King's War kobc-3

by Maurice Broaddus

  A wood-chipper truck stopped in the middle of the street, held up by the melee. A mailman kicked his feet up in his truck, drinking a pop and watching the show. Someone shouted "they're coming to arrest your ass" as the police, an ambulance, and a fire truck pulled up.

  Emotions over-crowded Lott's brain. Nostalgia. Guilt. Shame. Loss. Parts of him no longer wanted the obligations of friendship because it reminded him of old times, which was too much for him to handle. They knew who he was, what he was, and how he did things. They cheered him on as he rampaged through life. They exalted his exploits and not-so-secretly thrilled then encouraged him to greater heights of violence. Then they dropped him when he became inconvenient to them though called on him when they needed him. He wanted to bray about being used, perhaps muster up the energy to play the martyr, but he could only manage enough to feel sorry for himself.

  Percy knew the neighborhood. Black folks, white folks, Hispanic folks — united by their ubiquitous poverty more than anything else — settling into isolated pockets within the community. Living mostly comfortably, sometimes not so, among each other. He also knew the houses on the block.

  And he believed even houses became ghosts haunting neighborhoods.

  Set away from the street and somewhat distanced from the surrounding houses, as if they shrank away from it preferring to crowd the rest of the block, the two-story house at Michigan Street and Dearborn Avenue loomed over the intersection. An old Tudor-styled home with a spire as a turret. Two stone, winged lions guarded its entrance. The entire property was fenced by razor wire, designed to echo the women's facility just west of it. That was how the house appeared to most, but when Percy walked by it, out the corner of his eye, or perhaps though a disturbance in his spirit, the house was greater. A many-roomed mansion, three stories. A red castle with flourishes of turrets. An egg-shaped keystone with a tower, the illumination of a winter's solstice within its sacred geometry.

  "You sure this is the place?" Lott asked.

  "Aren't you? You knew it, too."

  A fact Lott couldn't argue. "We got to clear this fence. You up for it, Percy?"

  "What about Kay?"

  "Can't he wait here?"

  "He needs to go with us."

  "Okay." Lott eyed the dog, who lowered itself as if trying to shrink. "I'll carry Kay."

  They scouted the perimeter of the house. The property took up much of the block with the alley behind it littered with rocks and overgrown shrubbery. A poplar tree grew barely within the property, thick, low-lying branches stretched over. Percy lifted Had up to the branch. Scrabbling up with a natural grace, the small boy scampered along the branch and landed in the yard before either Percy or Lott could tell him to wait. Percy grunted as he hefted his bulk up, heaving a massive leg over the branch, which bent in quiet submission to his mass. Taking advantage of the lowered branch, Lott scooped up Kay and began to slide onto the branch, as Percy slid along. The branch creaked and strained under the weight of all three. Not wanting to risk his friends, Percy tumbled awkwardly out of the tree, landing hard.

  "You okay?" Lott tried to keep his voice down.

  "I'm all right." Percy was slow to get up, and limped toward Had.

  Crossing over the razor wire, Lott allowed Kay to leap down before dropping down behind him. The tree branches shadowed a stone at its base. Surrounded by strange symbols, the number 1362 carved into it. Percy traced them with his finger. They seemed important, but he didn't know how to interpret them. He wished King or Merle were here as they were so much smarter than him and always seemed to know what to do. He missed his friends. They all seemed so sad these days. Big Momma always gave him a hug when he was depressed like this. Lott looked like he needed a hug. So Percy wrapped his huge arms around him.

  Lott instinctively flinched, unsure how to react, struggling against the embrace at first. Then, he relaxed, succumbing to the act of being loved.

  "What was that for?" Lott asked.

  "You looked like you needed it."

  "Now?"

  "Why not now?"

  "I… thanks, Percy." Lott clapped him on the arm and gave it a squeeze. The darkness in him shifted a bit.

  Lott turned toward the house. Had tugged at his pant leg, gesturing for him to bend over. When he leaned down, Had wiped a tear from his face he didn't realize was there, then threw his slight arms around him, too. He didn't understand everything that was going on. But he knew when people were hurting and wanted to take away their pain.

  "Okay, li'l man. I get it. Thanks." Lott was a strong man. Not one prone to admitting when something inside him broke, like an ice sheath cracking. "Come on."

  They moved in silence, though Percy strained to keep his lumbering gait quiet. Had's lightness made him mobile. Filled with the swell of mission and purpose, Lott took point. The rear patio doors were unlocked. Percy had the sensation of the house being larger on the inside than on the outside. They skulked along a thin hallway, Percy edging slowly at an angle to allow him to pass through. The servants' hallway opened into a linen room. Empty cupboards, cabinet doors removed from their hinges, covered in cobwebs against the creeping black of mold as the original wallpaper was exposed in patches, where not shorn from the wall.

  They entered the dining room from the pantry. A boarded-up side door led out to a porch. One of the occupants had attempted at some point to lay down a stretch of carpet. Old glue streaked the wood floor along with blobs of paint, matted by half-rotted pieces of carpet in places.

  Having squatted in his share of homes, Percy recognized one when he entered it. However, with this much room — larger inside than it should be, as if they'd entered a new space entirely — there should be many folks staying there. In some of his spots, if it was a good place, he couldn't stop others from coming in and claiming a room.

  Kay growled. Had patted his side to reassure him.

  Strange illumination filled the house as if emanating from the walls themselves. They approached the living room, with its curving wall, when the stench first hit them. Rotted meat mixed with the pungent smell of thick ammonia. And piles of shit. A cloying animal musk coated their tongues. The living room opened into a large foyer with a domed ceiling.

  The creature parading about in it stopped them in their tracks.

  A strange amalgamation of animals. White downy chest, with brown wings tucked in over its body, the feathers swept up its front to the face of a falcon. It had the forelegs of a large bird yet the hind legs of a lion producing its awkward gait. The rear half of the creature's long and sleek body, starting behind its elegant shoulders, was that of a jungle cat. Thick plates of muscles, mostly hidden by the draping wings, eventuating in a tail which was the body of a huge python, swishing about with an unsettling slither.

  Lott pushed the boys back around the corner. When he peered around again, the beast's falcon head turned his direction, its eyes focused with the pupil dilation of spotting prey. But it remained frozen as if daring him to come out. It guarded a double staircase, steeped in shadows. Had snuggled into Kay, not so much scared as much as reassuring the dog that he was okay. Kay licked his cheek.

  "Ever see anything like that?" Percy asked.

  "I saw a heron once. It looked lost, like it meant to land somewhere else. But it walked around like it owned the place before it took off again," Lott said.

  "I seen hawks and falcons fly downtown and nest in buildings. A snake once. I don't like snakes. Nothing like that."

  "You all get out of here. I can't let you go on."

  "What about the cup? What about King?" Percy asked.

  "I'll get it. I owe King that much. But it's too dangerous for-"

  "Kids?" Percy fixed his heavy-lidded eyes on Lott, filled with determination, pride, and a distinct lack of fear.

  "All right, but you stay behind me. Looks like its only interested in guarding the stairs. So whatever we want has got to be up there."

  "You going to fight it?"

  Lott studied the sheen o
f muscles rippling along the creature's flank, the sharpness of the claws, and the sharp downward arc of its huge beak — itself larger than his head. "Um, no."

  He scanned the room quickly for a weapon. It had been stripped of everything of value. Not even a door remained. Nor any grates for any of the vents. He pulled at the trim at the doorway until a section gave way. Filled with a stiffness, Lott's muscles still ached from his recent attacks. He hefted it, getting a feel for its weight. Holding it out like a lance, he checked around the corner. The creature had ceased its pacing, waiting in a half-crouch like cats were wont to do, waiting for them to make a move. Impenetrable patience in its eyes.

  "New plan," Lott said. "I'll distract it while you all run up the stairs. It's so large, it can't follow us up."

  Lott charged the mosaic beast, jousting with the stretch of door trim. Percy took Had by the hand and immediately pressed against the wall to follow its perimeter toward the stairwell. The creature sprang toward them, drawn by their movement, but Lott crashed into its side at full speed. The feathers around its head raised in shock and fury as it turned to him. He backed away from where the boys crept around. It snapped at him, its huge beak opening to reveal a dark pink maw. Fluttering in an unfelt breeze, its wings spread in a flare as the boys scampered behind it. It pounced at Lott, propelled by its powerful rear cat legs, its clawed talons skittering with a thunderous clickclick-click against the hardwood floors.

  Lott lunged out of its way, barely avoiding a swipe which would have sent his entrails spilling out against the wall like a dashed pumpkin. Scrabbling against a litter of bones, he slipped on the thick paste that might have been its urine. The boys disappeared into the darkness of the stairwell. Lott dashed to the left then to the right, seeking to juke his way past it, but each move was met with the creature cutting off any path toward the stairs. It toyed with him now, its head cocked at a curious angle as if deciding whether to plunge its beak into his eye sockets or reduce him to a crimson smear with its claws.

  Claws raked across his shoulders, producing scarlet stripes. Thrown off balance, he stumbled about and whirled at the sound of a terrible screech. It hurtled through the air. Lott pivoted away from the lethal talons, barely avoiding the scrape of chitin against the wood floor. Lott shouted, hoping to startle it, threw the piece of wood at it, then broke to his right in a full-out dash toward the stairwell. Hit in the face, the creature flapped its wings again, the powerful breeze knocking Lott off balance as it hooked its claws onto his face. It lifted him into the air, the susurrus of his screams seeming to please it. Opting not to crush his skull on the spot, it flung him across the room. Lott slammed against it, falling to the ground like limp meat, his fall broken only by landing in a pile of its excrement. Its horrible tail wrapped around his leg, drawing him toward it, squeezing him to the point where he could no longer feel. The rest of the creature's body turned to inspect him. It reared back, preparing to dive its beak directly into his chest.

  With a snarl, Kay leapt from the shadows, landing on the creature's back. He tore into the scruff of the beast's neck, his jaws clamping down on its thick cords of muscle. The creature let loose a screech. Lott grabbed the nail-studded piece of wood and swung it into the side of the beast's head. The head jerked and it toppled though it raked a claw through the air, catching Kay in his side. He winced, his flesh opened in red gashes. Fearing the creature might renew its assault, Lott sprang between it and Kay, poised to club it again, but the creature didn't stir. Its chest rose and fell. Lott glanced at Kay then, filled with rage, turned back to the creature to smash its skull in. He stood there, rooted to the spot, its still form beneath him. Releasing the spear of wood, he scooped up Kay and climbed up into the waiting darkness of the stairs.

  The shadows steepened with every step, closing in on him with a pressing closeness. It seemed to swirl and congeal, eddies of darkness, shadows within shadows.

  "Percy?" Lott cried out. The darkness swallowed his words. "Had?"

  Kay, bundled in his arms, lightened. Immaterial, as if dissolving in the umbra fog. Lott's heart quickened. Every muscle in his arms and legs throbbed with ache. He mentally traced each gash as each wound throbbed. The quiet times only made him reflect on his pain.

  The dark grew deeper still. Lott inched along the stairwell. Traumatized and numb. Disembodied, he was a lost soul cast adrift in an obsidian sea. Bruises of metal and insulation underneath electrical boxes and tentacles of wires tripped him as he skulked. His hand pressed against the wall, like a blind man in a labyrinth, searching for anything which allowed him to believe he was still real. Paint flaked from the walls beneath his touch. The distinct smell of cat piss filled his nostrils. Somewhere in the distance, he swore he heard someone humming "Jesus Loves the Little Children".

  "Percy?"

  "Good-working, conscientious thieves." With the strange acoustics of the stairwell, the voice boomed from everywhere at once. "Young and inexperienced. Wandering an unknown land, ravaged by war."

  "I don't understand."

  "You only pass if you speak true. You have three chances. Who are you?"

  "Lott."

  "Liar. You have never been the man you believed yourself to be."

  "But I…" Lott began.

  "What do you seek?"

  "I seek the grail."

  "Liar. You seek what we all seek. Forgiveness. Redemption."

  "I…"

  "Where were you when she needed you? When she needed you to be the man you claimed you were. Hoped you were. Where were you?"

  "I don't know. I was lost."

  "Ask the question," the voice commanded.

  "What question?" Lott asked.

  "Ask the question. The one you truly want to know the answer to."

  "Where is the grail?"

  "Liar. Will you ever be forgiven? By God. By your friends. By yourself. For you… darkness."

  The night swallowed Lott.

  Percy emerged onto the second floor. He leaned against the wall next to the stairwell, then slid down it until his butt hit the floor and he slumped against his knees. The darkness frightened him, the voice moreso. It troubled him, in a too-knowing sort of way, so he pushed the entire encounter out of his mind. Two bedrooms faced the front of the property and two bedrooms faced the rear, the large master suite before him. A barrel-vaulted ceiling towered above him. Had trundled out of the darkness of the stairwell, innocent eyes nonplussed, and squatted down beside Percy.

  "You hear the voice?"

  Had nodded.

  "It scare you?"

  Had shook his head.

  "Really? It scared me. A little. Kind of like a storm."

  Had cocked his head as if admiring or studying the movement of Percy's mouth.

  "It asked me secret things."

  Had stared at him with no recognition in his eyes.

  "Think we should wait for Kay? Or Lott."

  Had peered into the darkness, then shook his head no, as if he, too, knew secret things.

  "Okay." Percy scrambled to his feet and took Had by the hand. He checked each of the two rooms overlooking the backyard. Each room was empty. He walked past the door to the master suite to the other rooms. The two facing the front were identical. Both had huge walk-in closets and bathrooms with broken toilets. Both had a bedroll in the corner. And both had clear views of the winged lion statues.

  "Edward and Hugh," Percy said. "They look like an Edward and Hugh."

  Had smiled at him.

  Percy led them back to the master suite and turned the doorknob. Across the room was another door. Between them and that door was a man seated in a wicker chair. With a thin but muscular build, his jersey showed off the measure of his tattoos. Half of his body, like a living X-ray detailing his skeleton. Though his face was too thin, his eyes, hazel and glassy, were determined. He exuded power and fierceness. The man wasn't one to cross.

  "You a long way from home, hese." Black made no effort to move, just stood there as if entranced. His ey
es fixed on the large boy, perhaps assessing him, perhaps dismissing him, perhaps not really seeing him.

  "Not really. I live just up the street," Percy said. Still holding his hand, Had slipped behind him.

  "You lost?" Black took their measure in a glance. If he perceived a threat, he didn't let on.

  "No. Just looking for something."

  "You 'just looking for something' in my house?" Black said. "You like Christopher Columbus and shit. 'Discovering' a land already occupied by people."

  "This is your house?" Percy gaped about in awe. "It's nice."

  "I stay here. You got to have a place to lay your head. No one knows that really. Only the people I trust most."

  "I don't know you."

  "I know. So when you say you up in my house 'just looking for something', guess that makes you a thief. We know how to handle thieves around here."

  "I'm no thief."

  "What are you looking for?"

  "A cup. It used to belong to a friend of mine. It had a… ring inside."

  "So now you calling me a thief?"

  "No," Percy said unblinking and unafraid. "I thought… I was told it might be here."

  "Who told you that?"

  "Another friend."

  "Your friend tells stories," Black said.

  "Yeah. He does that sometimes."

  "Why you want it back so bad? It valuable?"

  "I don't know. I was told it could help a friend. He's sick."

  "What's the matter with him?"

  "He was shot and now won't wake up."

  Calculations filled Black's eyes and he tugged at his glove. "You a friend of King's?"

  "Yeah."

  "That motherfucker needs to burn. Along with any motherfucker that stands with him." Black removed his glove and held it in front of his face, both admiring and loathing it. He glared at Percy, his anger prematurely exposed. Not solely anger, but despair. A huge void, the sheer immensity of the pain and loss, threatened to devour him where he stood if he didn't constantly tend to it. Which also fueled his anger.

  "Why?" Percy didn't move. The way the man held his hand out, he was afraid threat underscored the gesture.