plane, muffled and tinny. “It’s depleted plenty of our energy to keep you here. I can still feel the burning, the agony of breaking through and pulling you out of the Other. You are here and that has attracted more Sparks to this Place. Your magnetism is valuable and our plan to build a conduit to the Other won’t happen without you.”

  Herb sighed and looked at Tommy for the first time who then recognized the emotion on his face. Regret.

  “Sorry, Tommy. I just don’t belong here.” With a yell he swung a glove backwards, piercing the wall of the generator. Humming was followed by the crack of lighting as the lights went out. The Mayor and the two Brands began to convulse and the building appeared to bulge inward as if imploding.

  Herb’s face looked eerie in the flashing lights. “But neither do you.”

  ><><

  There is darkness. The sun, or a version of it, sets perhaps for the last time. The sky, devoid of a moon and stars, is a sea of black oppression stifling all that is blanketed beneath it. Despair and defeat are everywhere. Buildings made of brick and mortar crack, no longer supported by stable foundations. Sidewalks warp and streets cry asphalt tears that pour through manhole covers and storm drains. Streetlamps, rendered impotent by power loss, stand guard over nothing.

  An old woman is leaning against a dumpster, her once supple skin and long muscles now sagging from brittle bones too weak to bear the burden. She does not remember once being an accomplished dancer or meeting the President at a fundraiser. A gnarled hand runs over the smooth metal lid of the receptacle that she’s been torn from.

  A young boy staggers into a brick wall still holding the handle of the red wagon being dragged behind him. One of the wheels is missing and the axle cuts angry lines into the concrete. Repeatedly, the boy walks into the wall, and the impact is like a wet fish flapping inside a boat.

  These and other souls struggle dazedly through back alleys while the engineer of this place seethes deep underground.

  The half-blind boxer had injured him, and Sparks were freed as a result. Losing control meant losing this world and its energy would scatter throughout the abyss. This would not do. He must regenerate and re-absorb what was lost.

  Even now, below layers of bedrock, he can sense the two men and the mongrel. Now, more than ever, he needs to consume. By focusing inward, he gathers what available energy there is, and cultivates it deep within his belly. He’s done this before, become a small reactor, long ago when the realm outside the Other was first divided.

  Hunger is the Mayor’s only companion as he dreams of supremacy.
<
br />   ><><

  The warmth of the sun peeking through the blinds upon his face. Hands trembling as they reach for the gun. Cold steel against his temple. The click of the trigger, the firing pin hitting the primer, explosions of gun powder. Pain mixed with color. Color turning to black. Sobs in the darkness.

  He’d been walking along the road and almost tripped over a corpse that resembled a human form albeit for the bottom half that was melded into the uneven asphalt. The mouth was twisted into an expression of anguish.

  His companion was in stride. This time his eyes showed nothing and his face was equally expressionless. “You checked out for awhile.”

  The truth was that he’d come to a realization, one that brought dread. His trek, to return home, was helpless. “I know why I’m here.”

  “That quick, huh? It took me a long time to remember anything.”

  He dodged another body that was face down into the black top. “I killed myself. Took my 22 and put one right in my head.”

  Herb showed no reaction. By now, they’d reached the outskirts of town. A ridge lined with white maple trees faced a drop to an open field covered with blossoms that were attractive despite the gloom. The shadow of a structure, perhaps a building, loomed in the distance.

  “You’re not dead.” He looked at him and continued. “I know. I’ve been here long enough to know. Call it a sensitivity. You were pulled into here like me.”

  “I don’t know if I want to go back. My parents-the pain I caused them must have been terrible.”

  Herb had been looking ahead, out into the field. When he turned to him, there was a brief sparkle. “Then go back and fix the damage you’ve done. Not everyone gets a second chance here. Maybe we can both do some good.

  “I won’t apologize. I would have used you to get out of here but I knew he wouldn’t honor his agreement. I’m not a hero-you want one, watch a western.”

  Tommy, reached down and scratched Midnight’s muzzle. The dog had been silent, probably sensing the tension between the men. He rubbed his head on Tommy trying to provide his master some comfort.

  “How do we get back?”

  Herb looked forward again. “Your hospital is on the other side of that hill.” With that, he walked toward a grove of trees on the opposite side of the road.

  Tommy followed, almost jogging to keep up. “Where are you going?”

  “The hospital will be guarded. Whatever forces the mayor has left will be stationed there. There’s a helipad on the roof and a helicopter can bring us there.”

  Herb reached a thicket of bushes stacked high that seemed out of place. A metal blade was partially visible. “But how did you….”

  A smile cracked the tough leather of the boxer’s face. “I put it here.”

  ><><

  He stripped some of the branches off the hull of the helicopter, a blind that he’d made simply as a precaution. It was presently a lifeless hunk of steel, its power sapped like all other forms of energy in the Bad Place when the Mayor rebooted. Detection was unlikely. He never experienced a hard boot like that before. Everything, for a few moments, had not only warped but dimmed. Even now, features of the trees and the helicopter lacked definition and color. Had he known a blow to the reactor would have caused such an effect, he’d have done it long ago. Yet, something told him that the Mayor was vulnerable before the offensive. He had cached energy no doubt for his intended conduit to the Other. That conduit was still a blueprint and those reserves would now be needed to sustain the Bad Place, let alone extend it.

  The boy was stable enough to make it. At times he had wondered about him, fearing that doubt and guilt would divert him from the current path of escape to one of insanity. After all, what was the brain, but a collection of fragile electrical impulses.

  He didn’t care if the kid made it for his own salvation, but rather to prove that it could be done. His own door didn’t exist despite exhaustive efforts to prove to himself that it did. But if he could be someone else’s…

  He climbed into the cockpit and then moved to a seat behind it. Tommy looked at him perplexed and then shook his head. “I don’t know how to fly this thing.”

  “Your energy’s what’s needed to juice the copter up. When you grasp the controls, make them part of you just like these gloves are part of my arms. Then, you’ll fly it.”

  Tommy continued to shake his head. He leaned forward, struggling to hide his growing desperation. “I can’t do it, Tommy. Your energy is stronger than mine. Its glow is almost blinding.” He adjusted his goggles before continuing. “Tommy is the sniffling boy from the Other-the boy filled with fear but lacking in passion. Be Meathooks, kid.”

  The younger man’s lip trembled and then stopped. He could feel the turmoil within him, panic versus resolve, and for the first time in a very long time, was filled with sympathy. Tommy sat down in the cockpit and grasped the controls. They turned orange and then red, seeming to melt around his beefy fingers. The helicopter shook and there was a whirl as air was dissected by steel. The blades spun overheard.

  Even with goggles on, Herb could not look at Tommy. Light flowed from him filling the mechanical carcass as it lifted from the ground.

  ><><

  Young Tommy sitting in his yard on a warm sunny summer day, experiencing the pure joy of a five year old free from adult burdens. His mother is an angel, her blond hair flowing across her shoulder onto her bright green dress. She is making comical noises of an engine as she pushes the truck across the grass. His father laughs in the background as he skillfully flips burgers with a skillet. His own lips vibrate as he mimics the sounds of a helicopter. The plastic blades of the toy spin slowly from a breeze….

  An impact pummels the helicopter and it begins to stall and dip. He concentrated and the panel lit up again, and they gained altitude. It was going to be a short flight but an exhausting one. He felt depleted as the machine fed off his hot-wired hands.

  There was another jolt and this time when he pulled up on the controls, there was no change. He was vaguely aware of Herb yelling something but he couldn’t tell what under the whine of the helicopter matched by the buzzing in his ears. There was movement behind him and then a rush of air into the cockpit. He turned long enough to see Midnight barking through where the door once was and the featureless faces up at him. The Brands had formed a ladder, each one atop the other’s shoulder that reached from the ground to the landing skids. A pudgy figure climbed up with amazing speed. Each “rung” glowed when he passed it. The man’s spectacles glowed.

  When he turned forward, he was relieved that the hospital was close enough that he could see the red marker of the helipad. That relief quickly disappeared as he realized that the current flight path would lead into the side of the hospital rather than on top of it. There was an anchor that needed to be released. Sharp fingers dug into his neck pulling him away from the controls.

  Herb’s one glove held onto the back of a seat as he brought the other down onto the head of the Brand on top. The ladder shortened for a moment, and then regained its height as another brand joined the link. He repeated the blows but was no match for the ever growing numbers that rose into the helicopter. They piled inside and the boxer was a human windmill batting against the current.

  There was a hum as the Mayor stepped onto the heads of his subordinates and through the opening. His eye regarded him with distain-part of his face was missing or appeared to lack the detail needed to determine what it was. Spear tipped fingers rose through the hatch, reaching for him and worm-like wires wiggled from underneath the nails searching for a host.

  A black shadow hit the boarding pile including the Mayor and they tumbled out of the opening. He barely felt the pain when he ripped his hands off the controls. His screams were lost in the wind and gloved arms held him back as his dog fell taking the Brand ladder with him.

  ><><

  He was aware of the loudening hum of the rotors as they gained altitude and the whistling wind as it passed through the open do
orway of the cabin. He could see the building becoming larger upon the approach, the helipad a beacon in the darkness. He saw these things but all were imprinted with the image of Midnight, and his last loving gaze as he’d disappeared into the dark sky. The abrupt change to night reflected the heavy, dark cloak of sorrow around his heart. Even in a world of madness where all things were distorted, the love between a man and his dog had remained untainted.

  Herb sat behind him and said nothing.

  The impending battle was a battle for his soul but what of it? If he won, he faced the consequences of his cowardly act in the Other. Suicide? He hadn’t even done that right-another task incomplete. If he lost, then he was trapped here while his family mourned somewhere else. The only true salvation was the possibility that this was all an alcohol induced dream and that he was home in bed, unemployed but healthy. That possibility waned with very moment he spent in this terrible place.

  Slowly, he worked the controls and set the metal bird down quietly. He killed the motor and looked out of the glass but saw nothing. Somehow, that was worse.

  “Be ready,” Herb breathed. His voice sounded strange but he didn’t know if was actually different or his own perception was off. He didn’t trust his senses at the moment.

  There was hardly a sound as his slippers padded across the blacktop roof. It was windy but he didn’t feel cold. They jogged to the only door. It was wide enough to fit a gurney and a polished vinyl ramp led to a bank of elevators. Harsh fluorescent lights bathed them in yellow as they moved silently along the corridor. In the glow, he noticed for the first time the deep crevices in the boxer’s forehead, thickness around the eyes and the determined set of his jaw. How many blows had he taken in his other life?

  He pressed the down button and there was an immediate buzzing as the numbers across the digital screen above the doors increased rapidly from 1 to 2 and then 3. The numbers continued to change so quickly that they appeared to dance against the black background. A sign against the wall read 14. Tommy looked at Herb.