The Last Rite

by Chad Morgan

  “Send them . . .” The words rattled in Daniel's head until he made sense of what Charlie said. “You control them?”

  “No, more like make suggestions,” Charlie said. “They kind of have a mind of their own, but they know we’re on the same side.”

  “So, there are two different . . . what, tribes?” Daniel asked.

  Charlie flinched. “Ewww, bad choice of words.”

  “So, what are they,” Daniel asked, ignoring his remark.

  “The bad ones, they’re abominations. They come from somewhere . . .” Charlie made air quotes with his fingers. “. . . beyond our reality and corrupt whatever they touch.”

  “And the others?” Daniel asked.

  “I like to think of them as antibodies,” Charlie said, looking to Daniel. “Grandfather would tell us stories of how everything had a spirit in them – the rocks, the trees, the bent nickel I found by the tracks. The other monsters, the good ones, they’re supposed to be those spirits taking form and fighting back.” Charlie looked back down the road. “Where are we going?”

  Daniel cocked his head at Charlie. “I thought you were leading?”

  “Not you,” Charlie said, with a nod towards the wolf. “Her.”

  The wolf looked over her shoulder back at them, then turned forward again.

  “Is she a spirit too?” Daniel asked, not trying to hide the sarcasm.

  Charlie shrugged. “What else?”

  Daniel rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”

  “My grandfather used to tell me stories of animal spirits when I was a kid,” Charlie said, nodding as if magic spirit wolves were perfectly reasonable.

  “It’s not a spirit,” Daniel said. “It’s a wolf. One uncharacteristically used to people, granted, and one extremely intelligent, but not some supernatural entity.”

  Charlie looked at Daniel. “Okay, ignoring the fact that it escaped from the library cellar like Harry Houdini, have you seen anything else alive since you got here?”

  Daniel shook his head. “Hardly proof of the supernatural.”

  “We just escaped a building surrounded by monsters and you want proof of the supernatural?” Charlie asked. “And I thought I used to be in denial.”

  Daniel let out a huff. “Fine. So why a wolf?”

  Charlie scratched his chin. “Wolves always seem to crop up in Native American folklore.”

  “Like how?” Daniel asked.

  “Depends,” Charlie said. “Tribes from the southwest, for example, think of wolves as malevolent spirits. They fear them. Up here in the northwest, though, they’re considered kindred spirits, even brothers. Considering where we are, a wolf would be a very beneficial spirit guide to have. Very powerful. High-end animal spirit guide. You can’t get much better. Except maybe bear.”

  The wolf looked back at the two humans and let out a low growl.

  “Hey, I didn’t make the rules,” Charlie said to the wolf, then turned his attention back to Daniel. “I just wish I had listened to my grandfather more when I was a kid. I thought it was all kind of useless nonsense. You know, like algebra. I mean, when have you ever had to know a quadratic equation in real life?”

  Then Charlie stopped so suddenly, Daniel was several steps ahead of him before he realized and stopped himself. They both turned and saw the wolf walking up the steps to the entrance under a large marquee reading “Cinbar Theater.”

  “Oh,” Charlie said, “looks like we’re here.”

  36

  The library walls were stripped to their bare bones. The abominations, in their eagerness to get inside, ripped the building apart, but there was no sign of Burns. The business suit man stood back, watching his troops dig through the rubble. His body was tense, wanting to pace, to burn off his nervous energy, but he stood statue-still. He wasn’t going to show weakness, not in front of the abominations and definitely not in front of his partner. The business suit woman was stepping through the ruins of the library. She stood stable in spite of her heels, not what the boys roaming the streets of Manila or Bangkok looking for some paid companionship call fuck-me heels, but tall enough to be respectable and still show off her shapely legs. If he was right and she was having second thoughts over completing their mission, it would be a shame to kill the owners of those legs. Besides, if they finished their task, they might become the last shapely pair of legs in creation. Shame, but life was full of little disappointments.

  “Look for any sign of Mr. Burns or his companion,” he barked.

  His partner pulled over a beam, lifting a large pile of plaster with it, and froze. He watched her, watched how she swallowed her reaction and hid her emotions. Then, when she thought her poker face was in place, she shouted, “Over here.”

  The business suit man trekked over the rubble pile to his partner. Laying on the ground was the body of the woman Burns was traveling with. With his foot, he pushed the body over and the dead woman’s face lobbed up to him then to the side. She had a serene look on her pale blue face that looked out of place amidst the debris. She must have died before the building came down.

  “Looks like Daniel’s friend,” he said.

  His partner bent down and pulled an arrow out of the pile, it’s bright blue feathers dusted white with crumpled drywall. She said, “Lightfoot was here.”

  “They’re together now,” he said through gritted teeth. He stood up and shouted to the abominations, “Spread out! Find them!”

  The Lightfoots had the scroll, the girl, and now they had Burns. This whole thing was unraveling fast. If he didn’t act soon, his apocalypse would be canceled, and his brave new world, wiped clean of vial humanity, was fading away.

  The Cinbar Theater, like much of the town, had seen better days. The theater showed the craftsmanship of a day before prefabricated construction or cheap plastics, of a time when the lumber industry was prosperous and the town was flush with money, and money went farther than it did in modern times. While the town once had money to build the theater, it long since lost the money to maintain it. The wood stanchions were chipped and scratched, some of the seats ripped and the stuffing coming out, the carpet dirty and threadbare in places. The wallpaper had yellow stains as decades of nicotine collected along the ceiling and dripped back down along the walls, a holdover from a time before tobacco was recognized as a carcinogen and everyone smoked in public places. The place smelled to Daniel like the ghost of a Las Vegas casino.

  The theater pre-dated movies, so in front of the seats was an open area for an orchestra and beyond that a stage. On the stage was a large screen, the theater updating to more modern times and switching from live performances to projected pictures, though Daniel wondered what the last movie was to play in the theater. He imagined kids in the seventies watching Star Wars of Jaws, while their parents sat in the back smoking. Did they still allow smoking in the theaters in the seventies? He wasn’t sure, but he could imagine it.

  Daniel sat in one of the theater seats as he watched Charlie work along the floor in front of the stage. The first thing Charlie did was to pull up the ripped carpet in front of the stage, exposing the bare wood underneath, then pulled out some chalk from the animal-skin bag and drew on the floor. Charlie had the animal-skin bag by him, what he called a medicine bag, and was pulling things out of it and placing them on a chalk drawing me made on the floor. Charlie made long spider-like movements, trying not to disturb the outlines he had drawn on the hard, wooden floor. He kept looking at a piece of paper in his hand. At one point, Charlie stopped, turned the paper upside down, then tried to turn his head upside down as well before straightening them both. Daniel watched Charlie place the same feather in three different spots. He could have mistaken it as part of some ritual if Charlie hadn’t cursed every time he moved it. The fourth time, Daniel rolled his eyes. The wolf laid on the floor, bored but not sharing Daniel’s frustration, watching Charlie work while letting out the occasional canine yawn.

  “That doesn’t look right,” Charlie said, consulting the paper, and ali
gning a river stone along the chalk drawing. “Wait, I got this backward. Damn it . . .”

  “You’re instilling me with confidence,” Daniel said.

  Charlie ignored him but took the chalk and changed the drawing on the floor, erasing some parts and drawing in new ones. As he knelt over, the large necklace dangled, one that looked very familiar.

  “Lisa had a necklace like that,” Daniel said. “She lost it right before . . .”

  Daniel trailed off, realizing where his words were taking him. He didn’t want to think of Lisa like that, of either the inhuman monster she was becoming or the very human person she died as. He wondered if Lisa had any family to miss her. None in the town, Lisa had outlasted all of them he knew, but outside of Shellington Heights? A cousin? A college roommate? An online friend? He didn’t know. He never would know.

  “Right before you ran into the library?” Charlie asked, not looking up from his work. “Explains a few things.”

  “How?” Daniel asked.

  Charlie stood up and walked to Daniel, holding his necklace out for him to see. “It’s a talisman. Protects you from them.”

  “Didn’t protect Sheriff Thundercloud,” Daniel said, reaching out for the necklace. “I saw him . . . Ow!”

  The necklace burned, just like the first one he had seen in the street when he and Bethany first entered Shellington Heights, and Daniel jerked his hand back. At the time, he thought it had something on it, like an acid, but if Charlie was to be believed, it was the infection that made the necklace hurt him.

  “Doesn’t protect your life, it protects your soul,” Charlie said, stepping back and smiling. “Doesn’t keep you alive, but it does keep you from turning into one of them. While you’re infected, you won’t be able to touch it.”

  “And when Lisa lost hers?” Daniel asked.

  “She lost its protection,” Charlie said, his smile fading. He looked around the theater, taking it all in. “This really is a large space to be doing this.” He turned to the wolf. “You sure you want to do this here?”

  The wolf said nothing. Daniel was surprised to find himself waiting for the canine to respond like it was Scooby-Do or something, but the wolf continued to act like an ordinary wolf. Daniel turned his attention to Charlie and asked, “What does the size matter?”

  “This is a sweat lodge ceremony,” Charlie said, his words coming slowly as he rechecked the paper, his mind doing two things at once and therefore not doing either efficiently. “It’s supposed to sweat out the impurities, but it’s kind of hard to heat up such a large space. More importantly, that much heat . . .”

  “Will attract those things,” Daniel said, finishing the thought. “They like the heat.”

  “Yeah,” Charlie said, “don’t know why . . .”

  “It’s cold where they’re from,” Daniel explained. “There is no heat. It’s also why they’re so vulnerable to it.”

  Charlie put his paper down and looked at Daniel. “They’re vulnerable to heat?”

  “Fire, yeah. They burn easy,” Daniel said. Now it was Charlie’s turn to stare at Daniel until he shared more information. Daniel looked a little sheepish and said, “The old woman told me.”

  Charlie’s eyebrows rose. “The who?”

  “The old woman?” Daniel said. “I saw her. Same one the prisoner told me about. You haven’t seen her?”

  “You don’t get to talk shit about my wolf spirit idea,” Charlie said, pointing an accusing finger at Daniel. He turned back to the chalk outline and clapped his hands. “Okay, you need to sit in the center of the circle.”

  Daniel got out of his seat and stepped over the chalk drawing to where Charlie pointed too. It was in front of a large wood pile that Charlie was sprinkling something onto. Daniel figured the wood pile would be a bonfire for this ceremony of his, though what Charlie sprinkled onto it, Daniel had no idea. As Daniel sat down, Charlie said, “Okay, now this is important. You cannot leave the circle.”

  Daniel looked around at the chalk outline he now sat in, then back up at Charlie. “What? What if those things attack . . .”

  “You’ll be safe as long as you stay in the circle,” Charlie said.

  “The magic circle?” Daniel asked.

  “Yeah, shut up,” Charlie said. “Now, as your body sweats out the physical impurities, so will your spirit. When that happens, you’re going to start tripping balls. Whatever happens, stay in the circle.”

  Charlie struck a match and tossed it into the wood pile. The flames were immediate, shooting over Charlie’s head for a moment in a bright blue.

  “Whoa!” Charlie said as the blue flames died down to a more natural height, but the odd color didn’t fade.

  “Was that supposed to happen?” Daniel asked.

  “Uh, yeah,” Charlie said way too quickly to hold any sincerity. “Anyway, I’ll be standing watch outside.”

  Charlie headed up the aisle and back up toward the theater lobby. As Daniel sat there, the wolf got up and followed Charlie. Daniel turned to follow them, careful to stay inside the chalk circle and called out, “When will I know this thing is done?”

  Charlie looked over his shoulder and called out, “If this works like it’s supposed to, you’ll know.”

  Charlie walked through the large lobby doors, holding them open for the wolf to follow, and then both disappeared through the doors. Daniel turned back and watched the blue flame dance, his shoulders sagging and wondering if this wasn’t all a huge waste of time.

  The state of the Cinbar, like the rest of the town he grew up in, was painful for Charlie to see. The Cinbar was the only theater for miles around, and it a rare treat for Charlie to come from the reservation to get some popcorn and watch a movie. Compared to the reservation, the Cinbar was opulent, and with only one screen, when a new movie that wasn’t some boring adult thing like Terms of Endearment was showing, it was a big deal. He remembered watching Clash of the Titans with Carolyn, and when Calibos died the whole theater cheered. Close Encounters of the Third Kind was another one he remembered, with the humans and aliens talking with music. Grandfather had taken him to that one, Carolyn not interested in a movie with aliens in it, saying it was too unbelievable to interest her. Charlie wondered where that line was drawn now, where aliens were silly but demons from an alternate dimension were a normal, everyday occurrence. Then he remembered Carolyn was gone, and he’d never be able to ask her.

  The large glass doors were shattered, the remains littering the ground underneath the empty frame. On each side of the lobby were stairwells leading up to the balcony level and to the entrance to the projector booth. In the back wall of the lobby was the concession stand where the empty popcorn machine sat silent. On each side of the concession stand were large double doors. The exit doors inside the theater would only open from the inside, so at least the porous entrance was the only one.

  Charlie looked down to the wolf. She stood next to him, staring out through the empty door frames into the fog-filled night. Charlie laid down the scroll case on the concession counter and looked out into the night too. The morning was still many hours away, and the abominations would figure out Bethany’s dad wasn’t in the bottom of the debris pile eventually. They would start searching, one of them would find them in the theater, then they would all know.

  “This place is undefendable,” he complained to the wolf. “Best to stay out of sight . . .”

  He turned back to the wolf as he spoke, but the wolf was already gone. Charlie spun around, looking for where the wolf might have moved too, but she was just gone. Again. Charlie shouted into the night air, “That’s okay, I got this. Thanks anyway.”

  37

  Daniel sat in front of the flame, sweat beading on his brows. The novelty of the blue fire wore off in the first few minutes, replaced by the heat bringing on dizziness. The space was huge, and the single fire shouldn’t have warmed up the entire space by itself, but he was melting regardless. He took off the winter coat he got from the camping store and folded it
in his lap, but even that was feeling too hot. He turned around and tossed the coat onto a chair behind him, but when he turned back, Lisa was standing in front of him.

  There were no spider legs coming out of her back or rammed through her chest, but her eyes were dark and glossy. Black streaks came from her eyes. At first, Daniel mistook it for mascara after a strong cry, but as his eyes focused he recognized it as the black blood of the abominations.

  “Lisa?” Daniel said. His head was starting to swim, and he wasn’t sure if he hadn’t already passed out.

  “You said you were going to save me, Daniel,” she said, her tone flat and emotionless.

  Daniel got to his feet, being careful not to step on the chalk outline. Confident he didn’t break the circle he was standing in, he shifted his gaze to Lisa. “I’m sorry. I tried.”

  “Why do you get to live while others die?” she asked.

  Daniel asked himself that question a few different times in his life. Maybe he still was, maybe Lisa was just his own guilt reflected at him. He also remembered the old woman’s warning, that the abominations knew his weaknesses and would use them against him. His head was spinning too much to figure the puzzle out. “I don’t know. I don’t . . .”

  Lisa charged at Daniel, screaming, “I’m dead because of you!”

  Daniel stepped back, but only as far as the circle would allow, suppressing his instinct to step away from the threat any further. Even so, as Lisa ran up to him, he jerked back involuntarily and almost lost his balance. He pinwheeled his arms, fighting gravity to pull himself back straight. By the time Daniel straightened up, he realized that Lisa wasn’t reaching him. Lisa looked as puzzled as he was, banging against an invisible wall like a mime.

  “You’re not Lisa,” Daniel said. “Maybe you’re whatever was taking her over, but you’re not Lisa.”