The Man Without Hands

by Eric Malikyte

  The store was small; it smelled of cigarette smoke and spent candle wax. An old woman with long tattoos running up and down her arms sat at the front desk reading a paperback novel. Kurt approached her.

  Her hazel eyes met his.

  She set the book down on the table, making sure to mark her spot with a folded piece of paper first. A pendant, a star encased in a circle, was chained around her neck.

  “If you’re looking for the bathroom, it’s for customers only,” she said.

  “I’m not looking for the bathroom,” he said.

  She eyed him briefly, took the glasses that had been sitting atop her graying blond hair and put them on. “You’ll have to forgive me, sir. You don’t look the type that usually comes in here.”

  He looked around briefly, grimacing. “And who normally comes in here?”

  “Not much of anyone these days.” She sighed. “Not since that new age shop opened up down the street from here.”

  He smiled. “I suppose no one appreciates the value of your services as an occultist.”

  Her eyes narrowed at him. “What do you want?”

  He ran his finger across the table, carving a path through the thick layer of dust that coated it. “Not that I hold much faith in your beliefs, but there’s an artifact I’m searching for. I was pointed in your direction to find it.”

  “Who sent you?” Her tone was harsh. “What is your name?”

  “You may call me Kurt. I was sent by a being whom I believe you’ve had contact with in your work.”

  “Get out.”

  “You haven’t even heard my story, and you’re already trying to get me to leave?” He shook his head. “I’m beginning to understand why you’re lacking in customers, young one.”

  “Young one? I’m old enough to be your—”

  He thrust his hand out and tossed an invisible wave of Sulen at her, slamming her against the wall—ever so gently.

  “Yes, I imagine you talk a lot. Giving people here a gentle mix of the truth, along with your own personal bullshit? Yes. I’ve known many like you. Selling toys and trinkets and salves and ointments to cure all manner of diseases. You will stop running your mouth about anything other than what I want to know. And don’t think for a second that I won’t push you through that wall, and keep pushing until you’re nothing more than a fine paste, if I don’t get what I want.”

  Her eyes were wild. Part of him wanted to allow her to see him for what he truly was, but he thought better of it for now. The look in her eyes told him that she understood.

  “Now.” He took a seat at her table, and picked up her book, fanned through the pages. Since arriving on Earth, he’d read a few himself. Ironically, she was reading one of those murder mysteries. “I am looking for an artifact that’s of great interest to the being who sent me here.”

  “Which.”

  “Which being?” He smiled. “I could tell you its name, but I suspect that you’d go mad. The cultists I met the other day, however, call it the Spider.”

  She closed her eyes. Tears leaked from them. “No. Gods. I can’t.”

  “You can, and you will.” He tossed the book back onto the table and picked up a portrait of a young girl and a man. “This must be your daughter. You know, I have a son back home too. Isn’t family precious?”

  “You’re. A monster.”

  “I’m doing what needs to be done to save my people.”

  “What people.”

  “Doesn’t matter. What matters is the artifact I need. I believe you know where it is.” He dug his hand that wasn’t a hand into his pocket and retrieved the photo, held it up to her face. “I believe you found this on a trip to South Africa? Now, I’m going to release you. If you try to run or call for help, I will kill you instantly.”

  He let her fall to the floor; she sat there catching her breath for a time. “How did you know about that? I never told anyone about that trip.”

  “And yet I know. How strange.” He chuckled. “I have a source, and they tell me that you found some kind of temple down there, along with this artifact.”

  “We raised the money through crowdfunding, we were searching for proof of the old gods—”

  “And what you found was something else, am I correct? You found something that betrays one of the many forms of what these weak-minded Masku call the Spider.”

  “That’s one of his names. I’ve also traced his influence as far back as early Greece and Rome—”

  “No, these beings do not care for our genders. They are not men and they are not women. Now, the Spider, as you call it, has long since lost interest in this world. When you returned, you had contact with this being.”

  “Only briefly.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t handle maintaining contact with him...it. That kind of evil has no place in our world.”

  “These beings also have no interest in your definition of good and evil. These are trivialities to them.”

  “You keep saying that...are there more of them?”

  “Oh yes. Three that I know of.”

  “What do you need that artifact for?”

  “It’s one of three that I need. You’re going to help me find this one. Where did you leave it?”

  She shook her head; her voice was shaky, her eyes wild “Your information is wrong. I did find the tablet, but the cost was too high. I tried to tell Gary not to touch it... You don’t understand the power that these things hold.”

  “Then you will take me to this temple.”

  “How the hell am I supposed to do that? It was a miracle that we were able to raise enough money last time, and—”

  “Money is not an issue for me. I have ways of acquiring it.”

  “I don’t want to be part of anything illegal.”

  “Oh, I’m not really giving you a choice.” He grinned, turned around, started for the door. “And if you leave the city, I will find you. I will be very close by. I will be watching you.”

  2

  Kurt stepped out into the putrid New York City air, and soon found himself watching the city from the rooftop of the occult store. He had to be certain she didn’t do anything stupid.

  Sure enough, no customers stepped into her domain. And she did not attempt to leave to warn others of his presence. Not that anyone would believe her.

  As soon as he was certain that she would not attempt to tell the authorities, he left his perch.

  It was time to procure some funds.

  3

  Kurt wandered the city, down blind alleys, past drunks by bars with neon signs, by lovers that reminded him too much of his mate, by giant television screens that took up the sides of entire buildings—playing advertisements and news and sports events. He wandered until this world’s star sank low enough that their sky looked as if it had caught fire, turning the buildings to mere blackened silhouettes. What was left of its light cascaded beams of yellow light between those buildings like pure Sulen. One such beam was shining against the glass surface of The First Bank of Manhattan.

  He smiled.

  He would need a disguise for this. Something to turn the prejudices that these people held on their heads.

  He opened the door and stepped through wearing the skin of the man who’d insulted him earlier. A short electric pulse of Sulen knocked out all of the security cameras in the building.

  Mental trickery did not work so well on technology.

  The tellers noticed him right away. A man in a sharp suit with oily black hair came over and extended his hand with a smile so fake it might as well have been manufactured by machinery.

  “How can I help you, sir?” the man asked. “Here to open an account?”

  Kurt shook his head. “I’m here to make a withdrawal.”

  “Oh, very good—” he gestured with his hand to one of the tellers. “Shelly can help you with that, I’m sure.”

  Kurt nodded and approached the teller. She had a blue and white business suit on. Her auburn hair flowed below her shoulders. She smiled at him
with pearl-white perfect teeth.

  “How can I help you, sir?” she asked.

  “I’m making a withdrawal,” he said.

  “Okay, can you just insert your debit card for me?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, then do you have an account number and some identification?”

  “I’m sorry, you seem to be misunderstanding me. I don’t have an account here.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes flicked to the security guard nervously. “Well, sir, you’re going to need an account to make a withdrawal.”

  “No, I think I’ll just take everything you have instead.”

  Her eyes glanced back to the security guard and then back to him. Her pearl-white smile was gone. “Sir...is this a bank robbery?”

  He smiled. “It is.” His aura surrounded his body, an intense blue flame that licked and burned the countertop. The teller stood back. “And don’t think that your security guards will be able to stop me.”

  “We’ve already called the police.”

  “They can’t help you, either.” He raised his hand to the ceiling, and a vortex of otherworldly blue flames tore the foam ceiling tiles apart, catching them on fire. “If I don’t get what I want, I’m going to burn this entire building to the ground.”

  “How in—”

  Shots fired against his barrier. They ricocheted off of it, making only small ripples. An elderly woman fell to her knees, clutching her leg.

  “Now, look what you’ve done. Keep attacking me and I’ll make sure you’re in far worse shape than that woman is in.”

  The guard lowered his gun. Kurt watched as the tellers worked tirelessly to fill the bag with as much money as they could.

  “And make sure that you do not put exploding ink into those bags,” he said. “I promise you, if you do that, you will all die.”

  The fires had spread to half of the ceiling, filling the entire bank with a haze of smoke .

  “You might want to hurry.” He smiled. “Before the entire building burns to the ground.”

  The tellers handed him three bags of cash. He silenced his flames with the closing of his transparent fist. As he was leaving, he tossed a blinding flash of light over his shoulder, leaving the fools hunched over and covering their eyes. Sirens wailed, and red and blue lights barreled around the corner, but before they could arrive, he was atop the roof, grinning like a madman.

  Kurt had wanted to try that since he first saw a bank robbery on the television.

  He turned his back on the police cars and strolled across the rooftop to safety, changing his disguise back to the appearance of Cory Johnson.

  Sal would be back at the hotel by now. He increased his speed, jumping from rooftop to rooftop until the building was in sight.

  He grabbed the hanging ladder on a fire escape and dropped down. His boots made the fire escape ring like a birdcage that had been smacked with a broom. He jumped twice more until he was near the third floor, where his room was located. He entered through the window. Sal was half-asleep in the chair, his hand resting on a small cigar box.

  “I see you’ve been busy.” Sal’s eyes blinked slowly as he picked his head up from the table.

  “I have indeed,” Kurt said.

  Sal grabbed at the remote to the television and turned it on. The news was playing.

  “I tell you, he had a flame thrower or something, cause he lit the ceiling of the bank on fire and made off with the cash.” The woman on the television was visibly shaken, her name tag tilted on its side and her hair a rat’s nest. “And then he was gone! Like he wasn’t even there!”

  “I thought you said we were going to keep a low profile here?” Sal’s pupils were dilated, his forehead drenched in sweat. “Not going around lighting fucking banks on fire.”

  “Watch your tone. And wait for the police sketch artist to come on.”

  Sure enough, a police sketch appeared on the screen before too long. Kurt smiled.

  “Who the fuck is that?” Sal shook his head, rubbing his eyes. “You just ruined that man’s life!”

  “Some well-to-do Wall Street type, no doubt. He bumped into me and flipped me off, so I returned the favor.”

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re an asshole?”

  “No one that wanted to live long afterward.”

  Sal turned the television off.

  “We’re going to be taking a trip in the morning,” Kurt said.

  “Where to now?” Sal’s speech was starting to slur.

  “Alaska first, then South Africa. I can feel the pieces finally coming together.”

  “Do I get...” His eyes were half-open. “Get a say in this?”

  “No.”

  “Right.” Sal stood up slowly and lumbered over to the other bed, taking the cigar case with him. “Then I’m going to knock out for the night, man.”

  “You sure it’s not because you just shot up with heroin?”

  Sal’s eyes jerked open. “How—”

  “Your pupils are dilated and you’re sweating when it’s cold as a freezer in here, idiot. Poison your body all you like, but if you impede my mission, I will destroy this supply you’ve obtained. Is that understood?”

  Sal nodded lazily.

  “Good.”

  Kurt rose from his seat and moved back to the window. “I need to procure us transportation to Alaska for the morning. You will set your alarm and be ready to pick up our new contact in the morning.”

  “Yes...sir!” Sal saluted him before rolling over on his side, cradling his cigar case as a father embraces a newborn.

  Kurt stepped out onto the fire escape, feeling the stench of the New York air on his skin, and returned to the rooftop.

  Soon he would have what he wanted, and the bargain would be complete.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  LUKE

  The doctor came in with a clipboard, smiled at Luke and his wife, and closed the door behind him.

  Luke’s hands were clasped so tightly together that they were turning purple. “What’s the prognosis, Doc?”

  “Everything looks normal here,” Doctor Wilson said. “Contractions like what your wife describes are quite normal at this stage of the pregnancy. However, you should be on the lookout for when contractions become less than twelve seconds apart.”

  “How soon will the baby be coming?” Adrienne asked. He could tell by the look on her face that she couldn’t wait to meet their child.

  Luke wrung his hands together even tighter. He couldn’t stop thinking about that woman at the morgue—or the nightmares he’d had since.

  “Any day now,” Doctor Wilson said.

  Adrienne tore his hands apart, taking them in her own. “Isn’t that great, honey?”

  He tried to make a smile that was convincing. If he’d still had hair, it would probably be a mess of gray on top by now.

  Luke helped Adrienne back into her wheelchair and pushed her down the long hallway when the appointment was over. She was quiet until they stepped into the elevator.

  “What’s eating you, Luke?” she asked.

  Luke pressed the button for the ground floor, where his partner had the squad car waiting. “Nothing.”

  “Don’t give me that! You’ve had a sour face ever since you came home from work the other night.”

  He shook his head. “It’s just work.”

  That wasn’t it, exactly. He knew what was eating at him. It was the woman in the morgue. The woman who shouldn’t have been alive, but was. The thought of her being on some other floor in the very building where they stood now made him feel as though someone was sitting on his grave and reading from the Satanic Bible itself. That woman was somehow connected to the man without hands, the man who’d called himself Kurt to the hospital staff.

  In his nightmares, he stood alone in the morgue, staring at the woman with fuchsia hair and strange, metallic skin. She shouldn’t have been alive, and yet he could feel her heartbeat echoing through the room.

  Her eyes shot open. They were familiar
, like corrupted emeralds.

  He couldn’t look away.

  The last thing he remembered before he woke was the woman sitting up on the slab and approaching him, naked as the day she’d been born. She spread her arms wide. He was drawn to her, couldn’t stop his legs from moving into her embrace. And then her fingers dug into his scalp.

  Terrible things appeared in his mind. Things which slithered and writhed deep beneath the Earth. Things which looked like ancient roots of a tree that was half-worm.

  He remembered feeling sick to his stomach when he’d awoken. He’d felt...violated. As if something had been taken from him in the night.

  Ripped from his mind.

  “There you go zoning out again,” Adrienne said. “Is this how it’s gonna be when our baby is born?”

  Luke held his head; he didn’t want to have this conversation. “Of course not... I already set it up to get time off when the baby comes. If there’s anything important that comes through, Mike can forward me the case info and I can work from home for a bit.”

  Adrienne crossed her arms. “Great! So you’ll be thinking about work the whole time!”

  “I’m the Sheriff! My job is important!”

  “You and I both know that nothing happens in this town. You can afford to let Mike handle things during our maternity leave.”

  They were almost to their destination. “Mike’s waiting for us. We can talk about this later.”

  Adrienne muttered something. The doctor had warned Luke that her hormones would be all over the place. He chalked her attitude up to that and pushed it from his mind.

  The elevator startled him with a loud ding when they reached the ground floor.

  2

  Luke pushed Adrienne’s wheelchair to the curb, where Mike kept the unmarked car running for them. He helped her into the back seat and put a few pillows behind her back so she’d be more comfortable.

  “Hurry up, will you,” Mike said. “This is technically an abuse of police resources.”

  “I doubt Internal Affairs will mind,” Luke said.

  Mike chuckled as Luke closed the door and got in the passenger seat.

  “Holy shit,” Mike said. “You didn’t do the thing!”

  “What thing?” His wife asked.