Ferdie and the Seven: book two: Time Flies

by Larry Buenafe

  “Yes, sweet!” I exclaimed, and off we went, up the road heading north.

  We were about twenty miles north from the AstroBurger, driving slowly so that we would notice any dirt roads, or any sign of the RV turning off the road and going east. After about an hour of looking, we finally found an old, rutted path off to the right. We knew we were on the right track, so we turned off and bumped and careened into the desert. “Whoa! We’re going to have to go really slow out here. It would be a big problem to get a flat in this heat,” grunted Denise, and I nodded in firm agreement. We continued bouncing down the old trail for what felt like an hour, and came upon a small hill. The path curved around on an incline, and there hidden and shaded by the mound was the RV.

  “Wow, what a great spot! No one will see it out here. This will be perfect to finish our Divide and Conquer strategy, and we can return here when we’re done, far away from the chance of any people getting harmed because they are around us. I mean around me.”

  “Yep. Let’s go in, see what’s happening.”

  We had a good reunion with everyone, and the RV was comfortable inside thanks to the roof being covered by solar panels, which powered the air conditioning. The conversation eventually went to strategizing, with ideas and suggestions coming fast and furious. A sudden thought came to mind: “Hey, the one who was possessing Pasquale said that we would hear from him in three days’ time. That was Sunday. So, did that three days’ time include Sunday? Because if it did, then we should hear from him tomorrow, but if it doesn’t include Sunday, then we shouldn’t hear from him until Wednesday. I wish I knew which way he meant it.”

  Immediately, as if The Others were listening to me, Pasquale began shaking and convulsing again, and he fell to the floor of the RV with his face screwed up into a mask of pain. “Everyone get back!” I shouted, and leaned in close to his face once again. Same as before, after a few moments Pasquale turned and looked directly into my eyes.

  “Sorry, Ferdie, change of plans,” came the gravelly, strangely accented voice. “I just couldn’t wait, so I’m carrying out my little display a day early.” Ok, got to try again… maybe there’s a different way in, a back door or something… if I can just get to him… the whole thing is just a construct in my mind, anyway… suppose I just imagine a hall that has two doors for Pasquale’s room? Worth a try…

  “Oh, this is so much fun. For me, that is… Ferdie, you remember that lovely little town, Carloforte, on that glorious island, Isola Di San Pietro? Of course you remember that is where you both found and lost your great hope, Leonardo Sanna. He was a bit of thorn in my side, that one. At any rate, idyllic, yes?”

  Keep talking dummy, I’m coming to get you… Ha! There it is… door number two…

  “On any given day, there are about eight thousand people in that beautiful village, but not today. No, not by a long shot. In fact, today, Carloforte has an official population of zero.”

  Ok, slowly, quietly… he doesn’t know I set up a second door! Come on, open up… just a little bit… I peeked through the door, and saw him at the far side of Pasquale’s mind. He was much larger than anyone I had ever seen in a mind, although still mostly obscured by shadows and darkness, and I couldn’t make out any features. I could feel him though, and there was no mistaking who he was. I gathered up all the energy available to me and sent it hurtling his way; the ball of energy filled up almost the whole space, leaving little room to avoid it; I could tell that he was surprised that I was able to get in, and then the massive ball of energy struck him; all the energy I could muster hit him squarely, and he stumbled, obviously stunned; he shook his head as if to clear it, then looked at me; I still couldn’t see his features, but I could tell… he was smiling. An equally large and angry-looking bolt of energy was flying my way, and I closed the door just before it could strike me.

  There was a brief delay, and I thought perhaps I had run him off, but the voice coming from Pasquale continued: “Well, not bad for a first try, Ferdie… I must admit that was very clever, the way you were able to get past my defenses. I’m not sure anyone else would have been able to do so, and I put that as a mark in your favor. However, you will have to get much stronger if you intend to do any real damage, and I don’t think you have the time or the will for that to happen. Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, all the inhabitants of the lovely little town of Carloforte are now, shall we say, former inhabitants… it’s quite a sight, I assure you. Ferdie, I think you should go there personally. Watching on the Telly will be so two-dimensional. You will not get the full affect. Then, afterwards, you may want to reconsider: shall it be a knife, or a step off a bridge, almost any method will do. But I would do it quickly, because there’s more to come, of that you can be sure. Again, nice effort Ferdie, I like the moxie. Ta ta, now…”

  Just as before, he was gone and Pasquale shook his head vigorously, having no memory of his possession. I felt an uncontrollable combination of rage and anguish building in me; I screamed at the top of my lungs, incoherent; I tapped my head like a madman; I bolted into the in-between, and in less than an instant I was standing in the town square of Carloforte, on Isola Di San Pietro, Sardinia, Italy.

  Chapter 26

  The weather was cool and overcast, but no rain. It was nighttime, but the area was fairly well illuminated by streetlights. I turned slowly, standing on the raised rim of the fountain in the town square, making a full circle in place; then my mind split, one side frozen with revulsion and the other side in a sort of out-of-body experience. It felt as if that was the only thing that was keeping me from losing my mind utterly and completely. The streets spread out from the town square in a wagon wheel pattern, and starting right at the fountain at the center of the town square were bodies lined up neatly, two by two, lying in rows going back into the city streets as far as the eye could see. In my out-of-body side, I thought, ‘It must have taken a lot of effort to line up all these bodies like this; I wonder why they did it?’ On the other side of my mind, there was nothing but terrified screaming.

  As I gazed out at the carnage, it became apparent that The Others, or at least their master, were going for a certain aesthetic; the slaughter had been organized so that the bodies going down one street were burned beyond recognition, and the bodies on the next street had different kinds of what appeared to be stab or slash wounds. Some were missing body parts, some had gaping holes in the chest, and others had their throats cut clean through. The next street, burned, the following slashed, all very organized, ad nauseam. From the out of body side of my mind: ‘Ok, dudes, I get the point. This definitely qualifies as overkill. So you had angels fry half of them, and you got the rest to kill one another through mind control. Pretty obvious strategy if you ask me.’ This level of horror, this level of evil, can’t be fathomed. It can’t be understood. It can’t be allowed to exist. But it’s not just existing, it’s flourishing; it’s succeeding. How is this possible? Why? There is no answer…

  I continued to turn, my hands on my head, holding my eyes open. I need to see this… I need to use it to give me the strength to do what I know must be done… I can’t bear this weight… I can’t… he’s right, I’m too weak… he said he’d stop if I… if I end it, but he won’t really stop, will he… if I’m gone, at least I won’t have to witness it… but can I just let them go on killing everyone until no one is left? So many people, so many dead… but if I wasn’t here, wouldn’t they have already killed more? They fear me for some reason… I have something they can’t account for, but I don’t know what it is…

  Then, I looked down, and right at my feet, as if set up on purpose, Were Piero, the young man Denise and I sat next to and joked with on the bus, and Giancarlo, the deckhand we befriended while crossing from Sardinia to Isola Di San Pietro. They were lying side by side, and were slash victims. That’s so I’ll know who they are… It looks like they are looking up at me, but they can’t be… oh, I can’t take this, I just can’t… but what about Ling, and Gabriella, a
nd Rafael, and Denise, and Pasquale, and Aunt Martha? What about Ariel? What about Marsh? I can’t just leave all of them, abandon them… but they’d probably be better off without me… they wouldn’t be targets if I wasn’t around…

  Back in the out-of-body part of my mind, I had a nagging thought: ‘Don’t get an overblown sense of self-importance, Ferdie… you didn’t cause this, they’re just focusing on you to get you out of the way. If it wasn’t you, it would just be someone else.’ Then I slapped myself hard across the face, which I reckoned counted for a couple hundred head taps, and once again dipping into my rational side, decided to walk around the town to see if there were any survivors.

  Not likely, but worth a try… I walked up and down the streets, now emotionally separated from the death surrounding me; I was only looking for movement or any kind of sound that might mean a survivor was near. By the time I had reached the end, there were boats pulling up to the docks and the crews were running around the piers, shouting and gesticulating wildly. Obviously they had discovered the bodies.

  Ok, that’s it… I’m done, I can’t do this anymore…and I faded away, into the in-between.

  Chapter 27

  It’s hard to feel suicidal when you’re on the good side of the in-between. I stared out at the universe, with constellations and galaxies clearly in view, the Good Line running across, seemingly forever. Seeing its infinite rainbow of hues and feeling its pull will change your mood. It didn’t help me, though. I just can’t get past this… should I really end it all? I don’t think it’ll solve anything, except maybe my guilt… but what am I supposed to do? I can’t just stand by and let this happen again… maybe if we just carry through with our plan… I don’t know, it might work on a small scale but I don’t think we’ll make any major dent in their armor, and then we will have burned that strategy… it would never work again... I can’t go without finding Ariel… unless she’s already… oh, crap, I don’t want to think about that…

  I’m not sure how long I stood there looking out at the Good Line and crying. I thought about all of my friends, how they left everything to join me in hopes of stopping The Others, how I let them all down, and of all the people who died along the way. I convinced them we had a chance but we never really did, and I knew it all along… I was just hoping somehow… but Gabriella said it, and Old Leo said it, the answer is in the power to create… I just can’t work out what that means... why can’t I figure it out? Seems like a simple statement…

  I stood quietly, deciding what I had to do and trying to get myself to do it. As if in answer to my anguish, from directly behind me, I heard the most perfect, beautiful sound I had ever experienced; a strong, very familiar voice, saying: “Well, Ferdie, I heard you’ve been having a bit of a struggle. I was wondering if you could use some help from a former demon turned angel.”

  I spun around, and there he was, as if he had never left: Arnie Hayward. I couldn’t help it, I lunged at him and grabbed him in a very un-manly hug, and I didn’t care; I bawled, and I didn’t care. Arnie returned my hug, patting me on the back softly, saying, “Ok, ok buddy. It’s ok.”

  When I was able to speak, I managed, “Arnie, how… what… I don’t understand…”

  Arnie smiled and held me out at arms-length, saying, “Well, Ferdie, as it turns out, your little friend Marshall is even cleverer than we thought. He has somehow convinced some very powerful friends that you need my help. And, Ferdie, I owe you a debt I can never repay, so consider this a down-payment. The Time Flies have returned me here as an adult angel, no need to start as a baby this time.”

  “Wait, so you know about the Time Flies?”

  Arnie grinned again, and said, “Don’t worry, Ferdie. I know and agree with your strategy of withholding information about the Time Flies. If knowledge of them proliferated, it would most likely be highly problematic. I’m quite sure you know you don’t have to worry about me. I will not speak of it.”

  Then, Marsh-dog appeared right next to Arnie. “Dude, I thought that mush-fest would never end.”

  “Marsh, how… what…”

  He put on a sad smile. “Dude, I’ve never seen you at a loss for words before. Remember, I told you I was working on a special project with the Time Flies? This is it. I knew we could use some help, and I don’t know anyone better than this dude right here.”

  Arnie looked at Marsh-dog with his signature half smile, and said, “Thank you Marshall. And I don’t think I need to remind you, please don’t call me dude.”

  “Oh, right, du… I mean Arnie.”

  Man, did I ever need this… I was ready to give up, but we have a chance now… I turned to them and said, “Ok, so what are we going to do?”

  They shared a glance, and then Arnie’s face turned very dark, as he answered: “Why, Ferdie, you know what we are going to do. We are going to make them pay.”

  Epilogue

  Snow was falling gently, a frequent occasion in the far north. Sporadic fields of row crops dotted the landscape, although those not yet harvested were destined to wither and die in the fields from the wrath of the oncoming winter. At the back of one such field, near an ancient, rickety barn, seventeen-year-old Junie Bing was being interrogated. She was merely first in line; fifteen other teenagers stood off to the side, shivering and crying, with fourteen large and imposing adults standing guard. Three adults sat in front of the mammoth barn doors, at a lengthy, rustic wooden table. On the left, a young Hispanic female, paralyzed on her right side, perhaps from a stroke or injury; on the right, a tall, slender, bespectacled man who appeared to be of Indian or perhaps middle-eastern descent; his left arm was missing. In the center sat an immense figure, his jet-black hair slicked back carefully. Strangely, it was difficult to look at his face; it seemed to shift as it was gazed upon, as if seeing it somehow caused double vision.

  The man in the center spoke, his voice low and rumbling; although speaking English, there was an unusual accent that was hard to place. “So, miss… Junie, is it? An unusual name, yes?”

  Junie stood cowering in front of the three. She opened her mouth to answer, but no sound came out. Her golden hair hung limply about her face, and, despite the cold, she appeared to be sweating profusely.

  The man in the center continued: “Yes, well, under the circumstances, I can understand your reticence. Nevertheless, it would be in your best interest, and in the best interest of all of your friends behind you, to tell me what I need to know. I believe that you, or one of your cohorts, know where the girl is. You know the one I am referring to. The sister, the one called Ariel. This is of great importance to me, and I expect absolute truthfulness, or there will be a rather unpleasant penalty to pay. Now, are you prepared to do the right thing? Just tell me where she is and this whole sordid affair can be over. In other times, I would have had my companion here to your left, Miss Aida Fernandez, simply go into your mind and extract the information I want. She is one of a very exclusive group called The Seven… terribly unimaginative name, that. Unfortunately, she has been… damaged, shall we say, by the brother, and we must find the sister to lure him in. I am also one of this group, The Seven; unfortunately, I have another side, an additional, shall we say, supernatural side, which prevents me from using that very special ability. Nevertheless, while I lack in that arena, I have some other talents that make that deficit acceptable, to say the least. So Junie, please, do speak now.”

  Although shaking uncontrollably, she did her best to speak. It came out a chattering mess: “I-I-I d-d-d-ont-t-t kn-n-n-n-ow…”

  The big man spoke again: “Now, now, Junie, please do calm down. There is nothing to fear… unless, of course, you fail to provide me with the information about which I am inquiring… in that case, I am afraid that there is quite a lot to fear. So, let’s try again, shall we?” and the big man rose, walked slowly around the table, and came to a stop within arm’s length of her. He favored her with a serene smile, and in a low voice, said, “Alright, Junie, one more time, and this will be the last ti
me I ask you, so please do get yourself together. There, you can do it, yes?”

  She continued to shake, but managed to nod affirmatively. “Now, Junie, tell me, in general, where is the sister? Although it would be appreciated, I don’t expect an exact location, as that may be asking too much, but I really must have an answer.”

  Junie’s legs would no longer support her, and she fell to her knees; she stammered, “I-I-I really want to-to-to help you, I-I-I do. She-she-she’s in the, the, the… she’s in the woods north of our town. In the woods, I swear.”

  The big man looked down with an exaggerated expression of pity on his vague, shifting face. He kneeled next to her and said, “Now, now, we both know that’s not true, don’t we? I understand that you are afraid, but lying will not help you now. She’s not really in the woods, is she?”

  Junie’s hands rose in a futile attempt to guard her face, and she sputtered, “Well, she-she-she might be… I-I-I don’t know, she could-could be there.”

  He sighed mightily. “Oh, Junie, I am so disappointed. I thought we had an understanding, I really did. Unfortunately, you’ve left me no choice but to move on to the next friend-of-the-sister.”

  He stood and offered her his hand. She took it, rising unsteadily, legs trembling. She turned her gaze upward, and watched in horror as his head twisted and contorted, changing shape, morphing into an immense bull’s head with his vague human face in the middle, massive horns sprouting from both sides. She threw her hands in front of her face again, screaming. He spoke, as if an afterthought: “Oh, this? Yes, a little ostentatious, I’ll grant you, but still, effective, yes? And yes, I know the bull’s head has been done before; ancient Greeks, Romans, whomever, but it still does the trick, I think you’ll agree. Let’s just consider it homage to the former gods and to the future one if things go my way. Now the rest of you, please do watch, and let this be a warning to you to tell me what I want to know. Please don’t consider lying to me, as young Junie here has done.”