Tommaso

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  “What is this game that you’re playing?” His black and crimson eyes flickered with rage.

  “What game? I’m merely stating the facts. You’re really disgusting. I mean, thumbs as jewelry? Wait! Don’t tell me. You’re trying to trick people into thinking you’re a hitchhiker. Is that it?” I held out my thumb as if hitching for a ride.

  He simply stared at me.

  “No? Maybe you like using them for other things, then.” I flashed a glance at his groin and motioned up with my thumb. “Oh, that’s pretty nasty. I doubt you’re going to find a lady who’s into that, but who am I to—”

  He reached out his hand in the direction of my neck and squeezed. Though he didn’t touch me, I could feel his large sticky fingers closing my airway.

  Dear gods, he has powers. I tried to stay focused and not panic, because one thing I knew for sure: I would die if this didn’t work.

  “Oh, wow,” I croaked, my voice coming out slow and gritty. “I’m so-o-o impressed. You can do the Vader. I think he died single, too. If only he’d had a thumb necklace.”

  Ta’as’s grip tightened, and I felt like my eyes were going to pop from their sockets. Dammit, Char. Think of something! Cripple his ego! In a crazy flurry of horrific thoughts about these being my final breaths, my mind gravitated toward the one and only topic that plagued every male on the planet, even the damned hot ones who could probably do no wrong in us women’s eyes.

  “I know,” I ground out my words, “that you’re only like this…because…your penis is so small. But I’m sure there’s someone out there, a nice evil girl, who enjoys a flaccid noodle. They say Hitler had the same problem, but even he managed to find a woman.”

  His magic hand of death squeezed harder, and then the world around me faded along with the oxygen supply to my brain. An obscure mist washed over me, and I felt myself blacking out.

  Suddenly, I was falling down that dark, muddy hole again. I screamed with my eyes closed, bracing for the impact of the water that didn’t come. When I opened my eyes again, I wasn’t in that cold, dark, odiferous cenote, but lying in my bed. Oh, God. Oh, God. Not this dream again.

  ~~~

  I was back in my room on that night seven years ago. It was a night I had relived a thousand times in my nightmares—the Maaskab touches me and cuts my skin. Its bloody-looking eyes glow in the dark, paralyzing me with fear. And when I scream, he curls those bloodstained lips into a horrifying smile. But then something happens, and I’m suddenly looking out the window as my mother beats the thing to death. I remembered those few moments like they were yesterday. But the one thing I never remembered was what drove the Maaskab away.

  Why didn’t he kill me? It was just as much of a blank to me then as it is now.

  Fully aware that I was about to relive the nightmare once more, I gripped the sheets with my fists. Suddenly, I saw something move in the dark corner of my room, its massive form catching the light from my alarm clock.

  Shit. I can’t let him do this again. I can’t. But before my brain could process or come up with a way out, his face hovered over mine.

  “Save. Me,” he mumbled in a deep gargle. “Please…save…me…”

  What did he want me to do? I didn’t have a clue, but I saw my chance and took it. I reached for my lamp and swung for his head, only to have it land straight in the palm of his hand.

  Like all of the other times I’d relived this moment, his desperation turned to rage.

  He grabbed me by the hair and flung me to the ground. I screamed as he pulled a large knife from his waistband and drove it down towards me as if he was going to slice me open. But he didn’t. The knife stopped centimeters from my body, and he laughed into the air with delight, enjoying every ounce of fear he provoked.

  “I am really going to enjoy this,” he said in a low, gravelly voice while going to his knees at my side.

  I then felt his ice-cold diseased hands on my skin as he cut my nightgown down the middle, nicking my skin in the process and making me bleed. His eyes lit up with sadistic joy, almost like he fed off my pain and drew strength from it.

  Fight him, Char! Fight him. But there was an invisible tether holding me down.

  He placed his hands on my bare breasts, and knowing what would happen next, I attempted once again to fight him off, only able to manage another scream.

  Suddenly, the lights turned on, and I heard a female voice echo through the room. “Hey, there, Mr. Scabby. Now, Auntie Cimil is gonna give you exactly five point five, five, five seconds to take your icky paws off that human, or I’m gonna cut off your dick and make you eat it.”

  I looked over at the doorway, and there was a crazy-looking redhead wearing a pink scuba mask as a headband.

  Cimil? Fucking Cimil was there? I thought to myself as I watched this memory replay, a spectator in my own hellish nightmare.

  “One tiny little goddess doesn’t frighten me,” he said, rising to his feet.

  Cimil cackled toward the ceiling. “First off,” she held up her index finger, “I really should, because I’m the one you’ll face when your time on this crazy planet is over. And I’ll be makin’ sure you go somewhere special—like the eternal ass-rape clown rodeo. Second off,” she held up two fingers. “That moment is about to come a lot sooner than you think—but I know how people hate spoilers, so I’ll just let that one stew in your nasty noggin. And third,” she held up three fingers, “your five point five, five, five seconds are up.”

  Something—or someone—in white rushed at the Maaskab, and it flew across the room, hitting the wall with a loud thump!

  “Oh! And fourth, I’m never alone.” Cimil raised her arms to make the international symbol of the touchdown.

  “You better run, motherfucker,” said a tall, statuesque blonde wearing a white ’60s-style minidress. “Because I maybe the Goddess of Forgetfulness, but I’ve got about twenty other awesome powers and one of them includes the ability to telepathically remove a man’s privates.”

  The Maaskab picked himself up and bolted out the door.

  “That’s right!” Cimil belted. “Take your crusty nut sack with ya!” She then sighed contentedly and looked at the blonde. “Alrighty, let’s get this one all fixed up.” Cimil pointed to me.

  “What about the Scab?” the blonde asked.

  Still pointing in my direction, Cimil shrugged and then smiled gleefully. “Oh, this one’s mother thought there was a burglar in the house and is presently beating the snot out of him with a golf club, realizing that—”

  The sound of my mother’s scream wailed outside.

  “Ah!” Cimil said cheerily. “Annnd she just realized that ain’t no burglar.”

  “Mom!” I got to my feet and ran to the window, holding the front of my gown closed with my hands.

  Cimil blocked me. “Ewww…you really don’t want to see that. But not to worry, Charlotte honey. I called good old Chuckie for backup. And of course, Minky is always on standby. Your mamma’s gonna be just peachy!”

  “Who are you?” I asked. Of course, now, looking back on this memory, I knew she was Cimil, the Goddess of the Underworld. But that night, I had thought she was just some crazy person who’d shown up with Go-go Boots Barbie to save me.

  Cimil replied, “It doesn’t matter who I am because my sister here is going to make you forget you ever saw us until the moment is right.”

  “Why? And what was that thing? Why did it attack me?”

  Cimil then gave me a look so hard and cold that it made me shrink back. “Because the world is a messed-up place, Charlotte. And we all have our role to play—for the record, this moment wasn’t your big touchdown.”

  What the heck did that mean?

  She went on, “When the time is right, you will remember everything and do something very important. Ta’as is like El Chapo—great at evasion and rarely shows his face—but he’ll show it to you. And then—” she slapped her hands together “—booya!”

  “But I—”

  “Just rem
ember, everyone has a weakness. Even Ass Banana. Go Charlotte!” She pumped her little hand in the air.

  “What the fuuu…?”

  The woman in white stepped forward and grabbed my shoulders. “Okay, honey. Just relax. I’m only going to give you a light dose so it won’t be permanent.”

  ~~~

  I blinked and found myself waking up inside that nasty hut, lying on the muddy jungle floor, my throat burning and windpipe aching.

  “Oh, good. You’re back.”

  I looked up and saw Ta’as still standing there, holding out his clawed hand.

  Oh gods. What was that? All these years, I’d been left to believe that the monster had done the unthinkable and that no one had been there to help me, when in reality I’d been made to forget. I couldn’t fathom why, except that Cimil had wanted me to get to this place, to this exact moment. To do this exact thing.

  I coughed and rolled over, trying to get the air to inflate my lungs again.

  “I changed my mind about killing you,” Ta’as said. “Just yet, anyway.”

  I continued coughing, trying to get to my feet, all the while thinking about what Cimil had said. Ta’as had a weakness. What was it? Of course, stupid Cimil could’ve simply told me, but nooo.

  I am the captain of my own crunch. I am the captain of my own crunch. I can do this.

  “Thank you,” I said, gripping the branches of my rickety hut to hold me up.

  “You’re welcome. I realized that your fiery little heart will be put to better use as my appetizer. And not to worry, you will get to see it for yourself.”

  It just wasn’t enough for him to kill me, was it? He wanted to make me watch. What a butthole.

  “You know,” I pushed out my words in a slow, raspy breath, “I met one of your minions once. My mother beat him to death with a five iron. And now, meeting you, a part of me wonders if that was what he wanted all along. To escape you.”

  “He was weak,” Ta’as snapped.

  The lack of cockiness in Ta’as’s voice signaled that I’d hit a nerve. I wasn’t sure why, but it made me think about what the monster in my room had said: He’d begged me to help him. I never understood what that meant, but now I wondered if what he really wanted was to be freed, through death or otherwise.

  Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Tommaso told me that he’d been taken against his will, brainwashed, and forced to do things he wasn’t proud of. Maybe they were all on the same boat, prisoners of some horrific evil.

  “Cimil told me,” I said, “that the gods killed off almost all of the Maaskab. But maybe they let themselves die. Maybe they’re all trying to get away from their king.”

  Ta’as’s eyes bubbled with rage. “They died because they were weak! Like you.”

  “I’m not weak. I’m observant. And right now, I’m wondering if on the inside you know you’ve turned into this horrible monster that no one will ever love, no woman will ever want, no army will follow willingly. It makes me wonder if deep down inside, you’re just some guy who wants it all to end because there’s no hope of stopping your agony and loneliness.”

  “Wha-wha-what are you trying to do, you witch?” His eyes began glowing bright red like a demonic Halloween decoration.

  “You want to beg for my help, just like the Maaskab who died on my porch, don’t you?”

  He stumbled back, placing his dirt-caked hands over his chest. “What are you doing!” he yelled. “Cease this moment!”

  I couldn’t believe this was happening. “You know I’m saying the truth. You know that you can’t ever be really important.”

  He held out his hand. “Stop. Stop, you witch. Stop!”

  If I weren’t so scared out of my freaking mind, I would’ve laughed at being called a witch.

  All of a sudden, the wind began to gust and the black goo stuck to his skin began flaking off. His disgusting toothy dreads started falling to the ground like dead leaves on a chilly fall day.

  He was changing right before my eyes, and while I wanted to claim it was due to my being a badass, I couldn’t ignore the fact that it simply felt too easy. Like it was all meant to be somehow.

  “All the killing,” I dragged out my words, my breathing still labored, “and all the power in the world won’t make you important. Won’t make you loved.” And it certainly won’t fix your tiny cock.

  He groaned and clawed at his face. “Stop!”

  I could barely speak as he turned from a shadow to an olive-skinned man with blue, blue eyes and a short brown beard. He looked…he looked…he looked like a member of Mumford and Sons.

  “You!” he bellowed. “You’ve ruined me!”

  What came next was the part I wasn’t sure I really saw, but I might almost swear I did: He began crying.

  The man turned and ran, disappearing into the wilderness of the Mexican jungle.

  I could do little more than stand there with my mouth hanging open. I just took down the evilest being on the planet.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  It wasn’t long after Ta’as epic man-tantrum that the last ray of sunlight faded into oblivion and the jungle went still again. Somewhere off in the distance, an animal snorted or cackled or—I didn’t know what to call the noise exactly. I imagined it was a wild boar or perhaps one of those jaguars I’d been warned about.

  Of course, the animals weren’t what frightened me. Tommaso did. And the fact that he hadn’t come for me yet made every part of my body tense. Dammit. I really need to pee. But I wasn’t about to drop trou only to have Mr. Evil T show up.

  As I stood there, gripping the wooden bars, doing my little pee-pee dance, I heard screaming and grunting. Male screaming and grunting.

  I froze and held my breath. Holy hell, what is that?

  More battle cries roared through the night. Oh, shit. Someone was attacked by the Maaskab. That meant Tommaso was under attack!

  “No! Goddammit! No! Let me the fuck out of here!” Not that I would know what to do—I mean, I was clubless and it wasn’t like I would be jumping in to defend the Maaskab. Those suckers wanted to eat my innards. On the other hand, I still held out hope for Tommaso.

  “Dammit!” I yelled.

  After a short moment, the sounds stopped and a dark figure emerged from the jungle, heading right for me. I instinctively backed up until I could go no further.

  “It is time, Charlotte.”

  The face of the shadowed being never came into focus—too dark out now for that—but his gravelly tone was familiar enough.

  “Tommaso, what happened?”

  He didn’t reply, but the door flew open, and I felt myself propelled out. I landed at his feet with a thump. “Guess you’re okay,” I said, shaking my head from the impact.

  Before I knew it, he had me to my feet and was dragging me along by the arm.

  “You need to stop and think, Tommaso. I know that somewhere deep down you don’t really want to do this.”

  “Oh, but I do.”

  “You don’t,” I grunted. “And Ta’as is gone. He turned good and ran off.” I stupidly thought that pointing that out might give him the encouragement to push back on whatever thing had him by the balls.

  “Ah, yes.” He chuckled, leading me up a muddy embankment. “Thank you for that.”

  “Thank me? Why?”

  “Because now that he’s gone, I am the leader of the Maaskab and I have killed off his few remaining followers.” But I’d thought there were only two Maaskab besides Tommaso. Ta’as already recruited new ones.

  We suddenly came into a clearing surrounded by torches. Six or seven Maaskab bodies were piled in the center next to a stone altar. “And now that I’ve killed everyone,” Tommaso said, “I will consume their power.”

  With a sour face, I imagined what that could possibly mean. “You’re going to eat their hearts, aren’t you?”

  “Of course. Starting with yours, Charlotte. The chill inside yours will shut out the voice of the old Tommaso once and for all and free me to start the Maaskab again. Newe
r. Bigger. Stronger.”

  What were they? Glue strips?

  “Tomma—” He yanked me forward so hard that I felt my arm dislodging from the socket. I screamed.

  “Yes. Scream just like that,” he said. “Your pain will make me stronger.”

  “Tommaso, don’t do this. I know you care about me and, somewhere inside, you’re fighting to do the right thing. Please,” I whimpered, in so much pain that I thought I might pass out. “Please fight. I know you’re a good man. With a really big penis.” Okay, that last bit was lame, but if calling Ta’as’s junk “tiny” made him change teams, it wasn’t so ridiculous to think that complimenting Tommaso’s manhood might cure him.

  He threw me over the altar and bound my wrists with thick rope, causing me to scream again—my arm was throbbing and the back of my head wasn’t feeling much better. That was when I caught sight of the huge machete tucked into the waistband of his man thong.

  Oh, God. Oh, God. This was all too similar to my nightmares—the ones where I did not survive.

  He began chanting, tilting his sooty face toward the starry night sky. The language sounded savage, just like him.

  The tears now streaming down my face, all I could do was blubber at this point. “Please,” I cried. “I’m sorry I didn’t fall in love with you at first sight. I’m sorry that the Maaskab took everything from you. I’m sorry that the gods didn’t try to help you. But they didn’t help me either, which is why we have to help each oth—”

  “I changed my mind,” he said in a low, haunting tone. “The sound of your voice is really annoying.” He pulled out a thick piece of knotted rope from somewhere and shoved it into my mouth, tying it tightly around the back of my head.

  “Norrr! You basard! Doan. Doan!” I mumble-screamed.

  He grabbed the knife from his waistband, placed it in his two hands, and raised it up over my heart.

  Oh, fuck! “Norrr, Tommao!”

  “Put that fucking knife down this instant!” yelled a panting female voice just at the edge of the torchlit clearing.