Goodbye Lucifer

by John Harold McCoy

  * * *

  Jack Harris had gotten out of his car, and was looking up towards the springs.

  “Just go before he decides to walk up here.”

  Amanda was adamant. “Mel, this is my daughter’s first experience with powers. You want me to miss that?” Her voice was forceful and final.

  “Oh,” said Melanie, suddenly realizing the fact, “…no, of course not. Sorry. But we gotta do something to keep him from coming up here.”

  “Oh hell, I’ll go charm the officer,” said Claudia, smirking. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll turn him into a toad.”

  “I’d rather have a handsome prince,” joked Amanda.

  Claudia smiled, “I’ll see what I can do,” and walked towards the break in the trees and the stalled police car.

  Quackrak had gone along without a fuss when the two insane people he’d met on the big flat rock had dragged him down the trail to the stone house. When they’d made him sit on the floor while they jabbered with three other ones—who seemed marginally less insane—he’d sat patiently waiting to see what would happen next. When the whole bunch of them walked him all the way back to where he’d started from, Quackrak began to get bored. So far, all he’d done was walk, listen to people squawk at each other, and walk some more. At least what was happening now seemed to have some kind of purpose. The insane people had formed a line, Quackrak in the middle, the shorter ones with a tendency to screech—the ones he’d met originally—on each side of him, and a taller one on either end. The third tall one had gone off somewhere. Each of the screechy ones held one of his hands.

  Melanie stood beside Jilly, her hand resting reassuringly on her daughter’s shoulder. Amanda was beside Patty, her daughter’s hand in hers.

  Melanie said, “Are you ready?”

  Both girls nodded, nervously.

  “All right, just relax…no pressure, no hurry…just one, calm, step at a time. Both of you follow along with me.”

  “Shouldn’t we be out on the rock?” Jilly asked.

  “No, this is close enough. Okay, here we go. Think back to the instant you first saw your little friend.”

  Amanda grinned. “Say hello to my lil’ frin’,” she said whimsically, mimicking Pacino in Scarface.

  “Mom!” exclaimed Patty; “This is serious!”

  “Mrs. Clark!” Jilly looked surprised, and a little flustered by Amanda’s joke. Amanda smiled and put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders.

  With a soothing tone, she said, “I know, I know, but sweetheart, you need to relax. You’re stiff as a board, okay? You too, Jilly.”

  Melanie smiled in agreement, waited for the girls to compose themselves, then continued.

  “Again, imagine the instant you first saw the demon. Put that picture in your minds.” She paused a moment. “Got it?”

  Both girls nodded.

  “Now, imagine time as a line; a line between the instant he appeared, and the instant just before he appeared. Imagine that you can reach out and push him back along that line.”

  She waited a second, “Okay?”

  Again, the girls nodded.

  “Now, push!” she ordered.

  Quackrak disappeared.

  Lemonade. Every time Harris saw Claudia Meljac—Anta, as he remembered her—he could almost taste it. Aunt Claudia’s lemonade in the summertime when there was no school, and not a worry in the world—he and Claudia’s nephew, Karol. And there was Dennis Clark, Amanda Billings, and Melanie Walker, whose father owned the drug store on the corner. There were the other kids from Brandell and Stillman, all of them grown now, most gone elsewhere to bigger cities, greener pastures—Karol and Dennis…dead.

  Jack Harris grew up in Stillman Township, which sported one of the few interstate on/off ramps for Princeton County. The school, and the county’s main Post Office, several garages, a small motel, and a scattering of other businesses served the county’s modest farm and dairy industry—modest because of the scarcity of flat land in that part of West Virginia.

  Jack’s friendship with Karol Meljac and Dennis Clark had started in the 9th grade. The boys had known each other all through school, but it wasn’t till they started junior varsity football—the three of them, especially Dennis Clark, excelling at the game—that they became close friends.

  Jack had been a big boy, tall and strong, ideal for the sport—Karol and Dennis not so big, but fast and gutsy. The game brought them together, and the three boys became inseparable.

  Then one day, up popped the devil. Not the fabled one from Hell, but the one that captured and imprisoned Jack’s soul as completely as could the real devil himself. The one with the sun-streaked, wheat colored hair and deep, shining, brown eyes. The one with the angelic face and the body ripe with the fresh fullness of youth. Fifteen-year-old Amanda Billings.

  In the 8th grade, Amanda was skinny, gawky, knobby kneed and klutzy. Still, she was well liked by the other kids and not too worried about her appearance, except when it came to boys. She had no interest in Karol Meljac, at least not in that way. Being next-door neighbors, they had played together and fussed and fought together as children, and she didn’t see him as anything but, well…just Karol. Besides that, Karol and Melanie Walker had been sweethearts since grade school, so even if she had thought of him that way, it wouldn’t have mattered.

  The boys who Amanda did think of that way were Jack Harris, and to a slightly lesser extent, Dennis Clark. But, Jack and Dennis were football stars—only junior varsity, but still, Dennis and Jack could have practically any girlfriend they wanted…certainly not gawky, klutzy, Amanda Billings. Then miraculously, over the summer of her fifteenth year, and as often happens with teenage girls, Amanda suddenly blossomed: the gawkiness of early teen years fading away, replaced by the fullness and beauty of young womanhood.

  Amanda, used to being as she’d always been, didn’t see the change in herself, but the boys did, and while Jack stood by, too shy to act, Amanda gave her heart to Dennis Clark.

  The teen years passed. Karol and Melanie were the first to marry—Amanda and Dennis next. Jack tucked his feelings for Amanda away in a hidden place and went on with life. Then in no time at all, a girl from Stillman with music in her voice and sunshine in her hair changed Jack’s world and for a time, Jack and Janice Harris, Karol and Melanie Meljac, and Dennis and Amanda Clark were happy. But, happiness can be fleeting, and loss can be sudden…for Melanie, as sudden as Karol’s tragic accident on the road by the river—for Amanda, a meaningless war in a meaningless place…Dennis lost in its violence.

  Jack and Janice had, after a few years, drifted apart—love fading into the habit of being together. But that wasn’t enough, and they divorced. They both worked at the sheriff’s station in Stillman, and remained close friends—and occasionally, lovers between other affairs.

  Life went on in Princeton County.

  Lemonade…so long ago, but he could almost taste it, now.

  “No,” he said to Claudia, “…no particular reason. To be honest, I was just gonna drive up there, and sit a few minutes in peace…just a little breather. You wouldn’t believe the stuff people are pulling, today. Just another day over in Stillman, but in Brandell? …Jeez!”

  Claudia wanted to say, “oh, yes I would,” but thought better of it.

  “Anyway, the car just stopped.” Harris scratched his head, “Figures.”

  A feather-like voice in Claudia’s head whispered, “We’re done.”

  She said to Harris, “Uh, Louis Walker’s car does that sometimes. He says it gets a little overheated, but if you let it cool a few minutes, it’s okay. Why don’t you try it again, now?”

  Harris said, “Won’t hurt to try.” He got in the car, and turned the key. The car started right up.

  “Huh!” he grunted, “How about that?”

  The radio crackled, “Unit 2, are you available?”

  Harris snatched up the mic and said, “This is Unit 3, go ahead.”

  “Jack?” came from th
e radio.

  “Yeah,” he answered.

  “Oh, baby, you’re gonna love this one!”

  Harris keyed the mic, grinning. “Janice, did it ever occur to you that this is an official police frequency, and ‘oh, baby, you’re gonna love this one,’ as well as just about everything else you say, is not exactly official communications protocol?” He was chuckling to himself.

  The radio sizzled static, “Oh, dry up, Jack. You love me and you know it,” she teased. “Anyway, are you ready?”

  “Go ahead,” he said.

  “Louis Walker just threw somebody out of Walker’s Drugs.”

  “So? It’s his drug store.”

  “Through the plate glass window, Jack!”

  Claudia gasped. “What? …David’s with his grandpa!”

  Melanie had never seen Aunt Claudia run, before. The sight of her in a pretty good trot up the trail, and through the break in the trees, was almost comical.

  Jilly and Patty, jumping up and down, exuberant over their successful initiation, spotted Claudia.

  “Anta, Anta, we did it! We sent him back.”

  Claudia, out of breath, was waving, frantically.

  “Come quick,” she yelled.

  FIFTEEN

  QUACKRAK CAME TUMBLING through the portal door. He hit the floor with a loud, “omph!” and rolled head over heels across the room before coming to rest in a tangled heap against the side of Lucifer’s desk.

  “That was rude!” he bellowed.

  He pushed away from the desk, untangled his limbs, and rolled over onto his back. He lay there, dazed and dizzy, waiting for the stars and sparkles in his eyes and the ringing in his ears to go away. When his head cleared, he looked up at the circle of curious demons that had gathered ’round and were staring down at him.

  “What are you looking at?” he yelled. The demons scattered.

  Quackrak sat up and rubbed at a few bumps and bruises; nothing too serious, just a few tender spots. He stood up and shook off the last of the fuzziness.

  “So,” he muttered to himself, “…that was the people world. A little short on hospitality, I’d say.” Surely, everybody up there couldn’t be as insane as the bunch he’d run into. Maybe he’d merely stumbled into one of those “wrong place, wrong time” things. It just didn’t make sense that everybody up there was loony-tunes—had to be just that bunch. He was tempted to try it again. It was either that, or go back to his cubicle and stare at the soul sorter for another hundred years. The more he thought about it, the more tempted he got.

  What the heck, he thought.

  This time, he popped out by the picnic table instead of on the flat rock, which was good since even though the rock was only about ten feet from shore, Quackrak wasn’t too keen on swimming.

  Quickly, he ducked down and squeezed under the wooden table to avoid being grabbed by the crazy bunch, again. Not much of a hiding place, but as it turned out, unnecessary. The crazy bunch was gone. He waited a few minutes to make sure. Yep, they were gone.

  Relieved, he crawled out from under the table. Satisfied that he was really alone, he sat down on one of the wooden benches to figure out what to do next. He hadn’t planned anything particular other than staying away from the crazy bunch. All he really wanted was to look around, check things out—no big deal. He figured he’d wander back down the trail towards the houses, keeping out of sight, and just see what there was to see.

  The afternoon sun had set and evening shadows were creeping down the side of the mountain. Quackrak was glad for that—easier to avoid being seen.

  A slight “pop” came from the direction of the springs. He glanced towards the water.

  Another “pop.”

  Quackrak jumped up, gaping towards the springs.

  “No, no!” he yelled at the two demons who’d popped out on the flat rock.

  He scurried to the edge of the water, jumping up and down, waving his arms and hollering, “Back! Go back!”

  The two demons just stood there staring, stupidly. Two more pops, and two more demons appeared on the, suddenly, too crowded rock. The newcomers teetered precariously on the edge, grasping at the other two.

  One more “pop” was one too many and the whole bunch toppled into the very, very cold water.

  SIXTEEN

  THE TALL MIDDLE-AGED MAN Melanie and Claudia had encountered coming out of the drug store earlier that day sat on the curb rubbing his shoulder. Broken glass from the side window of the store covered the sidewalk around him.

  “No, no…Mr. Walker didn’t touch me,” He was speaking to Jack Harris. “It was my own fault. I was ranting and stomping around…tripped over my own stupid feet and fell through the damned thing.”

  Harris was kneeling beside the man. He asked, “Can you stand up?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay, just a little bruised, and embarrassed as hell.” The man stood up, brushing pieces of glass from his clothing.

  From the street, the red, blue and white strobe lights on top of Harris’ cruiser turned the shards of glass covering the sidewalk into a field of multi-colored stars and cast surreal shadows into the gloom of Stillman Road.

  Louis Walker stood a few feet away from Harris and the tall man. He said, “Jack, can you turn those things off? We’ll have the whole town down here gawking around.”

  Harris was looking the tall man over. “You’re sure you’re all right?” The man nodded, still rubbing his shoulder.

  “Fine…really,” he said.

  Harris looked the man up and down again, then turned and walked around to the driver’s side of his car. He reached inside and flipped a switch on the dashboard. The stars on the sidewalk dulled in the dim reflection of the single street light across Stillman Road.

  Harris came back around to the sidewalk. He looked at Louis. “Anything you want to do about this, Louis?” Then to the tall man, “Or you?”

  Louis said, “Well, I can let it go. It was an accident, more or less. Insurance will take care of the window; if that’s all right with Mr. Simmons, here.” He looked at the other man, “You okay with that?”

  John Simmons brushed the last of the glass from the front of his shirt. “That’s fine with me. No problem. I have to admit, though, it was my fault.” He looked puzzled, frowning. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. The slightest little thing sets me off, and I’m not like that at all. Look, Mr. Walker, I’m really sorry. If I hadn’t come back…arguing about the prescription and being such an ass about it…just stupid.”

  Louis was thinking about the day—about people’s strange behavior.

  He said, “Mr. Simmons, why don’t you come in the store and have some coffee. You too, Jack.”

  Harris said, “Then we’re all through with this, right? No charges? Everybody’s happy?”

  Simmons nodded. “Yeah, and yes, I could do with some coffee right now.”

  Louis said to Harris, “Yes, Jack, we’re okay with it.”

  Harris turned towards his car. “Good. That’s it then. Just let me take the car around front and I’ll be right with you. I need a break too.”

  Except for the few necessary modernizations, like the computerized prescription tracking equipment, modern refrigeration and the pressurized soda dispensers, the interior of Walker’s Drug Store had not changed in sixty years. Louis kept it the way it was in his father’s time, and his grandfather’s time before that. He figured if people wanted modern they could go to Charleston. This was Brandell and they could take it or leave it.

  The soda fountain didn’t lend any profit to his business and the four small tables in front of the counter weren’t used as much as they once were. But it had always been as it was, and Louis liked to think of his store as kind of an unofficial landmark of sorts: quasi-historical, he’d tell people, jokingly. He was long past needing profit, anyway.

  When Louis’ grandfather had first opened the store, he and his family had lived in the rooms on the second story of the two-story brick building. Now, some
of the upstairs space was used for storage, but Louis kept enough of it clear of the accumulated junk of decades so he could stay there on the nights when he didn’t feel like facing the empty house out on West Stillman Road. In the space not used for storage there was a small kitchen and a living room, bedroom and bathroom.

  When Louis’ wife died, and later, Mel had married Karol, he’d considered selling the house and moving into the little apartment himself. But somewhere deep in the back of his mind was a vague thought, one that involved Claudia Meljac: nothing he could put his finger on, just…something…and that was as close as he could get to it. But it was enough to keep him from selling the house. Sometimes he laughed at himself for basing the decision on a feeling he couldn’t even identify.

  Another of Louis’ concessions to the 21st century was the Dell with broadband Internet in the small office room behind the prescription counter. Melanie was his official records keeper. She had volunteered years ago and had demanded that he install the computer, threatening to desert her post if he didn’t. So he did, and was glad he did.

  It was Mel who taught him the business end of the machine, but it was Jillian and Patty who showed him how to open the world of unlimited information through the Internet. He often wondered how he’d ever lived without it.

  Right now, David was in the office chasing androids through the metal corridors of an alien spaceship, fingers jabbing frantically at the game controller. He leaned this way and that, back and forth, hunching down and jerking upright, following the action of the spectacular graphics on the Dell’s 21-inch flat screen. Through his headphones, the rat-a-tat pounding of his particle-beam weapon covered the sound of John Simmons’ unceremonious backward plunge through Louis’ plate glass window.