The room falls silent. Everybody waits for me to respond, but I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Maybe it’s obvious to Jed, but I haven’t a fucking clue.
“Well?” the Rev says. “Is someone gonna say something or what? You’re all freaking me out.”
Jed sits back in his seat, relaxed. He stares at me, awaiting a response I’m not going to give. After a few more moments, he says, “All right, let’s talk about the harvesters. The harvies.”
“Okay, well, what about them?” I ask.
“Well, as you done already described them,” Jed says, “they’re almost like ghosts. White, pale, generally pretty fuckin’ creepy lookin’. But why do they exist?”
“Oh!” Molly says, sitting forward. “They harvest! It’s right there in the name.”
“Well, yeah,” Jed says. “But what do they harvest?”
I think about the cooler back at the drugstore. “Organs. They harvest human organs.”
Jed nods, smiling. “Right you are, Bobby. How do they harvest, though? What makes them so special? Why can’t just any guy do the job? Why does Indigo need these things specifically?”
I stare at him, waiting for an answer.
“Because,” he says, “harvies possess a rather special gift. A regular human, they cut a person’s heart out, it goes bad within a matter of hours—if that. But a harvey, well, harvies are different. They’re able to pull a heart out of a human body and still allow it to continue beating. With a harvey, life continues, even if the organ in question is no longer connected to where it’s supposed to be connected.”
“How?” Molly asks.
And suddenly everything makes sense. Jed doesn’t have to explain any further. I know what he’s going to say before he even says it. I stand up, pacing the kitchen of the cabin.
“Because,” I finally say, “harvies are telekinetic.”
Jed’s smile widens. “Indeed so. They are able to force organs to live whether they want to or not. They possess powers unlike anything we’ve ever seen before. They look at a heart and tell it to beat and it beats. They are gods. They are monsters. They are insane.”
I sit back down, silent. My thoughts run wild.
“Which,” Jed says, “as you’ve probably already thought of, is quite similar to your little mind problem. Seeing as, like the harvies, you’re also telekinetic.”
“Oh, shit,” Molly says.
“Oh, shit is right,” I whisper.
“What?” the Rev says. “I don’t get it.”
“I’m a harvey,” I say. “Or, at least, some kind of harvey. I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.”
“My guess is,” Jed says, “is Indigo tried turnin’ you into one of his little pets, and something went wrong, so they dumped you in the river. But you weren’t completely dead like they thought. And now, despite your memory loss, you still have some of the abilities of a harvey. Like the telekinesis.”
“What about the spider?” I ask. “What does that have to do with me? Why was it inside of me?”
Jed shrugs. “I have no fucking idea, man. Maybe spiders have something do with harvies. I don’t know.”
“I have this memory,” I say. “Me and this other guy, we were hunting one of these harvies. I don’t know why, but we were. We had this whistle. For some reason, the whistle really fucked up the harvey, like it deconstructed it or something. A whistle, of all things. I don’t know. Like any of this makes sense, right?”
“Right,” the Rev says. “Clearly you’re insane.”
“That’s okay, though,” I say. “I’d have to be insane to believe any of this shit. But anyway, once we found this...this harvey, and we used the whistle, the thing, the fucking thing blew up, and in its place were lots of spiders. Same thing back at the drugstore, with the harvey exploding and the spiders. The same kind that you guys pulled from my neck.”
Jed nods, as if everything I’m saying makes sense. Even I don’t think it makes sense, so this guy is clearly psychotic.
“So,” he says, “the connection’s there, we just don’t understand why the spiders affect both you and the harvies. I ain’t no scientist, so maybe this would all seem obvious to someone smarter than me. Hell, maybe you’ll get a chance to ask Indigo yourself.” He pauses a moment, then smiles. “But not if I can help it.”
“To be honest,” the Rev says, finishing off his beer, “I don’t even believe this fucker does have any powers. I haven’t seen shit. Dude’s screwing with all of us.”
I kick his leg with the bottom of my funny bunny slipper. “I told you already, I can’t control it. It only seems to happen as a last resort, like some sort of self-defense mechanism. You dick.”
The Rev rubs his leg and looks at Molly. “What about you, then? Have you seen Bobby ‘in action’?”
Molly giggles. “Well.”
“I mean the mind voodoo.” He shakes his head. “For fuck’s sake.”
She pauses, thinking about it, then says, “Actually, no...”
“Bullshit,” I say. “Back at the apartment, I broke the window, then I crushed that asshole’s windpipe.”
“I didn’t really see it, though.”
“Mol, you were right there. How couldn’t you have seen it?”
Molly shrugs. “I’m not saying you didn’t, I’m just saying I didn’t see it.”
“Well, that settles it,” the Rev says. “Bobby’s making it all up.”
“Oh, shut up.” I kick him again, then stand up. “I’m not making this shit up. I don’t know why I would.”
The Rev laughs. “I’m just messing around, mate. Calm down.”
I ignore him and look down at Jed. “Well, what are you thinking then? What’s the plan?”
“Well, the only way y’all are gonna get out of here alive is by the tunnels. Just too risky travelin’ the streets. Indigo has eyes everywhere.”
“And that’s safe?” I ask. “The tunnels, I mean. We can leave the city that way?”
“Of course,” Jed says. “That’s how the Refragatio gets around without getting caught.”
I stop breathing for a moment, then clear my throat. “The Refragatio?”
Jed doesn’t need to explain who they are. I step away from everybody, ignoring their comments. I know the Refragatio. I hadn’t remembered them until Jed brought them up, but now? Yeah. I know the Refragatio about as good as I know oxygen.
Fuck. How could I have ever forgotten?
(memoria v)
in a cage, trapped like a rat. i’ve been caught. the bastards finally got me.
the cage is not small by any stretch. it could easily hold a dozen people. it resides in the center of a large, expansive room occupied by at least three hundred patrons. they sit and stand around the cage, drinking liquor and watching me. only they’re not watching me, they’re watching the two other men standing in the cage. the two shirtless, shoeless men beating the shit out of each other.
the crowd cheers for the two men to tear each other to pieces. they stand on either side of me, driving their fists through my ghost body and into each other’s faces. for a moment i’m convinced one of the men fighting is me #2, but after a second glance, neither one seems all too familiar.
i step out of their way so they can continue the fight, even though they seem perfectly content brawling with me between them. one of the men locks the other in a headlock and drops him to the floor. the crowd yells, wild with excitement.
blood is their entertainment. violence is their orgasm. death is their paradise.
i see me #2 sitting outside the cage at a table by himself, drinking a beer. he watches the fight without really watching. his eyes stare at the cage but his mind is elsewhere, lost someplace dark and disturbing.
i move away from the brawling duo and press myself against the cage bars. i barely have to use any force to squeeze through metal and plop out the other side. me #2 shows no sign of disturbance as i land directly on his table and fall through it, my head landing softly on his crotch. w
hen i eventually crawl out from under the table and stand up, me #2 has finished his drink and is just sitting there, looking at the empty bottle. the crowd cheers as more blood sheds in the cage and me #2 doesn’t even flinch.
what are you thinking?
where in time are we now?
i look around the room and i realize this is a casino, only not just any casino, but THE casino. the casino where hell parties and heaven disintegrates.
indigo’s casino.
what the fuck are we doing here?
i try to leave, but of course i can’t. now that i’m by me #2, i’m stuck here, like a fly in a spider’s web. my legs are useless until he makes the first move. but he doesn’t look like he’s planning on moving anytime soon. he’s too preoccupied with the empty bottle, almost like he’s trying to conjure more booze with his mind. and, fuck, maybe he can. if i can move objects and make heads explode, then maybe i can create liquor, too.
you drunk bastard. you pathetic lush. do something. your whole life is about to fall apart. get the fuck out of here, man. find molly and ezzy and hug them and pack your shit and get the hell out of this miserable city before it eats you alive.
but he isn’t listening. i’m not really here. maybe i’m not even at jed’s cabin. maybe i’m dead and i’m just living a mirage. soon reality’s gonna vaporize and there will be nothing but beautiful darkness.
but darkness isn’t so beautiful when i can be holding my daughter instead. so, darkness can go fuck itself.
a man in a blue uniform approaches us. he clears his throat and taps me #2 on the shoulder. me #2 spins around, drunk and startled.
‘what?’ me #2 says, making a fist.
the man laughs at me #2’s limp fists and says, ‘lamb’s called for you. he needs your help.’
‘fuck lamb.’
‘i’d rather not,’ the man says. ‘anyway, him and the rest of ‘em are down in the boiler room.’
‘what the hell are they doing there?’
‘having a circle jerk,’ he says. ‘how the hell would i know? he radioed me and said to bring your ass down there—so, get your ass down there.’
‘bite me.’
‘another time.’
the man walks away, leaving us alone at the table. me #2 sits a moment, staring at the empty bottle a little longer, than sighs.
‘shit.’
he rises and stumbles through the crowd of gamblers. his magnetic hook latches onto my chest and drags me along. i am pulled through countless drunken, sweaty bodies and none of them even shiver at my presence.
what presence?
we go through a door next to the bar and descend down multiple sets of staircases. i’m reminded of my encounter with lamb back at the risqué cabaret. his office had also been behind the bar, through an ominous steel door. only here, at the casino, he seems to prefer the basement.
the boiler room.
a man screams behind the room’s door. me #2 hesitates a moment, listening. someone’s in agony. someone’s pleading for a savior.
something tells me he isn’t going to get one.
we walk through the door and find lamb and a couple of others circling a man lying on the ground, crying. tears and mucus and blood drips down his face and both present and past me look away, unable to process the grisly scene without wincing.
when we finally look back, lamb’s smiling. he holds out his arms and says, ‘well, it’s about time.’
‘sorry,’ me #2 says. ‘i was caught up in something.’
‘and so—as you can see—am i.’
lamb kicks the man on the ground in the face and laughs at the repulsive sound he makes. the rest of the gang stares at the bloodbath, awaiting their turn.
‘who’s this?’ me #2 asks.
‘this?’ lamb points at the man. ‘this is a dead man. bobby, don’t you know you’re lookin’ at a bona fide corpse right now?’
‘what’d he do?’
lamb snorts and looks at his friends, who are also laughing like me #2’s just told the funniest goddamn joke. ‘i dunno,’ lamb says, ‘what did he do, kenny?’
the fattest one of the group spits on the man on the ground and says, ‘this fool tried to straight up sabotage our whole motherfuckin’ organization, yo.’
lamb bends down and grabs the man by the hair, yanking his head up to face me #2. ‘we caught this little rodent trying to plant a fucking land mine under one of the craps tables. a land mine. can you fucking believe that, bobby?’
‘refragatio,’ me #2 whispers.
lamb nods. ‘who else?’
‘jesus christ,’ me #2 says, stepping forward. ‘you could have killed so many people. what the hell is wrong with you?’
the man spits out a glob of blood and says, ‘i would have been doing them a favor. a thousand deaths is a fair price to pay in exchange for indigo’s cocksucking head.’
a woman with bright, neon green hair leaps at him and bashes his nose open with a steel pipe.
‘INDIGO IS A GOD, YOU FILTHY PEASANT!’ the woman screams, hitting him over and over again. ‘YOU ARE A LITTLE FLECK OF SHIT COMPARED TO INDIGO’S GREATNESS. YOU FUCK. YOU STUPID FUCK. YOU ARE GOING TO DIE DOWN HERE, YOU’RE GOING TO FUCKING DIE, DON’T YOU REALIZE THAT?’
‘ENOUGH!’ lamb shouts, pulling her off him.
‘let me finish him,’ she pleads. ‘let me feel the inside of his skull.’
‘with a pipe?’ lamb asks. ‘nah, baby, that shit’s too quick. don’t you want to have a little fun?’
she pauses, staring at the man on the ground gagging on his own blood. ‘yeah,’ she says. ‘i could use some fun right now.’
‘why am i here?’ me #2 asks. he looks pale and sick, like he’s going to vomit.
‘yeah,’ kenny says, ‘why the hell did you want him down here, anyway?’
lamb walks to us and puts an arm around me #2’s shoulder. ‘because, bobby here is still new. he hasn’t exactly been properly introduced to our world. don’t you all think it’s about time we gave him that introduction?’
‘what are you talking about?’ me #2 says, shaking lamb’s arm off him. ‘i’ve been through the initiations. i’ve done what i was told.’
‘yeah, but i ain’t never seen you waste nobody before,’ lamb says, grinning.
‘i don’t need to waste anybody.’
‘listen here, bobby-o,’ lamb says. he walks toward the hostage on the ground and squats, staring at him. ‘this world, this is a world of death. and until you embrace that death—boy, you ain’t even livin’.’
‘i don’t want to kill him,’ me #2 says. ‘that isn’t my fuckin’ job, lamb.’
lamb stands up and spins toward us, his dreadlocks flinging in the air like wild snakes. ‘your job is to obey the law of indigo, and this is what indigo wants. you wanna quit the family—already? bitch, you just started.’
me #2 stares at the bleeding hostage, silent. surely he’s not going to do it. please don’t fucking do it.
‘i don’t even have a gun on me,’ me #2 finally says, and lamb’s smile widens.
‘nah, man,’ he says, ‘if i’m not gonna let sonia use her pipe, why the hell would i allow a gun? hells nah, fuck that. we want to really make this little bitch squeal.’
me #2 doesn’t answer, just looks down at the ground, avoiding eye contact.
everybody fades and becomes blurry for a moment, until me #2 lifts his head back up. lamb’s standing in front of us, holding a large pot of water.
the water’s boiling, steaming.
‘what do you want me to do with that?’
lamb shrugs, and a few drops of the water fall to the floor. it bubbles against the concrete. ‘i don’t know,’ he says, ‘i was just thinkin’ our guest was lookin’ a little thirsty, don’t you think?’
‘don’t you think that’s a bit much?’ me #2 asks.
‘it’s nowhere near enough,’ lamb says. ‘but it’ll do. plus, i’ve always wanted to see what would happen to someone if they drank a pot
of boiling water. i bet it’s gonna be pretty fuckin’ cool.’
‘hell yeah, now you’re talkin’,’ the woman says, slapping her pipe against her palm.
‘jesus,’ me #2 whispers, taking the pot in his hands. he winces at the heat and fumbles to hold onto the handles. lamb steps away from us and everybody watches, licking their lips and waiting for the show to start.
the man on the ground trembles and whimpers at the sight of the pot and he realizes what’s about to happen, and him and me both are praying to god it isn’t actually going to.
‘come on,’ i say, staring at my past self. ‘you can’t fucking do this. this is crazy. you can’t do this. if you can do this, then i can do this, and i sure as fuck don’t want to be able to do this.’
but me #2 ignores me and steps forward, staring at the man on the ground. the squirming refragatio.
‘this is cruel,’ me #2 finally says. ‘i’m sorry, but i can’t.’
the man on the ground reaches a shaking hand upward, blood pouring down his face. ‘please,’ he says, ‘please, think of oasis, for the love of god, think of oasis.’
‘what the fuck is he saying?’ lamb asks.
me #2 doesn’t hesitate. he shoves the pot of boiling water forward and pours it over the refragatio’s face. the scream that follows is horrible. me #2 steps back, gasping at the man’s face bubbling and oozing in front of him.
‘oh my god,’ me #2 says, staring, unable to look away.
what the fuck have we done?
lamb laughs. ‘holy shit, look at that bitch’s face. he’s gonna explode!’
i try to look away, but my head’s stuck in place, eyes frozen on the refragatio’s bubbling flesh. me #2 still holds the pot of water, now barely half full. ‘i’m sorry,’ he whispers. ‘i’m so sorry.’
the man on the ground is reaches out again, and when he talks, it’s barely audible. ‘oh sis...oh sis...’
oasis.
(‘oasis. save oasis.’)
‘i’m sorry,’ me #2 says again, and steps forward. he leans down and tilts the pot to the side, spilling the rest of the water into the refragatio’s screaming mouth.
The Mind is a Razorblade Page 16