Rolling my eye skyward, I could see the foot belonged to a creature about three feet tall. It appeared humanoid, but with a bloodline that had to have frogs and catfish in its ancestry. The green thing was picking dollar bills out of my wallet, taking bites from a ten or a one hundred. It spit the paper out in disgust and tossed the money into the water. The wallet plopped into the mud nearby.
There were four or five of these creatures, all talking in a language that sounded like every other word was mush or splosh. Their voices were trapped bubbles of water bursting into the air.
There was a pig out in that river with me. Wasn’t there? I was on a bridge. It just broke apart. What happened? I’m alive and this is land. Where’s Audrey? I’ve got to go find help.
My hand sunk into the ooze as I pushed to raise myself. A heavy boot knocked my arm out from under me, and I fell back into the oily, wet slop. My other arm didn’t work. It didn’t feel attached to me anymore.
Boot? Who’s wearing boots?
The frog things were insistent in whatever they were saying. Then I heard the voice of the booted one. It held the same determined threat that had been whispered to me from the stairwell the night I found my knapsack at Monster Alley house.
Some deal had just been struck. The amphibian characters slapped their muddy feet back into the river, and I was rolled over onto my back by a pair of mottled black and red hands.
I looked up into the face of the demon who had yanked Audrey from the car, recognized it as the same fearsome creature who had showed himself to me by the side of the New Jersey Turnpike. He grinned, displaying a row of sharply pointed teeth. His skin had a faint pattern of leopard-like rosettas similar to Filomena’s. There was no doubt this Red Eyes was the alpha male of his crew.
“Don’t worry. I won’t kill you, yet. There’s someone who wants to talk to you.” He felt my lifeless arm. “Broken.”
I couldn’t tell if he was speaking English, but I understood him.
“No tricks.” He pointed to my good arm. “You try mumbo-jumbo, and I’ll splinter that arm too.”
My teeth chattered. “Co... co... cold.”
As he hauled me to my feet, I stared upriver at the wreckage of cars piled on top of each other and the massive twists of metal and roadway jutting up from the muddy water. There appeared to be only sporadic movement of human life. A man was crawling out of the window of his car. A woman stood on the roof of another vehicle, her mouth open, her arms upraised, but I couldn’t hear her prayers or curses. With my mind echoing Audrey’s name, I watched a small section of rounded red metal spinning slowly away from the terrible metal carnage. The Bug had drowned.
“Here, these are yours. The frog people said they couldn’t eat them.” The Cadillac demon handed me my wallet and knapsack. I felt a slender round stick inside the beat-up canvas. One pencil had survived.
The El Dorado’s heater roared, and I was grateful for the warmth. Red Eyes drove, I sat next to him, and there was some kind of presence in the back seat, but I wasn’t able to make out who or what it was.
River crap or something in my eye, but it’s clearing. The warmer I get, the more this arm is killing me.
We drove in silence for hours before turning onto a long driveway lined by sycamore trees. As we approached a two-story stone mansion, I saw the glow of a cigarette in a darkened porch area at the far end of the building.
I can’t say I was surprised.
He was using his trademark greeting to let me know he was waiting.
Chapter 14
Red Eyes led me to a comfortably adorned bedroom and told me Doctor Steel wished me to clean myself up. “The bath is the door to your right. In the closets are jeans, a variety of shirts, underwear, new shoes, and socks. Be assured your arm will be looked at and taken care of soon.”
“You the butler?”
He smiled wickedly.
I had to stay strong. Under the shower, I examined my limp forearm and worried about my ability to survive while in the same house as Red Eyes and Doctor Steel.
Steel sat in a overstuffed armchair in front of a fireplace. The room was mahogany-paneled, richly decorated with framed paintings. I immediately recognized a Watteau landscape, a portrait by Cézanne, and a Caravaggio depiction of a boy playing a lute. A blue-speckled egg about two feet tall stood on the mantel. Set in a corner, a large piece of coral appeared to be a different color every time I looked at it. One wall was a floor to ceiling bookcase.
The creep looked to be in deep thought, but his cold eyes caught and followed my entrance. His voice grated metallically. “Deets, please be seated.”
“Why am I here?”
“It’s time we talked.”
“What happened to Audrey?”
A merciless parting of his lips mocked my concern. “If I knew, I’d let you know. There are other matters—”
“Your lackey yanked her from my wheels.”
“My lackey?”
“Red-eyed, piranha-toothed guy. Rides around in a ‘59 monster El Dorado. Jeeves the butler.”
Steel snickered to himself, swirled the amber liquid in his brandy snifter.
“I know at least one truck driver died on that bridge. Others must have too. Why’d you have to kill? If you wanted to get me, why bring innocent people into it?” I trembled, frightened by the knowledge that the horrific violence was somehow connected to me.
I’m so sorry, Audrey.
“I didn’t harm a soul.”
“What? Red Eyes tore that bridge down.”
Steel calmly took a sip of his drink. “Well, yes, but not at my bidding. Sheoblask is a powerful being. Quite ruthless when he wishes to be. What happened at Silver Bridge is a prime example of the kind of destruction he can render.”
“Why is this beast chasing me?”
“Duty. He’s probing your ability and motivation to travel the tunnels of the gods.”
“What?”
“You’ve aroused the curiosity of a variety of other tunnel jumpers.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Let me fill you in on some background information before we continue on about Sheoblask, who you refer to as Red Eyes, and the catastrophe you survived tonight.”
I looked around the room, evaluating my escape routes, and wondered where the mottled demon had gone to. The fire crackled invitingly, and despite my hesitancy, I sat and leaned back in a very comfortable chair.
“Okay, lay it on me.”
“The tunnels of the gods are like rivers, with tributaries and streams feeding them. They’re constantly moving, changing. You’ve felt their tug, took a small introductory ride, courtesy of Pan. Those that travel in them are not only animate or divine creatures. Emotions, thoughts, and dreams are also sucked into their pull.”
“What are you? My nightmare?”
He held up a finger. “One moment.” He pointed to his glass. “Would you like something to drink? Wine, beer, a soft drink?”
“Yeah, a Pepsi.”
He handed me a glass of soda with ice. “I am a life form, some of my relatives were once human, but I no longer consider myself a member of that species.”
I watched the pop and fizz of the carbonation, didn’t know what to say. Fish Man, Monkey Man, and Pan all had humanoid features. It was easy to believe him, but my overriding concern at that moment was why the sudden candor? “What’s going on, Steel? Why am I here?”
“You first caught Pan’s attention when you were a child. I believe you were three years old. You spotted him as he traveled a god tunnel. We had no clue how you could have this vision without having eaten mushrooms, but you did.”
I remembered the moment. The man with two cows walking through the forest behind my parents’ house had disappeared as I watched. His whistling had entranced me.
“We checked on you occas
ionally over the years without ascertaining how you were born with this innate ability. Nor could we divine your purpose on Earth. After you showed yourself to Pigeon at a coffee house, then to me in the alley, that night back in ‘65, we took to observing you more intently.”
“I didn’t plan—”
Steel dismissed my attempted proclamation of innocent behavior as unnecessary with a slight lift and tilt of his glass.
“I know. You’re here because soon after that night, you were in the vicinity of a catastrophic god-tunnel event. A section had collapsed, rendering a major network useless. When you found the burned pigeon remains in the New York alley, then witnessed Gerald and me a few days later, again in the alley, you were observing the disastrous incident. The cataclysmic occurrence was time-jumping being destroyed. The fact that you saw the burned bird days before the tunnel explosion is testimony to how convoluted the gods temporal passages became. Why and how the bird was caught in the blast is a mystery, but clearly it had been hurled back through time. Another direct consequence you’re familiar with was the appearance of feathers falling from the sky some four hundred years ago over the Caribbean Sea.”
“The miracle of Santa Paloma. I figured it had to be related to the alley in some improbable way. Either something about that dead pigeon or the fight you had with Santa Pigeon.”
“Well, we have our differences, but Gerald and I weren’t battling each other. Your interpretation was distorted. The turbulence that caused the ruination in the tunnels manifested itself as the struggle you witnessed that day in the alley.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We were reacting against the energy that was ripping the tunnel apart, doing our best to repel the unexpected force. Gerald Pigeon is a fine poet, an experienced and ancient portal jumper. He can connect to minor insinuations of a tunnel and use them efficiently. These tunnels crisscross all of creation. Made by the gods, their scope is vast, incomprehensible. Pigeon is an overseer, keeping track of portal use all over this planet. A group of spiders from Peru jump to Nepal, a pilgrim from another planet arrives in Siberia—he’s aware of it. I am a caretaker. I watch the tunnels, clean out debris, redirect the unwanted, and look for traffic or routing problems. We are...” He paused to light a cigarette. “... dissimilar in our philosophies and temperament. Despite our differences, we both are dedicated to making sure there are no jam-ups that may result in unpredictable portal jumps. Over the last few years, we’ve been working together on the dilemmas this tunnel blockage has caused.” He blew smoke in my direction. His eyes glittered with an ever-present sadistic insinuation.
“You’re full of it, Steel. Pigeon’s been helpful, not real forthcoming, but he’d never trust you. You’ve been out to get me or my friends since we first met.”
“He has his reasons for not being around. This is a crisis, you understand. As for your friends, I suppose you’re referring to Betsy’s misfortune and that episode with the charming Gus and Drake.”
“And Johnny, goddamn you.”
“The jungle is where you demonstrated remarkable abilities. Fascinating to observe your survival skills.” He flicked his eyes quickly from my face to my hands and back again. Whatever he had just read in that glance made him frown. He rocked his brandy glass thoughtfully as his gaze steadied.
I had the feeling he was fishing, trying to draw information from me.
“You almost got me today, but you didn’t. Instead, a lot of other people must have been killed in the demolition of that bridge.”
“Immediately after this attack by Sheoblask, I decided I needed to talk with you. I’ve been considering a conversation between us ever since that stunt you pulled on the Jersey turnpike. The inspiration to outmaneuver both of us directly reveals a substantive ability to see opportunity where we didn’t.”
I remembered his look of bewilderment when he realized I had bested him by turning into the maintenance yard.
“What does all this mean?”
“We cannot locate the tunnel problem, yet we know it exists. Your talents, bolstered by our initiative, are considered paramount in helping to locate it.”
“I’ve been pretty much lost about why you’re messing with me. I wish you’d just bug out, but if so much depends on me, let’s get on with solving it. I mean, like, I don’t know anything about this jigsaw puzzle of a collapsed god tunnel.”
“You’ve been living your life, working persistently on your art, romancing your women. As you know, I’ve been watching. I have an interest in you and have influenced your dangerous escapades and disasters, manipulated violence and problems directed at you. You survived. It’s part of my investigation to see what energies you attract during a crisis.”
“What? But people die, get hurt...”
“Different sensibilities. Tools I use.” He slashed his tongue out. Long and forked, it left a luminous trail that faded quickly in the light of the room.
A hiss escaped his lips.
He was dangerous, his power and knowledge threatening. If he was going to strike, he had the advantage. The memory of the two of us standing in Monster Valley, working together to chase Beelzebub from the area was as unreal as it was unforgettable. And now, he had confessed he wanted something from me. I was still alive, though there was little comfort in him being a possible ally.
“Energies I attract?”
“Yes, the ghostly Hank, the living Indian hallucination, and your pet dream dog. Beelzebub, Pan, myself, others. With your awareness expanding, Sheoblask has been drawn tighter into your circle. The frog things were an amusing twist. They would have let most drown.”
“What do you mean? They don’t live on the river?”
“No, they responded to your gulping attempts at magic as you were drowning. They were portal jumping, got sucked into your vicinity through a tunnel tributary, landed in the river, then pulled you ashore. Although not especially charitable, they were glad to work out a deal of some sort and hand you over to Sheoblask.”
“Red Eyes. Did you put him on to me? Or is it my psychic suction vortex?”
He smiled thinly, lit a cigarette.
“You have a natural talent. You are able to interact with tunnel energies and draw them to you. This, before you, was unheard-of in a non-mushroom eater and would theoretically be disastrous if used from inside a tunnel, causing whirlpools or collapses. Ideally, you should be a non-traveler. However, Pan thought differently. He believed your timely appearance, the tunnel explosion, your capabilities, and our failed efforts to locate the ruined area were all related. Still, we were stumped as to how you gained the healing gift. It was another question mark about you. No god was claiming to have bestowed you with either the ability to heal, tunnel-see, or affect the energies moving through the tunnels.”
“What do you mean, no god?”
He waved his cigarette above his head. “Other divinities have taken notice.”
“I wondered if everything I was living through was some kind of incomprehensible game of the gods.”
“It may be, but even so, we play our roles. It may have started forty million years ago with some god snapping its fingers and, here you are, acting out a minor move in some eternal game. I’ve learned that the passage of time, so crucial to our perceptions, is just as irrelevant to the gods as a sniffle or a blink may be to the rest of us. But back to the point I was making.”
Despite my revulsion of Steel, I was gripped by his revelations and leaned forward to better listen to him. “Go on.”
“Your healing aura somewhat neutralizes your proclivity of pulling energy from a tunnel. Instead of destroying a tunnel, you’re able to travel short hops safely. You possess an unnatural power never witnessed. Pan wanted you to eat the god’s feast, believing it would help you cultivate your latent talents. When he sent you on your first test hop to New York, the only anomaly was Beelzebub appearing sometime later from
a small crack in a minor tributary.”
“He looked nasty.”
Steel brushed my observation away with a sideways swipe of his hand and a nearly imperceptible raising of his shoulders. “It was almost predictable that he would show. He’s a terrible nuisance who doesn’t give up. I’ve dealt with him before.”
I didn’t want to think too much about their relationship. “Uh, okay.” I raised two fingers. “Could I have a cigarette?”
He gestured to a silver box on the coffee table between us. “Of course.”
“Why wouldn’t Pan just know where the problem is?” Holding an ornamental lighter to a long brown cigarette, I inhaled lightly, testing the smoke’s strength. “He’s some kind of god.”
“We’re in a unique situation. None of the gods know the answer. Imagine a game, a war, even a romance between gods as a flow of new creations aimed at the other. Pan’s constantly matching wits with other deities. But this time, there’s a rogue element no one can decipher.”
“So, what am I supposed to do about all this? You have some ability to throw murderers at me, Pan can ship me off to the moon. Am I supposed to know what I’m doing, or am I just some puppet?”
“We can’t locate where the tunnel damage is. Picture an eternal skyscraper. Imagine each floor to be a moment in time. Through the center of the building is an elevator shaft. This is the god’s time-travel tunnel. So time goes on, floor after floor. That’s no problem. But the elevator, the ability to travel in any direction to different times, is now broken. It’s like the passageway doesn’t exist, but we know it always has been. For safety, I’ve shut down all time travel access doors. Where in time and space we need to go to fix the collapsed tunnel is a mystery. But, in the midst of our inability to find it, another enigma exists—you and your presence nearby when the incident that triggered the wreckage happened. Right now, the coincidence of you is a major key.”
Miracles (The Remarkable Adventures of Deets Parker Book 3) Page 9