by Troy McCombs
Ben shook his head, staring at the floor. "What should I do then? I feel like I'm in a place I can't escape from."
"We're all there. It's called earth. Or Hell. I'm going to ask of you a favor."
"Anything."
John clasped his hands together and drew a breath. "I need some money, if you can loan it to me. I lost quite a few things in that fire. I need to buy some clothes and other essentials. Now, in return for that money, I'm buying your cancer from you. I'm also buying your worries and fears and bad experiences."
Ben looked extremely confused. He almost laughed. "What?"
"You don't dwell on any bullshit until I return your money back to you. You don't think about dying, or any pain and you don't complain at all."
Ben did laugh. "That's a tall order, but...deal."
They shook hands.
***
Neither man spoke much more after that. John ended up falling asleep early in a wet spot on the couch. Ben retired to his own bed after watching the Jay Leno Show.
Outside, the night was darker than usual. No clouds were even in the sky, but the earth's shadow was blocking sunlight from reaching the moon. The lunar eclipse was taking place.
One town away, Sean Hoss, one of two soldiers who'd seen Harold shape-shift into a monster in the woods by the Mayberry House, stood looking out his living room window, watching the monster's premonition taking place in the pitch-black sky above. The reflected light of the moon gradually and gradually got swallowed up by a shape that did not look round to him but rather some unfamiliar geometric shape he'd never seen before. He thought he heard Harold telling him in that sickening unearthly voice: He's coming. D'Kourikai's coming! Space is expanded to its near-optimal maximum. The stars are aligning. Everything is almost right. Tell the eight-shaped lizard that I can see the future. Tell the humans that they are about to experience a brand of fear that will kill them in one giant scream. A new world is about to break into a dense globe of ultimate satisfactory. He's coming, along with all his friends and family, and Ipiskonss.
Blow your brains out, Sean! Or else I will show you what I say.
Not only was Sean hearing this, but Peter Lorin, the other soldier to have seen Harold Matthis turn into a hellhound, was hearing it, too. At 12:00 A.M., right on the dot, both men took out a pistol and shot themselves. They both died instantly.
Farther on, one more town over, from the depths of an old, unused chimney in the Mayberry House, twenty-two unholy eyes also watched the moon being blanketed. They all blinked, some in unison, others independently. Then, the entity to whom the eyes belonged, spoke, "John Rollings, your time is close at hand. You shall come back to me!"
***
Three towns back over; John was sleeping soundly, quietly, peacefully, unrestrained by D'kourikai. For some reason, it could not send him a nightmare now. He slept in the darkness of his mind, in the darkness of Ben's living room, slowly drifting into a white mist somewhere in a great expanse of utter nothingness. The mist thickened, and then diffused into a gentle fog. A bright yet soothing gold light followed it, burning the darkness away. John could feel its warmth against his body. A figure approached—appeared—from the mist, dressed in a gown so white it looked unusual. He could not make out any features of the person, except that she had flowing brown hair. The woman floated toward him, the light behind her dispersing apart into awesome-looking laser beams. Her face became visible. It was gentle, happy, kind, and utterly unfamiliar. John had never seen her before in his life.
Then she spoke to him without moving her mouth: "John, I see you making progress in Gaia. You are a gifted soul. You don't know me, but I need your help in pursuing karmic justice...fixing a wrong to a right from which I am unable." She smiled. The light behind her grew brighter. Her emerald eyes became greener.
John posed a question. "What may I help you with?" He was standing in a dark space, not at the entrance to heaven, as was she.
"I was murdered before my time. My killer still resides somewhere in Chester County. I need your help to find the one who did it and imprison him before he does something else." She smiled again. A gentle breeze ruffled her almost-opaque form.
"How will I find him?"
"I have but one clue I am allowed to show you."
She closed her eyes. John's third eye shot open. He saw an extreme close up of a small, black-inked Grim-Reaper tattooed on a man's arm or leg. It was a human limb, anyway. The texture and hairiness led John to believe it was a male, but even that was uncertain.
Then, the projected image was gone, except for the new imprint in John's mind. The light began to dissolve away afterward, along with the woman, the mist.
"Wait!" He reached for her. She was receding quickly, now barely a shadow.
"I have faith in you that you will find him. And by the way, do not go into that house again without orange juice." The woman disappeared.
John opened his physical eyes. Ben was standing over him, a pizza box in one hand, a slice of pizza in the other. He was chewing loudly. Daylight shined through the stained glass windows in little rainbows. Outside, children laughed as they ran home from school. What time is it?
"Wanna piece of pizza?" Ben extended him a slice.
"No thanks. What time is it?"
"Suit yourself. It's a little after three, you lazy ass. Time to get up." Ben sat in his chair and stuffed a pizza in his mouth.
"Nice lunch there, huh? I see you never gave up pizza."
"Hey, it's my favorite. Papa John's is only three blocks away. I think it pisses them off when I tell them to deliver it."
John chuckled and shook his head.
The shrilling wail of a cell phone rang through the room. Ben reached over, picked it up, and opened it.
The display read: Unknown Caller. His eyebrows sank. Who the hell is this?
He put the phone to his ear. "Hello?"
"Hello, is John there?" Jennifer's voice blared through the receiver.
"Uh, yeah, hold on." Ben tossed him the phone. "It's some chick."
John caught it and put it to his ear. "Hello?"
"Hey! Where are you? I went to the E.R. and they said you left. Yesterday. I was scared something happened to you."
"Nope. I'm alive and well."
Ben sighed. Alive and well…alive...well.
He wasn't either of those two. Is John rubbing it in to get a rise outta me?
He continued eating his pie. John got up and walked out the front door. Once outside, he sat on the step and looked forward. "How'd you get this number?"
"The digits came to me in a dream. I almost didn't call, but the urge wouldn't let me alone. Are you still seeing...It?"
"No, actually I haven't. Not since yesterday."
"Okay, good. I didn't think you would anymore. Not for a while anyway.” She sounded grateful.
"What do you mean? Have you seen something?" John was curious.
"No, not recently. But I would like to meet up with you today. I do have to talk to you. Can you meet me at Piper's Cafe? Say, in an hour?"
"I don't have a car. I'm not even in Bellsville right now."
"Can you get a cab? I'll pay for the fair when you meet me there."
"Are you sure? I mean—"
She interrupted, "Please. It'd be my pleasure. Four o' clock."
"Fine, I'll be there."
"Great! See you then." She hung up. John did too.
He looked up at the sky, at a blistering bright sun. It radiated the same warmth he felt only moments ago in the dream. Beyond the orange round sphere was nothing but seas of blue, scattered with hints of departing clouds. He wanted to believe his mother was looking down at him, smiling, proud of her only child. Maybe she was. Maybe she was standing by his side with her hand on his shoulder.
Suddenly, he realized what D'kourikai meant when it had said humans were pampered beings, the only life forms trapped within a world within a world...
We're pampered because we have God. Angels. Messengers.
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We live within another world because we're surrounded by the spirit world.
But what would happen if D'kourikai succeeded in breaking through into this one?
That thought frightened Rollings. Only time would tell.
***
A dented cab pulled up to a city curb at 3:59 P.M. Jennifer was already standing on the sidewalk by a fire hydrant, dressed in a pretty green dress and holding a blood-red purse on her skinny arm. She smiled and waved at John before the dirty yellow vehicle came to a complete stop. He rolled down his window as she approached.
"That'll be twenty-two dollars, sir," the cab driver barked, as if John intended to jump out without paying.
Twenty-two...John thought. He did not like that number.
Jennifer handed John a bill, with which he paid the smelly, overweight cabby. Then he got out, and barely had the chance to shut the door before the taxi peeled off down the road.
"You know I could have paid him." John gave her the look. "Dinner is definitely on me."
"We'll see."
John followed her into the small restaurant. He had heard good things of the place, but had never actually stepped foot inside the building. Supposedly their burgers were to die for. Their soups, too, were highly recommended by many locals. A large sign in the doorway announced their daily special: Chicken Alfredo with salad and Garlic Bread. The place was alive with dialogue and people devouring food.
A stick-thin waitress with a big mole on her cheek welcomed them in and led them to a booth by the window. They sat.
"Here are your menus. May I get you something to drink?"
Jennifer cleared her scratchy throat. “Water.”
"Tea,” John requested.
“Okay, I'll be right back with your drinks.” The waitress smiled and walked away.
John opened his menu and browsed the selection. "I hope your fiancée doesn't find you dining with another guy."
She fumblingly opened her menu, flustered by what he just said. "Oh, he's not like that. My fiancée won't—isn't—jealous."
Her disarranged sentence spawned an assault of curiosity in Rollings' mind. Why did she accidentally say...?
She set down the menu and spoke, this time much more articulately: "You said you slept okay last night? No bad dreams? Do you feel like It still has a lock on you?"
John set down his menu. "Why do you ask? What do you know?"
"Check your pocket."
John lowered his eyebrows, confused. He reached into his right pocket. Something was in there that he hadn't put there, that shouldn't have been there. Whatever it was, he pulled it out. It was a little purple leaf with a yellow stem.
"What in the—"
Jennifer smiled thoughtfully. "It's Wolf’s bane. It's supposed to work like a dream catcher, but is more powerful. Some witches use it to confuse evil spirits so they can't be easily found by them. It's much like turning off a tracking device. I thought it might help sever the connection between you and It."
John examined the leaf. He could feel a subtle, yet strong energy emanating from it.
"It only works on two conditions. One, it loses its effect once it’s completely shriveled up and dead."
"And the other?"
"It must be no more than four feet away from your body at any given time."
"But when I was in the hospital yesterday—when I was in bed, the nurse transformed into..."
She finished: "I slipped it into your pants pocket before you woke up. Your jeans weren't exactly near your bed. You were still wearing the hospital gown. That leaf is almost dead, too. I have more in my car that I brought. My aunt grows them. Also, be careful handling it, as it's not exactly nonpoisonous. Make sure you wash your hands after touching it."
"Well, that's reassuring." He smiled. "You're something else, Jennifer. If it weren't for you, I could be dead now, you know."
She smiled.
The waitress set two drinks down on the table. "Are we ready to order?"
They did. They both ordered the special. The mole-faced girl walked away.
"Is Lucky okay?" John rubbed his hands together to warm them up.
"Yeah. He goes through soooo much food. Eats like a pig. I can see he misses you though. He always wants to go with me when I leave. Sometimes he whimpers."
John sipped on his tea. "I miss him, too. I think even Lucky is linked to me somehow, except in a good way."
Jennifer took a drink of water. "So, do you still think the Mayberry House has the all-seeing eye?"
"No. I'm positive it doesn't. That's something you need to know. Charlie Steera—the sheriff who's been working with me—took a lock of my hair when I was a child and gave it to D'kourikai. His wife went missing one day. He made a deal with it to find her.”
"Did it find her?"
"No. It tricked him. It lied to him. But I'm starting to believe that It has a weakness, whatever that may be. I don't know what it is yet, but I'm going to find it. If this leaf can break the connection, then who knows?" John began to fiddle with his straw. "I know what it wants..."
"What's that?" Jennifer was very interested.
"It needs me to puncture the barrier between dimensions. It wants to become earthbound. It needs me and my psychic powers, for whatever reason, to do so. The portal—that house—is already partly open. If it accomplishes what it intends, I have no idea what will happen or what it's capable of doing. It could collapse time and space, for all I know. We have to find out everything we can about the source of it all before we can fix anything. What it is exactly, how it was opened, where it is in that house. I don't think it was always just there. I get a sense that it was purposely created."
"Have you been in the basement? Usually things like this originate from below ground."
"That's what I was thinking. Tomorrow I'll go down there."
"You mean we—we'll go down there." Jennifer tried to sound assertive, but didn't.
John gave her a stern look. "No, not yet. It's not safe. If you go in, you're not coming out. It tried killing you in that fire because you were helping me. Now that it can't track me, I'm sure it's really pissed off at both of us now."
"But John, I have to—"
John held up his hand. His face became more serious. "Jennifer, I get a bad feeling when I think about you going into that house. I know you want to embark on some spiritual adventure, but this is seriously dangerous. You're not going, and that's end of story. You gotta promise me."
Jennifer gazed into his eyes. Her face turned red. "No. I can't promise that."
"If you don't, then I'll just tell Charlie. You'll be in jail while he and I investigate."
"You would do that to me? After all I've done to help you?" She looked hurt. Disappointed.
"I appreciate everything you've done for me. And for that, I don't want something terrible to happen to you. I'm doing this for your own good."
She sat back and sighed. Her flushed face slowly turned white again. "Whatever you say, John. I am going in there sometime, though. Maybe not tomorrow, but I will eventually."
John wanted to protest further, but didn't.
The waitress soon brought them their meals: two steaming bowls of pasta, a huge bowl of garden salad, and a platter of garlicky breadsticks smothered with butter. They ate, delving into a new, lighter conversation that didn't include the topics of death, horror, or a particular residence located minutes away.
***
John woke up the following day on Ben's couch, fully roused, with five new Wolf’s banes stuffed in his pocket. He was not taking any chances. He made sure to get them from Jennifer the day before, despite her being mildly frustrated with him at Piper's Diner. Ben appeared to be gone. The house was quiet, warm, and stinky with the odors of old piss, cigarette smoke, and rotten food. John missed the smell of his old apartment, the color of the walls, and the way the sun came in through the window.
I'll miss Ben soon, John thought to himself. It almost brought a tear to his eye. Cigarettes
and lungs were like a loaded gun with a happy trigger finger, and his friend was about to die from it.
He remembered D'kourikai saying something about cancer back in the hospital, but could not recall any solid details. Yesterday's events were very swimmy in his head for some reason, a blurry mirage of happenings lost in a cranial wasteland.
Why can't I—?
The truth was, it had to do with the Wolf’s bane crammed in his pocket. The power of the purple leaf had severed his connection with D'kourikai cold turkey after twelve long years. They had become part of each other. Now they suddenly weren't. It was withdrawal, no matter how bizarre. Rollings' mind was his own now, as was Its. They were finally in separate worlds again.
The thought was gone. John knew he needed to call Steera and head to the Mayberry House. So he did.
I'm on my way, Charlie told him.
Suddenly thirsty, John headed into the kitchen, flicked on the overhead, and opened the fridge. It was packed full of Miller, Budweiser, Vodka, and Smirnoff. The grills were sticky with spilled, rancid-smelling beer. There was no soda, water, or milk. The only thing without alcohol in it was a carton of orange juice. Probably for his Vodka.
John picked it up, opened the lid, and smelled it, just to make sure it was not spiked. It seemed normal. He took a long drink, downing almost sixteen ounces in one giant gulp. The liquid flowed coolly down his throat and into his stomach. Something about the taste of oranges triggered a fuzzy feeling in him. He remembered another vision from the other day that had to do with...Orange juice?
Where did I hear or see that?
Before or after the barber shop?
After.
By sight or sound?
(Thinking...thinking...)