A Billion Days of Earth

by Piserchia, Doris

  The old servant said, “What a silly thing to say.” He fluffed the pillows around the sick man, straightened the cover, took up a thin paw and felt the pulse. “Did you have another bad dream, sir?”

  Six whimpered. He couldn’t take his eyes off the wrinkled face. With a sense of wonder, he realized he had never really looked at this man before. Why—he was so old!

  “Poor Jub, what have we done to you?” he said weakly.

  “Don’t distress yourself, sir.”

  “I’m going to die.”

  “Not today. Your pulse is nice and steady.”

  “Goodhearted liar. What would I have done without you?”

  “Found another to take my place.”

  “How cruel the truth!” wailed the Filly. “It’s truth that makes the world what it is. We should have clung to lies and then our deathbeds wouldn’t be full of maggots.”

  “It may be so, but then we can’t bear to look at worms, so we’ll have the truth. It paints a pretty picture, if you let it.” The metal fingers hesitated on the fine coverlet. “You ought to let the brush stroke freely. Don’t hold it back. A man deserves whatever beauty he can get.”

  Filly Six shrank back against the pillow. His eyelids fluttered and his mouth quivered. “Lies! I’m sick of them. All my life I’ve heard lies.”

  “Because you cling to the bed,” said Jub. “Sometimes we have to force ourselves into the world, cut out our niche and jump in it. Staying in this bed makes it hard for you to find your niche.”

  “I can’t get up! It’s so ugly. My stomach hurts and I can’t breathe. Somehow I know that if I get up I’ll have to leave this room, leave this place altogether.” Six began to weep. “I’ll have to leave the Estate and I’ve never done that. I know there’s an army of ghouls waiting for me to step off the property. They’ll rip and tear at me till there’s nothing left, if I go.”

  “Stay in your bed, then. There are no ghouls here.”

  “There are! I see them when I close my eyes, or I used to. Now I see them when I’m awake.” Six squinted up at the old man. “You’re one of them. You’re one of the ghouls.”

  “Me, sir? Me who cleaned your nose and showed you your first living hill?”

  The wasted paws of Six moved restlessly on the coverlet. “But that’s it. That’s what makes a ghoul. He’s unique. You murder him and then you shoot something into his veins that makes him walk and talk.” The paw groped for the servant. “Do you see?”

  Jub’s eyes were suddenly opaque and still. “Yes, I see. I always have.”

  Six shrank. “You wouldn’t take your revenge? I’m a dying man, and besides I had nothing to do with it. I hate them all. You believe that, don’t you?”

  And lived like a king all the while you were hating—so thought Jub; immediately, he was surprised at himself. “Your imagination is haywire this morning and you’re working yourself up over nothing. As if I’d ever harm you when we’ve been together all these years.”

  Six lay as if his body were boneless. The hollows around his eyes were black and more than ever his head resembled a skull with dirty skin stretched over it. Only his eyes were alive, the eyes of a fanatic who saw a new and strange road in the distance. The mind in the skull mewed like a sick zizzy.

  “I’ve never been together with anyone or anything,” he said. “Not you, not my brothers, not even my wife. She loathes me. Somehow I don’t mind that. I think it’s because she isn’t a ghoul. She’s like me—crushed against the wall by an army of maddened souls.”

  The door opened. Jub furtively laid his paw over the mouth of Filly Six. With lowered head he turned, nodded at Filly One, left the room.

  Six tried to sit up but fell back with an exhausted sigh. His eyes blazed as he recognized the visitor. “Goddamn you!”

  “For heaven’s sake,” said Filly One.

  “Yes, for heaven’s sake.” Six looked at his brother. “You’re a mountain of a man, Filly One, but you’re made of tinsel.”

  “I’m not, and you know it.”

  “Bullshit.” Six grinned as the other frowned. “You never did like my vocabulary.”

  “You picked it up from the servants, though I’ve expressly forbidden them—”

  “Expressly! You sound like a train, but a train speeds and is made of steel. You’re all bullshit and you stand like a stupid animal.”

  Filly One fingered his brow. “Please—”

  “Don’t ‘please’ me, you stiff-necked turd. I’m a dying man and I can say anything I want, and I want to tell you I have no respect for you.”

  One pulled up a chair, sat down and crossed his legs, settled the crease in his pants with a pat. “I have the utmost respect for your opinions, or I did have until lately. You’ve the vapors these days, exactly like a silly woman—”

  “That’s all there are in this whorehouse!” yelled Six. “Silly women! Half of us have flies on our pants but there’s not a damned thing behind them. The last Filly who had balls died a century ago.”

  “For God’s sake—”

  “Don’t ‘God’ me. If he showed his face here, you’d sterilize him and put him to work pruning your blue roses.”

  Filly One sat quietly but his eyelids were white and gleaming.

  Six puffed his pillow with surprising alacrity, slammed the coverlet with a paw, chuckled out loud. “Looking at your dead kisser puts piss and vinegar in my veins. Don’t raise your eyebrows, bub. As far as I’m concerned, you’re my kid brother whose ass I should have booted a long time ago.” Six stared with open hatred. “Look at it,” he said bluntly. “See it? Understand it? What do I think of you?”

  “That has never been a secret to me or anyone else.”

  “Know why I despise you?”

  “You were born to be Filly One. You were the first son of our father. Unfortunately your brains were addled. You decided you’d rather go to bed than be the leader. Every once in a while you become enraged at yourself for abdicating—”

  “You silly asshole, I abdicated because the first time I stood up and took a good sniff with my nose I got a terrific whiff of shit.”

  One smiled. “If you didn’t like it, why didn’t you leave?”

  “Where would I go to get rid of the smell? Is there any place on this planet that the stench of the Fillys doesn’t reach?”

  “I’m grateful to you for stepping down.”

  “Don’t I know it? But I did it as no favor to you.” Six leaned back and closed his eyes. “Never mind any more bullshit. Save it for Two; he’s developed a taste for it.” The burning eyes flicked open. “That interest I’m getting on the little wad in First National—I want it turned over to the organ-transplant foundation.”

  Filly One didn’t wince. The interest represented nearly a quarter-million.

  “If you don’t want to do it, I’ll hire myself another flunky,” said Six.

  “I’ll do it. I always carry out your wishes.”

  “All except one. You still haven’t shot yourself.”

  Standing, One said, “Is that all?”

  “No, it ain’t all. Sit down.” One sat again and Six glared at him for a moment. “What have you been up to?”

  “What—”

  “I have people who are loyal to me!” Six gathered himself as if for an onslaught. His eyes narrowed and his teeth bared. “My goddamn mail is mine and I’m sick of your tampering with it.” A skinny paw flapped. “No bullshit! I never said anything before because I didn’t give a damn, but I’m beginning to take a new look at things. Lately the smell of shit is making me gag. I’ve had my mail diverted to keep it away from the mangy likes of you.”

  Filly One sat motionless.

  “I got a very damned funny letter, so I ask you what you’ve been up to?”

  “What kind of letter?”

  “From an expert in the language, I’ll tell you. No bullshit from him.”

  “Stop beating about the bush.”

  “The letter concerned a certain subject that
has to do with genes.” The expression on the face of Six was watchful. “Does that ring a bell?”

  “Should it?”

  “You hired that man to do a job. You went over my head to do it. Family affairs are my business, even half-assed ones, and you had no right to do it without consulting me.”

  “You were ill. I didn’t go over your head, and it wasn’t a family matter. I’m not trying to relieve you of your responsibilities.”

  “Liar.” The face of Six twisted in a scowl. “What’s behind that letter?”

  “The man was … is … an expert in … genealogy.”

  “Took you long enough to get that out.”

  “I hired him to trace some obscure branches of the family tree. Does that sound important enough for me to have consulted you?”

  “What obscure branches?” said Six.

  “There are some, you know. The archives aren’t perfect.”

  “You making it a hobby or something?”

  “Why not?” said One.

  “What about your blue roses?”

  “There are twenty-four hours in the day. You can’t expect me to spend all of them in the gardens.”

  “Only an idiot would spend any in those allergy nests.”

  Filly One stood up. “I’m being patient with you, more, I’ll admit, out of respect for our father—”

  “Who hated your white guts!” yelled Six.

  One turned and walked swiftly from the room.

  Filly Six glared at the closed door for a full minute before he looked at a dark corner to the right of his bed. “Papa,” he said softly, and after a while he thought he saw a gray and misty cloud begin to appear. He waited until the cloud assumed the proportions he desired and then he spoke again.

  “One is up to something, Papa. I think it’s bad this time. I hope you’ll stand by me. I have the feeling a great deal depends upon what I do. First, I’ll have to investigate the letter. That won’t be easy since the man who wrote it is dead. One had him killed. I wish the letter had been more specific. But we know a lot of things my brother doesn’t. We know about loyalty, don’t we, Papa? That’s something I never told One, and I trust you aren’t going to chastise me about it again. Poor brother. He doesn’t know that whatever I set out to do, I get it done because this Estate is crawling with people who would die for me. As long as I hold onto that little medallion you gave me, I’m Filly One. Poor brother. He thinks he wears the crown because I told him he did.”

  Did the cloud seethe or was it only his imagination? Six shivered. “Forgive me, Papa, but I’ve always hated what we are. I can’t bear cruelty. One has been a good leader because he can shut off his soul from the sounds around him. I never could do that. I could never bring myself to tell him about the medallion and the oath all of us took that night when you were dying. I wear it always. Did you know that? I’ve never forgotten my promise. You were always proud of me and you don’t have to be afraid I’ll betray our heritage. The Filly line will go on uncontaminated forever, I swear.”

  Papa had nothing to say.

  Redo squeezed the gold knob of his cane. He was content. The wine was refreshing, the room was cool and comfortable, and his good friend Elu was going to ask a favor of him. Since he intended to receive a favor in return, perhaps soon, perhaps later, the day was a successful one. He never liked to see a day finished before a new piece of business had been transacted. This would probably be a little piece of business but mountains were only big mounds of little bits of granite.

  “Health,” said Elu, sipping his wine. “You are comfortable?”

  “Very.”

  Elu’s gaze slid around the room. “Ah, God, it has been a fine day, eh?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Your family is well?”

  “Extremely so. And yours?”

  “Ah, God,” said Elu. His seamed faced was a wreck. He had been born tired. Only his mind was alive. It had been said that he was the ugliest man in the world. His face was a series of blobs that resembled brown dough. He had a bulging chin, swollen cheeks, bags under his eyes and bulbous ears. His forehead hung over his face like a loaf of bread.

  He looked across the table with an apologetic expression. “It is time to make the confession.”

  “I’m a priest?”

  “Not that kind of confession.” Elu waved a listless paw. “A little indiscretion I committed many years ago concerning you.”

  Redo sat and sipped his wine. The stillness in the room was good. Faint cooking odors lingered in the air. The wife of his friend was an excellent cook.

  “It is my wife,” said Elu, as if reading the other’s mind. “It was to her I made the indiscretion.”

  “Your indiscretions are notoriously insignificant.”

  “Yet the mote is more worrisome than the beam.”

  “True.”

  “You are a man of distinction.”

  Redo smiled.

  “So well-read,” said Elu.

  “Yes.”

  Elu sighed, sat back in his chair. “Many years ago my wife asked me how you made your living. My response to her was the indiscretion. I told her you were a detective.”

  Redo nodded.

  “Is it not shameful that a grown man couldn’t do better than that?” said Elu. “I should have poked her in the eye and told her to mind her own business.”

  Redo drank and said nothing.

  Elu frowned. “I grieve because it sounds so stupid. Also I grieve because the mind of woman is like a clam. Nothing ever leaks out of it. Whatever she hears she stores away inside the two shells and they seal together for eternity. Woman forgets nothing.”

  “That is the way they are.”

  “They will be the death of us. We get away with nothing because they never forget the idlest word or gesture. We work ourselves into the grave, dying while we are still young men, and our wives sit on our coffins with their clam-minds full of enough memories to last them another lifetime.”

  “Perhaps that is why they outlive us,” said Redo. “They always have something to think about.”

  Elu glared at his empty glass, took his time filling it again. “The mountain of meat that is my wife was once a glorious creature with flesh like the white pearl. I could not love her enough. I adored her.” Gloom shadowed Elu’s face. “I still adore that mountain of meat as much as I did in my youth. It wasn’t her body but her spirit that won me.”

  “You would do anything she asked.”

  “I would be loyal to her above all else in this world, save for one thing: my solemn oath to you and my kind. But this doesn’t detract from my love for my wife, because my solemn oath is my soul and without my soul I am a dead man and of no use to any woman.”

  Redo thought it had been very well put.

  Said Elu, “My youngest son, little Chik, is missing now for three days. The mountain of meat in this household is crying the rafters down. From her clam-brain she drags the memory of my words of two decades ago. She must have the best detective in the land to search for her son. Forgive me, my friend, I told her you were the best tracer in the universe. Forgive me. I ask you to become a cheap snooper. It is deplorable. I ask your pardon. You should refuse me and wipe your shoes clean of this house as you go out the door.”

  “Little Chik, eh? Where has he gone to?”

  “Who knows? He isn’t the best of my sons, but I’ve given my promise.”

  “He stays away often?”

  “Never for three days. Something has happened to him and if you don’t bring him back, his mother will slay us all with her grief. I could hire a hundred detectives but she wouldn’t be satisfied. So it is to you I’ve come. All because women have clams where their brains should be.”

  Redo gripped his cane and stood. “I’ll do it.”

  Elu turned red. “What can a man do but go to his friends when he is in need?”

  “I suspect it won’t be much of a task.”

  “These women, they make a farce of living.”
<
br />   “He’s probably holed up somewhere with acquaintances.”

  “I should tell her to shut her mouth.”

  “You love your wife.”

  Elu slumped in the chair. “I love my wife. I also love her sons, but I’m going to beat the hell out of her baby when I see him. He is no good.”

  chapter vii

  Rik loved Aril. He had always loved her. In spite of her illness, he hadn’t stopped caring. The poor damned woman was being driven crazy by the same things that made maniacs of them all.

  Today he was laughing with genuine humor. “You’re kidding me, Aril,” he said, laughing again. “Come on now, a joke is a joke, but don’t carry the hilarity too far.”

  Aril looked at him in confusion. She fumbled at the scarf around her shoulders. Her mouth moved jerkily but no words came.

  “What I mean to say is, cut out this crap you’re telling me, because it really isn’t funny!”

  The mouth of Aril drooped, the face of Aril pinched with concentrated effort, the eyes of Aril narrowed as if the vision were too distant. At the moment she was mad as a hatter.

  “Stop telling me that!” Rik’s mind tried to recuperate from the punch she had delivered. He peered into the crimson fog in front of his eyes, attempted to find something sane and tangible. There was no logic anywhere but in reality, so reality must be hiding. All he had to do was find it.

  The red fog became purple. Of course it was true. The thing of it was that it was fact. Aril never lied. She was too goddamn mean to lie.

  “You stupid bitch, how the hell could you believe for one second that you were a virgin?” he yelled.

  “The cleansing ritual. There were no virgins in the group. Someone had to sacrifice.”

  Wildly, Rik looked about. His gaze fell upon his own arm stretched out in the air. Maddened by the sight of it he sank his teeth in it. The pain felt good. He laughed, liked the sound, did it again. “So Brog did a little hocus pocus over your head and you were convinced!”

  “That and the weed he gave us convinced me.”

  “Shut up! I want to understand this.” He paced the room for a few minutes. Finally he went back to stand before her. “That pack of nuts decided they wanted Luvon to produce an heir, and they figured the only way to manage it was for some virgin to shack up with him, but since he isn’t too randy they put his spirit into Brog and then they made you the virgin.”