by Robert Essig
“Did you know them?” asked Austin.
The man nodded. Perhaps Austin had been too pretentious.
“I’m their guitar tech. I’ve toured with them from the beginning. They were like brothers to me.”
Austin nodded. This was getting him nowhere fast. “I’m sorry for your loss. It’s a tragedy.”
“I don’t know what they were doing out here. We just played a show in Hollywood last night, and we don’t have to be in Frisco until tomorrow. I thought they were staying in the hotel, and then I wake up and . . . ”
Austin patted the man on the back. It was about all he could think to do for him. Austin was more interested in seeing the bodies. Not from a standpoint of fascination, but to see if they resembled the one he saw in San Diego, but it was a difficult prospect. Not only were there slews of media types and police, but others like the mourning guitar tech, others that had driven up from Hollywood, pilgrims there to be a part of the sudden and mysterious death of their favorite band. And more cars were lining up along the road.
Austin overheard a cop say: “Alright, that’s it, we need to get this scene under control. Set up a road block and get these people out of here.”
If only Austin had gotten there earlier, maybe he could have had a chance at even a glimpse. That’s all he would need, just a glimpse, just enough to assure him that he was on the right track, and then what . . . ?
Things became frantic and scattered. A cop grabbed a bullhorn and began telling the onlookers that there was nothing to see and that they had to evacuate the premises or risk being arrested for interfering with a criminal investigation. Some folks walked away without another word, but the longhairs shouted back with proclamations that they should be able to see the body. Austin laughed at the proposal of mob rule, because he could see that that may very well happen. These road dogs and hangers-on were angry, many of them probably hung over, strung out, and half stoned. They weren’t going to be deterred from paying their last respects. With emotions running high amongst disheveled men who couldn’t properly express themselves, things were nearing a fever pitch.
“No!” screamed one man. “We want to see them! We have to see the bodies!”
From the bullhorn: “You need to evacuate the premises. Failure to do so will result in arrest and charges will be pressed.”
“Press this, motherfucker!” yelled another man who looked as if he hadn’t slept at all last night. His hair was greasy and his face long and drawn. His eyes were filled with blood and probably a good dose of general hatred for anyone in a uniform.
“We want to know what happened!” yelled another.
The tension was getting thick. Enough so to cause Austin to fish his way to the back of the crowd. They looked like they were waiting to get into a rock concert and were told the show had been cancelled, and in a manner of speaking, that was exactly what was going on. The show had been cancelled forever.
“Fuck this shit, man!” another longhair said, followed by a baldheaded guy with a six-inch black beard who growled, “Yeah, we can take ‘em! Let’s get in there!”
When the shit hit the fan it didn’t splat, it screamed with rebel yells and gunfire and Austin couldn’t believe his eyes. The tattooed, grizzly-faced heavy metal fans blitzed the police line. Through a cascade of bullets, some of them fell to the ground wounded and others turned and ran as the gravity of their idiot maneuver sunk in.
Austin was caught in the middle of the spectacle. Bullets scared the hell out of him, and with a crowd like this one, anyone without a uniform was a target. He wasn’t an idiot, but he wanted to get into the cabin. Bullets were lethal, but so was Baz.
The gunfire ceased for a moment, and by the looks of it there was a general bar fight attitude at the front of the cabin. It seemed as if the crowd had forgotten about the desire to say their final goodbyes to Death Fraud and found that brawling with the police gave them far greater satisfaction.
From the open doorway to the cabin, Austin could see the crime scene investigators and detectives. Some of them had produced guns and held them pointed at the door in case the raucous crowd decided to come in.
Austin didn’t need to enter the cabin. He needed to see the bodies, even just one of them. He had to.
There is actually something quite shocking about a serious brawl, in that someone who has absolutely nothing invested in the premise of the fight—or doesn’t have the fight-lust that causes their eyes to roll into the back of their head and punch and kick for the hell of it—can watch their step, refuse eye contact, and walk right around the brawl without being pulled in. It wasn’t the first time Austin had done this. In a shit-hole juke joint in Georgia ten or fifteen years ago someone was hit in the head with a beer bottle, and that act turned the place upside down in a roar of broken glass, bloody noses, and black eyes. Austin watched, he even laughed a few times at the general excitement that the men shared as they beat the shit out of one another. Austin had walked out of that place without so much as a scratch, as he now walked around the bizarre beat-down the cops were receiving(they must have felt guilty about those initial shots fired!). He decided to peer through a window. The detectives on the inside weren’t looking at the windows. They were focused on the front door, where the greatest potential for trouble was from the angry crowd.
At the window, Austin was careful about being seen. He kept returning his gaze to the fight to make sure the metal heads didn’t go after him in that blackout beat-em-up frenzy that seemed to have taken them over. He looked in the window, cupping his hands over his eyes to reduce the glare, and what he saw was nothing short of a micro-holocaust. At first he didn’t see what he was looking for, nor was he sure what seeing those little parasites would do to help him. At least he would know that he was on the right track. He turned back to the crowd when a gunshot startled him. One of the cops had shot his firearm, but was punched in the face hard enough to knock him out. It was a hell of a scene, but there was nothing Austin could do about it, and soon enough sirens would wail as backup arrived, at which point he would be caught up in the wave of arrests, and he didn’t want that.
He looked into the window again and noticed that one of the detectives had seen him, but the man wasn’t all too moved by his peeping (probably more frightened that he was an angry fan of the band looking for entrance). This time Austin saw something that he was sure no one else had seen. There was movement on one of the bodies, something he was somewhat familiar with. A parasite emerged from the ectoplasm it fed on, and it looked at Austin. Its tiny face moved queerly like a dog sniffing the air for a scent that was beneath human detection.
There was no real way for Austin to know if it was the same parasite that hitched a ride with him from San Diego, but he would have bet the house on it. The little beast smelled him; remembered him.
But what did it mean?
Sirens wailed in the distance, bouncing off the trees and mountains. It was time for Austin to make tracks or risk being lumped into a paddy wagon with the mongrels that surrounded him. Just one night in jail would have epic consequences.
He had the urge to rush the house and grab the parasite in hopes that it could lead the way to Dagana, and he was sure it could, but that was at too great a risk. He turned and made his way through the fighting hooligans and battered police and left.
He was headed north. It only made sense that Dagana was traveling in that direction.
In his rearview mirror, he could faintly see the blue and red lights far off. He was confident that he’d made it out before the risk of being arrested became a reality. Austin had traveled the world for many a year and he had to admit to himself that what just transpired was a first, one of many firsts he’d been experiencing in the past few days.
As he drove down the lonesome road, he couldn’t help but feel as if he was being watched. A part of him feared that he would escape into a blended reality again, but he was confident that Baz would be satisfied with his progress. In fact, the feeling of being watch
ed probably was Baz.
There were other troubles wearing on Austin’s mind. The nomadic life he had always lived had turned in on itself. He walked a line between helping people and getting himself into trouble had it had become so blurred that he found himself doubting everything. There was a dead woman in his hotel room! How was he going to explain that? It was a private room and there were no excuses, nothing that would remove himself from the scene of the murder! And there was Baz, something otherworldly that was full of grit and threats and Austin wondered if he would even make it to his in evitable murder trial alive. He felt desperate before, several times (particularly in foreign countries), but that was the life of a nomad, particularly one with a taste for alcohol.
And damn he could use a drink right now.
Austin drove. He eyed the forests and hills looking for anything out of the usual, but saw nothing that piqued his interest. The feeling of someone watching him intensified. As much as he tried to attribute it to Baz’s watchful eyes, it felt eerie (as if Baz was aerie enough!). It was almost as if he brought something back with him from the In Between. Not something physical, but something along the lines of a sixth sense.
Austin felt a small itch, perhaps a tickle, on his right ear. He used his hand to scratch it and felt something shift on his shoulder. The something on his shoulder shrank from his touch and he felt a tiny clenching on his shoulder. Austin looked into the rearview mirror and his eyes widened when he realized that the parasite was perched there like a pirate’s parrot. It appeared to be grinning. Or hungry?
Yet again Austin was driving when something strange and absurd happened, only this time he knew one thing right off the bat. The parasite could not embed itself within his neck again. He wasn’t about to deal with that, so he decided to grab the little beast and was surprised at how it seemingly allowed his intrusion.
One eye on the road, one on the parasite, Austin continued his drive no longer looking for something conspicuous. It appeared that what he was looking for had come to him.
He smiled. “You’re going to help me find Dagana, aren’t you?” asked Austin, though he assumed that the thing in his clenched fist couldn’t understand him. It just grinned and licked its chops with a snaky forked tongue.
“I knew you could do it,” said Baz, who was suddenly seated in the passenger seat. His trench coat was dirty and sticking to his body in places from blood or pus or something. His hat was pulled low shadowing his gruesome face, however his eyes glowed silvery illuminating the sharper features of his ugly mug.
Baz’s voice startled Austin. His mind flashed to the last time Baz was in his car. He feared that they were going to slip into the In Between again. He had enough of a disadvantage in Baz’s presence, and even more so in such a twisted foreign land.
“I knew putting a little fire under your ass would help you get your shit together. Now, gimme that little fucker there. That little bastard will act like a compass and lead us to Dagana.”
There was something about the parasite that was personal to Austin, as if it was a part of him due to the time it spent burrowed in his neck, but he was no fool and wasn’t about to disagree or argue with Mr. Demon Freak. His nanny didn’t raise a fool.
“What about Audrey?” asked Austin.
“What about her?”
“If this parasite will lead you to Dagana, then I want Audrey back.”
“Do you really think you’re in a position to make deals? I’ll give you the answer: no, you’re not.”
“But isn’t that the deal? I find Dagana, you get Audrey out of that place you put her.”
“Maybe. But we haven’t found Dagana yet, have we? Gimme that parasite of hers and don’t fuck with me if you want to see Audrey sane much less alive. You don’t have the cards, friend. Remember that. The deck is loaded against you. Remember that, too.”
Before handing over the fiendish parasite, Austin stifled a sigh for fear that it would send the wrong signal. It clawed and screamed tiny little high-pitched whines as it was handed over. Baz must have given it a squeeze because the little micro-demon screamed something terrible and agonizing, and then Baz said something in a language that sounded like German in reverse.
After communicating with the parasite, Baz said, “Keep going this way. We’re close.”
Austin hit the gas, sweat beading his brow and saturating the armpits of his t-shirt. Baz made him nervous as hell. He’d tried to conjure a deal if for nothing else than to get Audrey and be done with this shit, but the crazy bastard had something else up his sleeve, which was what Austin had been afraid of the whole time. The kicker was that Audrey was in another realm of life. Even now with a demon sitting in the passenger seat squeezing the life out of a little parasitic creature, it was hard to believe any of it. He didn’t feel as if he would wake from a crazy dream or anything like that, it was just a lot to digest, and every time he began to accept the current circumstances of his life, he was thrown another gut-punch.
There was no one on the road and nothing but pine trees as far as the eyes could see. Austin had to get a better grip on the situation. He glanced at Baz nervously and then asked him, “How does that thing show you which way to go?”
Baz chuckled something guttural and slimy. “You have to squeeze the little bastard, like this.” Baz gave the parasite a good squeeze eliciting a high-pitched squeal like steam escaping a teapot. “His muscles twitch and move, gravitating toward its keeper, Dagana. Here,” Baz thrust his clenched fist to Austin. “Give it a shot.”
Austin was apprehensive about grabbing the parasite. Not that he hadn’t been holding on to the little thing a moment ago, there was just something off-putting about Baz’s offering. The man (if that’s what Baz could be classified as) was danger in a trench coat.
“Take it,” said Baz. “It won’t hurt you.”
Austin grabbed the parasite gently. It was in his nature to do so. He wasn’t rough with pets, children, or anyone for that matter. Not unless someone was out of line and deserved it, of course. He’d handed out his share of ass whoopings in the past when to do so helped someone out or seemed just. Austin wasn’t an angry or violent man, so squeezing something so tiny and seemingly defenseless was, to him, wrong on so many levels, even if it was an ugly demonic parasite that feasted on dead bodies.
“Go ahead,” said Baz, “give him a good squeeze and you’ll se what I’m talking about. In fact, you can be the navigator.”
The parasite was reminiscent of the pictures Austin had seen of mythical imps (well, he’d always thought they were mere myths). It smiled at him and flicked its forked tongue.
“Don’t fuck around,” said Baz, his tone decidedly dry and menacing. “Those little bastards are quick, and it would like nothing more than to feed on the rendering of your soul. They’re soul suckers, you know. Now give him a healthy squeeze so we can be sure we’re on the right track. You gotta let that thing know who’s boss.”
Without further hesitation, Austin did as was asked of him. There was no reason to stall any longer and risk placing Audrey or himself in greater jeopardy; no reason to give a damn about the parasite anyhow.
He gripped the parasite tight and firm, slowly crushing the little body within the vice of his fingers. Its face changed from a grin to a frown to an eye-bugging look of horror as if Austin would pop its head off. Beneath his clenched fingers, he could feel the musculature of the little creature beginning to undulate. Indeed the pulsations were pressing forward, as if he could release the creature and it would fling itself through the windshield.
“Still going forward, huh?” asked Baz.
Austin nodded, still holding the parasite tight, and then the muscles shifted to the passenger’s side window as they passed a car that was parked on the shoulder. His hand was thrust so violently to the left that he almost smacked Baz across the face my mistake.
Baz told Austin to turn the car around. “We’ve found them,” he said.
29
“I can’t believe w
e got a flat tire,” said Jenny, disgusted.
She was irritable, Jenny, more so now than ever, and Zack didn’t understand why. He was full of piss and vinegar and ready to kill and eat anyone that crossed his path. He felt as if he could look into the face of fear and laugh, as if he could rip the Reaper’s skull from his shroud and kick it like a soccer ball.
So why the hell was Jenny so irritated? Or was he misunderstanding irritability for something else. She almost looked worried, and then again, that could just be a misinterpretation of the features of her human face. She looked so innocent for the cruel and dangerous beast she was inside. Shedding his previous doubts, he was proud to be in her company.
“Zack,” said Jenny, “you need to fix the flat as fast as you can. Something’s wrong. I sense something terrible and we’re too far from a forbidden zone to slip into the In Between while danger passes us by.”
Zack spun the tire iron removing the lug nuts from the flat tire. “Danger? What are you talking about?”
“Not sure, but something’s up. I can feel it.” Jenny looked up and down the two-lane blacktop, into the clusters of pine and oak trees and to the sky, looking for the source of her discomfort.
With the lugs off, Zack pulled the flat tire from the vehicle. He’d already found the spare in the trunk beneath a hidden compartment. It was one of those pinched little tires that aren’t supposed to go on the freeway and supposedly have something like five hundred miles in them, but it would do. It was going to have to do.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” said Zack, confidence surrounding him like an aura.
Jenny shot him a pair of eyes that glowed in her innocent face like balls of molten steel, her brow crooking in a way that a girl-next-door’s face wouldn’t have been capable of.
“There’s plenty to fear. When I’m agitated, you’d better do yourself a favor and be afraid.”