The Antarcticans

by Suriano, James

  “How?” Gavin asked, pointing at the box.

  “It’s an illusion. Vapor technology that allows us to project onto stable molecules in the air. Many of our leaders are uncomfortable if they don’t have a presence. Most are satisfied with this format. We’ve worked very hard to reduce the need to travel here. Someone didn’t turn that projector off.”

  On one of the walls, a painting of the Kenyan savanna parted to reveal a side room. Lucifer stepped inside, turned a light on, then moved around; Gavin lost sight of him when the painting closed. The amphitheater went dark for a few seconds, which was when Gavin realized the large doors they had entered through had shut behind them. His eyes shut instinctively when a bright flash lit up the room. When he opened them, the room had transformed. The walls were gone, and he was looking out over the Mediterranean Sea. He recognized the coast from his vacations to Italy and the south of France. The seating had changed and was now the deep-blue color of the water. The stage, which had transformed into a jagged rock outcropping, was rising up to eye level with the top row of seating. Lucifer emerged from the control room.

  “What do you think?”

  “Stunning,” Gavin said, wide-eyed.

  “We can program just about any destination in the world. We even have a Martian landscape built from the pictures taken by NASA’s rovers. Our research tells us that people are most comfortable in their home settings and will make the best decisions for themselves and their people when they’re in an area that feels safe. So we alter the landscape based on what we want to accomplish at each conference.” Lucifer looked around quickly. “Anything else in here you’d like to see?”

  “Who comes here?” Gavin asked.

  “Anyone who’s anyone…or at least that’s what the people who come here like to think.” Lucifer smiled.

  “Then why am I here?”

  “Are you complaining about being here? The last time I checked, you came searching for me.”

  Gavin shook his head. “None of this makes sense.”

  “It will…Just hold up your end of the deal by bringing your lovely wife and Joshua to the ship.”

  “Noila was never part of this,” Gavin shot back.

  “I thought you said the whole family followed your decisions. Noila is still your wife, yes?”

  Gavin’s brows knitted. “Why’s it important to have her here?”

  “Because everyone has value.” Lucifer gestured toward the doors. “We should get going.”

  Gavin followed him back into the lift and headed to the top of the ship. The pools, trees, cabanas, and landscaped gardens could make anyone forget they were standing on tons of steel cutting through the great oceans. Attendants were in abundance, taking orders for anything a guest might need. A small tropical lizard darted in front of Gavin.

  “I wanted to create a six-star-resort feel for my guests. I imagined a floating Peninsula Hotel. Their lives are often stressful, and my ambition is to swathe them in comfort so they can make the best decisions.” Lucifer had returned to his grandiose affectation.

  Gavin nodded as he walked past a row of chaise lounges. A hefty woman in her late fifties speaking precise German into her headset, while reviewing a packet of papers, was lying out, enjoying the sun and the South Atlantic Ocean.

  “Is that…?” Gavin asked.

  “The chancellor of Germany? Yes. One of our regulars. She’s a key driver of our policy in Europe. We’re wondering how long the people of Germany and Europe, though, will stand behind her. Anyone in office, no matter how effective, becomes the object of blame for long-term problems cropping up in the present. And over there, you see that woman with all those children around her?” Lucifer continued. “She’s a famous actress you might recognize. Easy to spot with those distinctive tattoos. Her husband rarely accompanies her. I think their opposite work schedules inconveniently bring them to different parts of the world. Listen, Gavin, I know you have responsibilities at home, but would you like to spend the night here? We can arrange for you to travel back tomorrow at whatever time is convenient for you. There’s always a helicopter here. I’d like you to mingle with more of our guests. We have a religious historian on board. Ibantha Sagona, the Vatican’s head archivist.”

  Gavin thought about it for a moment; he had come this far, and the extra time might buy him more insight into how things worked around here.

  “Okay. Let me call my wife and let her know I won’t be home this evening.”

  “Perfect. Leo will show you to your quarters,” Lucifer said. The same attendant who was on the flight to the ship appeared from behind one of the cabanas. He had a drink tray in his hand, which he set down, and nodded to Gavin.

  “Whenever you’re ready, sir.” Leo stood tall as he waited.

  The chop of the ocean picked up, and the ship shifted slightly, causing Gavin to reposition himself. He looked at the attendant’s clothes. He had changed from his casual polo and shorts into a tuxedo.

  “Big party tonight?” Gavin joked with him.

  “No, sir. This is required dress on the Dragon.”

  “The Dragon?” Gavin asked, stepping back from him.

  “Yes, the name of the ship, sir.” He held his hands behind his back as he waited for Gavin to make the next move. “It’s a play on words on believe. The boss thought it had a progressive ring to it—” He stopped abruptly.

  “Leo is full of facts, isn’t he? I’m sure Pastor Pennings isn’t interested in so much detail.” Lucifer glanced at something over Gavin’s shoulder.

  Gavin started to turn around, and then he heard the rhythmic thumping of helicopter blades slicing through the air. He wondered which celebrity or world leader was touching down.

  “NATO’s supreme allied commander,” Lucifer said.

  “What?” Gavin looked over at him, wondering whether Lucifer had intended for him to hear that.

  “He’s here to discuss the military posturing by some of the Middle Eastern powers. Do you have any interest in meeting him?”

  Gavin shook his head. He couldn’t get used to the commonplaceness that some of the most powerful people were regarded with here. The magnification of life on the Dragon felt overwhelming. When Marcel Pagel, one of his more irregular parishioners, had initially tipped him off that Lucifer might be able to help him with Joshua’s plight, he hadn’t mentioned any of this. Perhaps he didn’t know, or maybe the mere mention of it was too dangerous.

  Lucifer pulled his white suit jacket down and grasped Gavin’s hand. He was slowly moving in the direction of the flight deck and seemed to ignore what Gavin was asking.

  “Leo will take care of you.” He didn’t look at him, as he was focused on the helicopter. “I need to attend to this personally.”

  “Is there a chapel on board?” Gavin asked.

  “A chapel?” Lucifer was pointing to the helicopter pilot.

  “Yes, a chapel.”

  He ignored the question. “Leo,” he said, then snapped his fingers and quickly walked behind the thick rows of trees and succulents that divided the two areas. Gavin saw his blond hair bob up and down as he lengthened his stride toward the visitor.

  Making tight eye contact with Gavin, Leo straightened his back and pulled down his tuxedo jacket. “We should get to your fitting. You’re in need of different clothes for tomorrow’s events.”

  Leo led them through the corridors to a small gallery. The floors changed from white marble to a rich brown-and-green travertine. Glass rose up from the floors, framing storefronts and displays. The ceiling was flickering blue with points of stars scattered and twinkling within it. They stepped through one of the storefronts into a small shop. An elderly tailor was on his knees, measuring the dress length of a slender Asian woman with a long shiny ponytail extending beyond her waist. His arthritic hands were defying their disease, dexterously pinning and pulling the periwinkle silk into bunches, working quickly over the flowing material.

  “I’ll be right with you, Leo,” he mumbled through the pins
he held in his mouth.

  The woman glanced at them then went back to perusing her computer tablet.

  “Rico is usually booked days in advance. I really should have called him, but your visit was unexpected,” Leo said.

  The phone in the shop beeped, and an attendant pushed a small curtain aside and picked up the receiver. Gavin couldn’t hear what she said, but she gestured for him to come over and take the phone from her.

  Who could possibly know where I am right now? Gavin thought.

  Margie

  Joshua traced the lines of the Formica countertop in their kitchen with his pencil. The quadratic equation on the page in front of him wasn’t budging until Margie popped into his ear.

  “I know you aren’t good at math,” she said in her thick Southern drawl.

  Joshua shrugged. “Yeah, so? I just don’t try. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

  “Why don’t you do somethin’ about it?” she asked.

  “Like what?”

  Joshua could no longer see the lines on the countertop; it was just one smooth surface, and it had started buzzing. He imagined a giant swarm of bees a few hundred feet from where he sat, around the oak tree he used to climb as a kid.

  “I’ll make you better. Don’t listen to her.” This was the deep, gravelly voice that always preceded bad things.

  Joshua took his pencil and pushed it hard into his index finger, hoping the pain would scare the voices away.

  Belly-rolling laughter filled his head. “Wha, wha, hahahahaha. You thought…” The gravel crunched up, and the voice started choking before he caught his breath. “You thought a little graphite in your tiny finger was going to hurt? Ah, c’mon, kid. You can do better than that.”

  The buzzing grew louder and circled Joshua’s head. He reached up and swatted the air. Everything was turning smooth: the walls were Matisse paintings glossed over; the texture of the tile beneath his chair disappeared into a brown iced-over surface. His fingertips lost sensation.

  “Stop it!” he yelled.

  “It isn’t nice to hound him like this. He’s a good boy,” Margie told the other voice. “Joshy’s just doin’ what those helpful doctors tell him to do. I listen to them too, ya know.”

  “No, he’s a little fuck nut who thinks he’s gonna scare me.” The buzzing sound in Joshua’s head turned into the flapping of wings.

  The demon had done this before; Joshua knew what was coming next. Deep-black creatures, with no eyes, just mouths and vicious teeth attached to wings, swooped down and lashed at this neck and back. Joshua yelped from the pain. One of them tore off the top pieces of his flesh, and then a second creature, with its darkened face and obsidian eyes, came in for more. When the holes appearing over his body were wide enough, the menaces dive-bombed headfirst into the bleeding wounds and hooked their jaws into the nubs of tendons and ligaments, piercing veins and fresh channels. Then they spun, boring deeper and deeper inside him, rolling the tendrils from his body like thread from a spindle, ripping from the inside every fiber that held him together. Joshua’s mind and body went numb with pain; he didn’t know he was standing on the kitchen floor, rapidly whirling. Over and over, the creatures tore farther inside him, penetrating his stomach, his bowels, moving toward his brain.

  “Oh, dear. How are you doin’, Joshy? You hangin’ in there?” he heard Margie say. She was flickering to life in front of him: head piled high with blond hair, her plump lips painted with pink lipstick, a turquoise debutante gown on. Her hands were clasped, her head cocked to the side. She couldn’t have been more than thirty. When she made eye contact with him, her hand flew up to her mouth.

  “Oh, my Gawd. Darlin’, you can see me, can’t you?”

  Joshua couldn’t answer. One of the creatures was excavating his vocal chords. He reached down and grabbed the slick, slimy tail and yanked it. He felt the slight tug on his throat, and the wriggling tail separated from the creature’s body and came off in his hand.

  “Hot damn. They’re slimy little bastards, aren’t they?” the gravelly voice rumbled.

  “I can’t…” Tears gushed from Joshua’s eyes.

  “You can’t what?” Laughter followed.

  “No more,” Joshua gurgled through what was left of his esophagus.

  “Well, I hear the little bastards hate Clorox. Maybe you should douse ’em with the stuff. Give ’em hell.”

  Joshua fell to the floor and dragged himself along with the one arm not infested with the creatures. Every second of flesh spinning off his body and splattering the cold white edges of the kitchen was an eternity of pain. He yanked the cabinet door open and pushed around inside until he saw the bleach his mother had used so many times to clean the floors and bathrooms.

  With one hand, he futilely fumbled with the cap.

  “Joshy…” Margie’s dress was poofed out around her on the floor. Her pink nails, which matched her lipstick and were slightly chipped and faded, rested on the blue cap. “That’s not a good idea.”

  The revolutions of the creatures accelerated as they worked their way into his chest. Joshua knew if they reached his heart or brain, he’d be gone. He pushed Margie’s hand aside and twisted off the cap. He looked up at her glitter-coated eyes and running mascara. “Pray for me, Margie.”

  “Okay, but you’re gonna regret this.” She took the blue cap from him and positioned the bottle so the handle was available for his hand to slip through. “Oh, well…bottoms up.” She held her hands up in surrender.

  Joshua put the bottle to his mouth, inhaled the strong fumes, and drank. The searing liquid snaked through his throat and into his stomach. The pain, however, was comforting, because he knew it would end the suffering. He felt the burrowing creatures lose their grip and shriek before falling dead on the floor around him. Oh, it felt so good as they died one by one.

  “You showed them.” The gravel turned to rasp and began to fade.

  “No, motherfucker, I showed you,” Joshua choked out through his bloody throat.

  More laughter from the gravelly voice and then unconsciousness.

  …

  The fluorescent lights were pushing into every crevice of the hospital room. Joshua was hooked up to an array of wires and monitors, his wrists snugly tied to the bed railings.

  “Josh?” Noila looked down into her son’s closed eyes, her hand on his forehead.

  Warm, stale air came from his mouth and then a hard swallow.

  “Don’t talk,” she said, her eyes welling up. “You have burns.”

  Glitterati

  “Hello?” Gavin pressed the phone to his ear after taking it from the sales attendant.

  “Honey?” Noila’s voice was shaking. “Who was that?”

  “Just one of the salesgirls. What’s wrong?”

  “But I called your cell.”

  “Dunno, must have been routed to where I was somehow. I’m in a tailor shop, on the ship I told you I was going on.”

  “Joshua is…” She started to cry.

  “What? Joshua is what?” Gavin asked clearly but not loudly, his heart rate increasing.

  “He…he’s tried again. Come home.” She was sobbing now.

  “Is he okay? Where is he? I…” He paused. “It’s not that easy for me to get home. I can explain everything when I get back. I’ll be there as fast as I can, but it might not be until tomorrow. I’m not sure they have a way for me to get back right away.”

  “We’re at the hospital. He’s in surgery.” She told him about the Clorox and mumbled a string of descriptions.

  “He drank bleach?”

  “Mm-hmm,” she whimpered.

  Gavin knew he had to leave to be with her and Joshua. His wife had become increasingly unstable as the episodes with their son increased in frequency and intensity. Noila had grown up in a family with a long line of God’s men: her father, her grandfather, and the most significant, her great-grandfather, who had laid the seeds to the great familial commission one hundred years ago. Although she never had met him, his
memory was weaved through every nook of her childhood home. Her expectations of life had been neat and predictable. If she prayed and did the right things, God would reward her. In the last year, she had begun to question why she was being punished and drew further and further into herself, looking for a dark core that held the answer to her torment.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Gavin whispered into the phone, not wanting Leo to hear him. He handed the phone back to the clerk and nodded, thanking her. He turned back to Leo, who was staring blankly as the tailor inserted his last pin into the embroidered red flower at the bottom of the silk dress.

  “Is there any way I can talk to Lucifer?” Gavin asked Leo.

  “He’s very busy right now. You’ll see him tonight.”

  “A few things have changed. I need to get back to Fort Lauderdale.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible tonight,” Leo told him. “The transport helicopters are all on the mainland and will be heading toward us in the next couple of hours to ferry the participants of tonight’s meeting. Whatever it is will have to wait.”

  Gavin let out a sigh and looked around the shop. The woman in the dress had retreated to a fitting room. The tailor and the clerk were looking expectantly at him, their brows raised.

  “Please, Mr. Gavin,” Leo said. “We made a special accommodation for you to be fitted. I would appreciate it if you would fulfill the appointment.” He gestured toward the small leather-covered riser for Gavin to stand on during the fitting.

  Gavin stepped onto the riser and finished the appointment. He felt guilty about not being completely honest with Noila; she deserved better.

  An hour later, he was sitting at the desk in his quarters, tapping the black Mont Blanc pen with the gold dragon and ruby eyes against the desktop, wondering what he was going to tell Noila when he picked up the phone and called her. He leaned back in the black suede chair and spun, taking in the richly wallpapered walls covered in dark-colored paintings.

  He listened to the phone ring on the other end, and then Noila picked up.