American Nocturne

by Hank Schwaeble

  “Looks like a twenty-five,” Lance said, eyeing it. Pepper was holding it up, trying to silhouette it against the night sky.

  Cory’s hand slid to his belt buckle. His fingers stroked the curved loops that protruded from its rectangular center. Fish was an idiot, he thought. You never show your weapon.

  Pepper nodded. “Yeah, a piece of shit.” He slid it into his pocket. “I’ll hold onto this. Otherwise, you might end up shooting your dick off.”

  Cory tried not to smile. Pepper was just short of being candid, having misidentified whose dick he was worried about. By the way Lance turned his head, Cory could tell he was thinking the same thing as Pepper disengaged the brake and coasted forward.

  Not long after that, there was a loud crunch followed by a thump and the car stopped moving.

  “Shit,” Pepper said.

  “What happened,” Dino asked.

  Lance was not quite laughing, but he sounded close to it. “He ran off the road, that’s what happened.”

  “What the fuck do you expect? I can’t see shit out here.”

  “We could walk the rest of the way,” Cory said. “Those lights aren’t far, and we probably wouldn’t want to drive too close, anyway.”

  Pepper seemed to think it over in the darkness. “That’s… not a bad idea.” Cory saw his shadow turn to face him over the seat. “Two in a row. I knew there was some reason we kept you around.”

  There were some audible sighs, and for a moment Cory thought Fish was going to whine again. But then Pepper shifted into reverse, lighting up palmetto fronds and leafy tangles in a wash of red, and backed the car up a few feet. Lance got out and stretched, Pepper said “let’s go” in a hushed voice, and nobody said another word as they made their way forward.

  After about fifty yards of stumbling footfalls, stifled laughter and irritable shushing noises, the path curved to the left, forming a drive to a small brick house. A large lamppost illuminated the ground below in a bright cone of light, adding to the light coming from the windows of the house. Next to the house, just to the right of the lamppost, was a hangar of sorts, like something designed to accommodate a private plane. A large black pickup was parked in front of the hangar. The Mercedes was parked closer to the house, a few yards away from the truck.

  “What the fuck?” Lance said. “Why’d a faggot build something like that? Out here?”

  “Maybe that’s where he and his pals throw their parties,” Pepper said. “Who knows?”

  Cory pointed into the darkness. “Hey. Check those out.”

  Just before them stood a pair of poles, one on each side of the drive. They seemed wooden, almost like totems. Atop them Cory could make out the backlit forms of things with folded, Pterodactyl-like wings. He perceived them as being carved from marble, though they were far too shrouded in shadow to tell.

  “What a fuckin’ weirdo,” Pepper said.

  “Well, now you know where he lives, tough guy,” Lance said. “Do you pussy out now? Or come up with some excuse to pussy out later?”

  “I’m not pussying out.” Pepper’s hand slid into his jacket pocket. He kept it there. “We just got to figure out a way to draw him out. Keep him from callin’ the cops.”

  Lance shook his head. “This, I got to see.”

  “I think you’re right for having second thoughts, Pepper. It might be smart to come back later,” Cory said. “Come up with a plan first, since now we know where he lives.”

  Before Pepper could respond, there was a noise from up ahead, movement at the front of the house. The front door was now open, and the guy they had followed sauntered down the front steps and headed toward the hangar.

  “Here’s your chance, Rambo,” Lance said.

  Pepper hesitated, then spoke in hushed, staccato bursts. “Cory. You come with me. Dino, Fish-face, follow us, but stay back. Get ready to jump him if I give you the signal.”

  “What about Lance?” Fish asked.

  “Lance stands guard back here. That was always the plan.”

  “I changed my mind,” Lance said. “I think I want to see this. I’d rather not just hear about how you pussied out. Besides, we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere. You don’t need a look-out.”

  “Fine, all y’all just follow me then.”

  After taking a breath and pausing as if to steel himself, Pepper trotted up the drive, his upper body hunched forward in a slight crouch. Cory followed, as did Dino and Fish. Lance pulled up the rear, walking casually, hands in his pockets. Cory thought he might have even heard him quietly whistling to himself.

  On the side of the hanger, an entry door stood ajar and a slender band of yellow light extended from it, mixing in with the light from the lamppost. The large bay doors that composed most of the hangar’s facade were closed. The light from doorway disappeared abruptly as they approached.

  Pepper crept his way up to the rear of the pickup truck and leaned back against it, sitting on his haunches. Cory, Dino and Fish fell in next to him. Lance walked up to them and took a knee, placing the truck between himself and the door, but did not appear particularly concerned about being seen.

  “Pep, why go through all this? Why don’t I just yell, hey, mister! Then, when he comes out, you can do your thing? Or better yet, why don’t you just yell it? Or, we can quit this fucking around and you can admit you ain’t gonna do jack shit.”

  “I am! I’m just not gonna give him a chance to lock himself inside, or call the sheriff’s department, or pull out some shotgun.”

  “So, now you’re worried about a gun,” Lance said.

  “Look, when he comes out, I’m going to jump him, okay? I’m gonna kick his ass, then show him what it really means to eat shit and die.”

  “Still haven’t gotten over that time you forced that little neighbor boy to give you a blow job, have you Andrew?”

  The voice came from the direction of the hangar, loud yet controlled. But everybody behind the truck was looking at Lance, who was looking up.

  Lance stood. He took a few steps back. Staring at an upward angle, he raised a hand and gave a little wave. “You guys might as well come out,” Lance said, still waving. “He’s on the roof.”

  Pepper eased his head over the top of the rear gate of the pickup. “Shit,” was all he managed to mutter.

  After Pepper backed away from the truck, the others followed one at a time.

  “Hello, Andrew.” The man was sitting on the top of the hangar. His legs were crossed at the ankles, dangling from the center of the curved roof.

  Pepper glanced at the others and then fumbled to remove the gun from his jacket pocket. He shoved the barrel away from his chest and toward the man on the roof.

  “Get down off of there, or I’ll shoot.”

  “Please, Andrew. Do you have any idea how limited the range on one of those is?”

  “Just do what I said! And stop calling me that!”

  “But that is your name, isn’t it? Andrew Jeffrey Pep? You were thirteen when you forced that eight year old to fellate you. Slapped him in the back of the head and threatened to drown him if he didn’t. He lived with his mother, four trailers down from you.”

  “Shut up!”

  “You see, there are two types of people who make it a point to condemn homosexuality. There are the very religious, who, rightly or wrongly, believe it is a sin. Those people, at least, are sincere. Then there are pillars of the community like you. Those who hate the sinner because they see a part of themselves they want to deny, something they can’t accept. It is that something they really hate.”

  “Fuck you. Wh-who the hell are you?”

  “Is that true, Pepper?” Lance started to laugh. “You raped an eight-year-old boy? Jesus!”

  “No! He’s lying!”

  “Am I? Then let’s talk about the pudgy fellow next to you. Peter, isn’t it?”

  Fish’s eyes darted to Pepper’s, then to Lance’s, then to Cory’s. “Me?”

  “Yes. Peter Cooney. Just three years ago, at the
tender age of fourteen, you began smearing peanut butter on your penis and having your dog lick it off. You kept that practice up until you cut yourself on his tooth trying to insert it into his mouth. All he wanted was the peanut butter, I’m afraid.”

  “That’s… that’s not true!”

  “Oh, my. I must be way off today. How about you, then? Jason Dean.”

  Dino swallowed hard. “Look, Mister, please…”

  “Samael. My name is Samael.”

  “Mister Sa-Sam-ay-el… please don’t. Don’t say it. I… didn’t think they was going to hurt you. Honest.”

  “Honesty? Hmm. A novel concept. For you, at least. How, exactly, did honesty come into play with your baby sister? Crib death, they called it. Your parents always blamed themselves. It destroyed their marriage. Funny how so many children feel responsible for their parents’ divorce, but not you, even though it really was all your fault. All because you couldn’t handle a little competition for their affection.”

  The man wedged a foot beneath his seat and rose. He took a step forward, slightly to the side, and began to descend, one foot in front of the other, as if down a grand, winding staircase. Only there were no steps, nothing but the cool night air. Cory thought he sensed, though not quite heard, the sound of each footfall as the man approached the ground, like tiny vibrations in his spine.

  Pepper held the gun out farther, extending it as far as he possibly could. “You better just back off, man! Don’t come any closer!”

  “Please, Andrew. Even if that thing could hurt me, you don’t have what it takes.”

  Pepper pulled the trigger, stabbing the pistol toward his target as he did. Nothing happened. He stood there for a moment, ratcheted the slide back and forward, and tried again.

  “Bullets, Andrew. A gun takes bullets.”

  Pepper looked down at the compact pistol, but his eyes quickly shot over to Fish. He threw it at the younger boy in disgust then fumbled around in his pockets, producing the carpet knife. He extended the blade and waved it in front of him like the flute of a jittery snake-charmer.

  “It… it doesn’t matter. There’s four of us. Do the math. Four divides into one as many times as it wants.”

  “Really? Let’s see if that’s true.”

  Samael raised a hand, flipping his fingers out one at a time as if counting on them. His four forefingers extended their full length and he glanced at them as he curved his thumb into his palm. Then he lunged forward. At least, Cory assumed he lunged. He didn’t actually see the man move, but Samael was suddenly within an arm’s length of Pepper. He grabbed Pepper’s wrist and stabbed the four extended fingers of his free hand into Pepper’s shoulder. Pepper’s face contorted and his mouth opened as if to scream. Before any sound came out, Samael swept his hand down and away in a violent motion.

  At first, Cory thought the man had torn Pepper’s arm off. Then he realized he had merely stripped it, leaving the skeletal arm bones and hand bones in place and dangling uselessly at Pepper’s side as a gush of blood came pouring out of his shoulder. The rest of Pepper’s arm, or what used to be his arm, draped from the man’s hand like a giant noodle.

  Pepper stared at his arm, lifted his eyes to follow the geyser of spewing blood then collapsed face first. He stopped moving after a couple of violent twitches.

  Lance’s eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

  Everyone stood silently still for a moment. Then Fish ran.

  He sprinted back down the drive in the direction of the car. Samael barked a word, something Cory couldn’t understand. His voice carried such force the sound of it stopped everyone else in their tracks. Even Fish, already at full speed, seemed to stumble, but he kept pumping his legs. Just as he caught his balance, something dropped from the dark, wrapping its leathery wings around him, tightening them. Cory could see Fish’s form inside, stretching against the membrane, his face brought into relief, his gaping mouth moving. There was a constrictor’s deliberateness in the squeeze, and a loud cracking noise as the movement stopped. It was followed by a wet, sloppy, tearing sound. The wings spread and flapped and the creature using them bounced into the air, flinging something. Fish’s body collapsed just as his head landed near Dino.

  The one who called himself Samael bent down and picked up the boy’s head as it rolled to a stop in front of him.

  “Do you want the same thing to happen to you?” he asked Dino, who appeared riveted to where he stood. The most Dino could manage in response was a side-to-side wag of his jaw, gaping wide enough for his tongue to be visible.

  Samael tossed Fish’s head to the ground and placed a hand around Dino’s shoulders. Dino flinched, but the man made a calming gesture and led Dino to within a few yards of the hangar. He whispered something into the boy’s ear and then walked over to the truck, where he reached through the window and appeared to activate a remote control. He looked to both Lance and Cory as he did so, winking.

  The doors to the hanger parted with a steady, whirring rumble. Inside, Cory saw an enormous wrinkled snout emerge from the parting shadows. A twin set of yellowish ivory tusks curved out from a large mouth below it, circling to each side of a pair of dark red eyes. His first impression was that the creature was some sort of gigantic boar, but he quickly saw that was not accurate. Not only was it far too large, but its body shape was all wrong. The legs and torso on this thing were more canine. And more feline. Like a cross between a hyena and a puma. But Cory knew neither of those animals had anything to do with the creation of this. It was the size of an elephant.

  Dino cringed and stumbled backward, falling to the ground. The creature’s eyes glared down toward him. Dino craned his neck back, silently pleading with Samael as he scrabbled backwards on crab legs. The only sound he managed to make was a breathy series of unintelligible yells.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Samael said.

  If the words were intended as a warning, they came too late. The creature lunged forward and slapped a massive set of talons down on Dino’s chest. It lowered its flat snout to Dino’s head and sniffed at it. Then it bit off Dino’s face, removing a crescent section from the front of the skull, and dragged his body back into the hangar.

  “I told him,” Samael said, shaking his head and clucking his tongue. “All he had to do was not show any fear.”

  Lance nodded gently, as if beginning to understand. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Oh, I know you’re not. No point in bothering to expose your secrets, because I doubt you’re ashamed of anything you’ve ever done. Though there’s plenty you should be. I will say that your stealth mischief in the funeral home that summer displayed a most creative approach to the desecration of the dearly departed. Certainly, you’re living proof that ice, too, is great and will suffice. But such misdeeds are of little consequence now. No, Lance… you’re to play a much more vital role here tonight.”

  Samael walked back to the hangar, stepping into a shadow near the wall. He emerged a moment later with a large sword in his hand. If he was concerned at all about the creature inside, its form visible as its torso shifted and its head bobbed violently in the darkness, apparently absorbed in its meal, he didn’t show it.

  “Now, the final piece of the puzzle.” Samael looked to Cory, then to Lance, smiling. “I’ve been looking for a player. The one who will help me, who will gladly lead men to their doom, red in tooth and claw, as we bring about the day of the Behemoth.”

  Behind them, the creature roared. It was a prehistoric sound, reptilian and guttural. Samael glanced at Cory again. “So much pageantry, I admit. But what fun would this be without it? So here we are, the living fulfillment of prophecy. Two of you. The warrior, and the sacrifice.” He tossed the sword to Lance, who deftly caught it by the handle. “Don’t let me down.”

  Lance studied the blade, his eyes lingering over it. He cut it through the air, one diagonal line, then another. He seemed to contemplate his options momentarily, sizing up Samael with a detached stare.

  “So, th
is is my destiny, you said?”

  “Yes.”

  “And this warrior, he’ll have power? Be able to enjoy himself?”

  “You mean, will he have plenty of sex and material wealth? Yes, if he wants. There will be much to do, of course, but no vices will be spared. Nothing will be spared.”

  Lance appeared to contemplate this for a moment, then gave a subtle shrug.

  “Sorry, guy,” he said, looking at Cory. “Nothing personal. I doubt I could take him, anyway. Besides, I have to admit all this destiny talk sounds like tits to me. I’m some kind of chosen one.” He slashed the sword through the air one more time and smiled. “If that’s the case, who’m I to argue?”

  He moved closer, circling to Cory’s left. Without telegraphing his move, he lunged, thrusting the blade forward. Cory stumbled, fell, and immediately flung his body to the side. The tip of the sword stabbed the ground next to him as he scrambled to his feet.

  “Oh, come on,” Lance said. “This thing’s kind of heavy. You’re going to wear me out, you keep doing that.”

  Lance swept the sword around in an arc as he plunged toward Cory, forcing him to stumble and fall once more. Cory landed on his back and felt the point of the blade against his chest as he began to push himself up.

  “Look, I’ll try to make this quick if you just stay still,” Lance said. “It’s not like I got a beef with you. For both our sakes, just don’t move.”

  Lance raised the sword with both hands over his head, the blade pointed down.

  Cory’s hand felt the tiny finger grooves on his belt-buckle, pinched them tightly. “Hey, Lance, you know what Pepper used to say about you when you weren’t around?”

  Lance smiled, allowing his hands to lower slightly. “No. What?”

  Cory slid a leg beneath him and lifted himself to one knee, concealing the blade in his hand. Then he sprung upward, wedging himself between Lance and the sword, ripping the knife upward from his crotch to his sternum. He leaned in close, pressing his face up on tip-toes as he dug the knife in deeper, whispering like a lover in an embrace.