by R. W. Ridley
I learned his name was Stevie Spangler. He had a flat facial profile, a depressed nasal bridge, and a small nose. His eyes had an upward slant. He obviously looked similar to Stevie Dayton because they both had Down syndrome.
"Are you here by yourself, Stevie?" I asked.
"No, I'm with you, silly," he said. This drew a laugh from Tyrone and Valerie.
"No, I mean, were you here by yourself before we came?"
"Yes," he said. "Eveebody's gone."
"Have you left the hospital since they went away?"
"No, monstas out they." He pointed toward the outside world.
"How do you know?"
"I hea' dem."
"You hear them? The monsters?"
He nodded his head. "They lookin' fo sto-weetellas"
"Sto-weetellas?"
"Sto-weetellas," he repeated.
I didn't understand. Valerie tugged on my shirt and whispered, "Storytellers."
"Storytellers?" I said, perplexed.
Stevie nodded.
"What storytellers?"
Stevie shrugged his shoulders. "All of dem."
"How do you know all this?" I asked.
"I he' dem."
"You hear them? They talk?"
"No," he said. "They say it to my bain." He pointed to his head.
"Brain? They're telepathic?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
I rubbed my chin. "What do they say to your brain?"
He thought about the question. "They say they look fo seven."
"Seven what?"
"Sto-weetellas."
"Are you a Storyteller? Is that why you can hear them?"
He looked at me as if I had just asked the most asinine question ever. "No, no, no." He giggled a little. "I'm the janito."
"Why do they want these Storytellers?"
"To finish the sto-wee." He gave me the same perplexed look. I could see the wheels turning in his head. He was trying to assess exactly how stupid I was.
A thunderous crash came from outside the chapel. I jumped to my feet. Valerie and Tyrone stood behind me. Stevie ducked under the pew and curled up in the fetal position.
"They don't want me to say anymo'," he said. "They don't want me to say anymo'." He repeated it over and over again until it became a fast rhythmic chant.
I had both hands on J.J. Tyrone, Valerie, and I were backing away, scanning every inch of the chapel, looking for the Takers to materialize out of thin air. Kimball paced excitedly in the back of the room.
"No!" Stevie screamed. "Don't make me do it!"
"Stevie, calm down," I said. "Don't let them get in your head."
"They want me to say they name," he said.
"Don't do it, Stevie. Don't do it."
He stood. His face was red. I could see his temples pulsing. His hands were covering his ears. Tears streamed down his cheek. "Beway," he gurgled. His tongue was turning purple. He was fighting it, but he was losing. "Beway…"
I took Valerie's hand. "Tyrone grab on to Valerie." He did as requested. I pulled them around the side of the pews to the back of the chapel. We raced for the door.
"Beway the Takas!" Stevie shouted.
With that his body relaxed, and his shoulders slumped. He turned to us, sopping wet from his battle. "Won," he said.
"Won?" I said. "You won?"
He shook his head and screamed, "Won!"
"Run." Tyrone pulled on my hand. "He said, run."
The words barely had time to leave Tyrone's mouth when the door to the chapel came flying open, hitting Kimball and knocking him across the room. A Taker entered, its teeth chattering. This one was bigger than the ones we had encountered in the Kroger's. It stooped over to avoid hitting the ceiling. It let out a roar that shook the building. The Taker stomped toward Stevie.
"Won! Save the sto-weetellas!" Stevie picked up a hymnal from the pew and threw it at the Taker. The monster caught the fat book in its mouth and thrashed its head back and forth.
I slid against the back wall with Tyrone and Valerie in tow. The Taker was fixated on Stevie. The door had been knocked from its bottom hinge. It hung precariously from the top hinge. I pushed it easily and peered up and down the hallway. It was clear. I pulled Tyrone and Valerie in front of me and sent them into the hallway. "Kimball," I said. I had not noticed until that moment that he had not moved since he was hit by the door and sent flying across the room.
I handed J.J. to Tyrone "Go down to the wagon and tell Lou to get out of here."
"But what about you?" he asked.
"I'll catch up. Just go. Get Valerie down to the wagon and get out of here."
He brandished the heavy sword with some difficulty and ran towards the exit with Valerie.
I stepped away from the battered doorway and made my way toward Kimball. The Taker was nearly on top of Stevie. Stevie was screaming and throwing every hymnal and Bible he could get his hands on as he backed away from the creature. I bent to the ground and scooped Kimball up in my arms. He had regained some of his weight since I first saw him a few days ago, so the task of carrying him took every bit of strength I had. I stood and heard the horrible gurgled scream of Stevie. The Taker had him halfway in his mouth. Stevie's legs kicked and flailed about as the monster began to swallow him whole.
My mind raced. I had to do something to help him. I put Kimball down and quickly pulled a lighter and M-98 firecracker out of my pocket. I fumbled with the lighter. I flicked the lighter over and over again unable to get it lit. Finally, as my thumb throbbed from my unsuccessful attempts, the flame appeared. With a shaky right hand, I lit the firecracker and prepared to throw it at the Taker, but much to my dismay, Stevie was gone and the creature had turned his focus on me. He stepped toward me, and I could see his overstuffed stomach involuntarily expand and contract. Stevie was still alive. He was fighting the Taker from within.
I threw the firecracker. It exploded near the creature's shoulder. It stopped momentarily. An open wound smoked on the Taker's shoulder. The monster shrugged it off and continued its pursuit of me. I lit a second firecracker and tossed it in the
Taker's mouth. The M-98 exploded. Two teeth shot out of the monster's mouth, but it still pressed forward. I tossed a third and fourth firecracker, each time striking a direct hit on the creature and slowing its advance. But I could not stop it. I had a fifth M-98 lit when its huge hands wrapped around my neck. It lifted me off the ground with its mouth open and its remaining teeth folded in. It was going to swallow me. Its slimy tongue licked my face. I took the lit firecracker and stuffed it down its throat, and then grabbed the Taker's snout and tried with all my might to push myself away from its mouth. I heard a muffled pop. The monster dropped me. It grasped its throat with both hands.
The Taker stumbled back and fell over a row of pews. I took the opportunity to pick up Kimball and run to the door. Before I exited, I looked back at the fallen creature. It was still alive, but in pain. It rolled over on its hands and knees, coughing and wheezing. I wanted to go back and see if I could help Stevie, but I convinced myself that he was dead now, churning in the monster's stomach. I leapt through the broken door and headed towards the exit with Kimball who was now beginning to stir.
I threw my shoulder into the stairwell door and was surprised to see Ajax and Lou standing on the other side. "What are you doing here?" I asked short of breath.
"We came to help."
The Taker stumbled out of the chapel. It was still grasping its throat with one hand. It spotted me by the stairwell exit and headed towards me.
"Well you can start by getting out of the way!"
Lou saw the creature and quickly complied. We reached the third floor before we heard the fifth floor stairwell door crash open. The Taker was slowing. We heard it let out a strained roar. It sounded as if it were dying. I had mortally wounded it.
When we reached the first floor, the Taker was finished. The unmistakable sounds of it tumbling down a flight of steps echoed through the stairwell.
> Kimball groaned and lifted his head. He began to squirm making it impossible for me to continue to hold onto him. I set him down and he stood on wobbly legs. Ajax gently patted his old pal on the back and hooted.
We opened the door to the hallway and stepped out into the corridor. I collapsed to the floor. The slime from the Taker's hand was still on my neck. I frantically tried to wipe it off.
"You all right?" Lou asked.
"No," I said. "Didn't Tyrone tell you to leave?"
"Yep," she said.
"So, why didn't you?"
"I don't know how to drive that stupid wagon," she said. "Besides I couldn't just leave you."
"Yeah, well next time do what I say." I stood. The emergency room sign caught my eye.
"You're not the boss of me," Lou said.
I ignored her and headed for the emergency room.
"Where are you going?" She asked.
I didn't answer. I continued down the hallway.
"We should get back to the wagon," she said. "I left the baby with Tyrone and Valerie."
"Go ahead. I'll be out in a second." I opened the emergency room door and disappeared inside. All that I could think about was seeing the Taker swallow Stevie whole. The poor guy was eaten alive. I wondered to myself if there was a chance, however small, that he was still alive in that creature's belly. I stepped behind a curtained partition and saw a silver tray of instruments, just what I was looking for. I grabbed the scalpel and turned to see Lou staring at me dumbfounded. "What are you going to do with that?" she asked. "I thought you were going out to the wagon." "I sent Ajax and Kimball. What are you going to do?" I held the scalpel up. "I don't know if you want to see this."
***
Thankfully the Taker had fallen on its back. Its extended belly was easily accessible.
"This one is bigger than the other two," Lou said.
"You don't have to tell me," I said kneeling down beside it. I placed the scalpel on the monster's stomach and hesitated. "You might want to look the other way," I warned. Lou didn't respond. She stared tight-lipped at the monster. She was determined to watch me cut it open. I silently counted to three and then lightly moved the blade across the Taker's stomach. Blood oozed along the expanding slit. A rush of hot steamy air rose out of the opening that carried with it the foul odor of spoiled milk. When I had made about a two-foot cut, I put the scalpel down. I rubbed my hands together, said a quick prayer and then pulled back the thick leathery skin. A layer of fat obstructed my view so I cut it away. Once I sliced past the fat, I stared at the insides of the creature in amazement. There was nothing there, no Stevie, no stomach, no bones, nothing. It was literally a black hole.
"What do you make of that?" Lou said sounding a little relieved not to find the partially digested body of Stevie Spangler inside.
"I don't know." I stuck my hand inside. I slowly pushed it past the fat and into the black hole. I was in it up to my wrist and then my elbow and then my shoulder.
"Gross," Lou finally said.
I pulled my arm out, and except for a little bit of slime from the layers of fat, it was clean. "There's nothing there I said."
"Isn't that a good thing?" she asked.
"Where'd Stevie go?"
***
We were in Dalton, Georgia when it started to rain again. The closest shelter we could find was a carpet outlet warehouse. The loading dock was open and I was able to drive the wagon up the ramp and inside the enormous building. Gigantic rolls of carpet stacked ten feet high were placed throughout the entire building. Dozens of carpet manufacturers' signs hung from the ceiling. It was a carpet lover's paradise.
We all found a spot and attempted to relax. The morning at the hospital left us all a little worse for the wear. We were battle fatigued. Kimball was doing better, but he was still a little woozy. Ajax tried to coax him into a rough-and-tumble play session, but Kimball snapped at him and lay down on a stack of throw rugs.
I sat propped up against a roll of green carpet and flipped through Dr. Fine's book. My conversation with Ajax the day before kept replaying in my head. He had said something about "Gorilla's always know," and "Old future." And there was something nonsensical he said about "Sentence tell." I flipped through the pages of the book and stopped when I saw a series of photos of Ajax's artwork. Most of it was just handprints and paint splatters, but some of it could pass for real art, I suppose. A lot of it looked pretty dreary. He painted a few that looked like flames. But there was one in particular that drew my attention, hidden in globs of black and gray paint, I could almost detect glowing red eyes peering out. I was stunned when I read the caption, "Ajax calls this one 'Old Future,' though no one on the staff can ascertain what he means." I flipped the page. There was a picture of Dr. Fine sitting on the floor with Ajax. He looks to be making the sign for sentence. The caption read, "Ajax worries about the storytellers again." Storytellers! I felt as if I would explode with anticipation. Ajax wasn't signing, "Sentence tell." He was signing "Storyteller." More specifically he was saying, "Baby Storyteller."
On the next page of the book, there was a brief explanation of Ajax's obsession with the storytellers. Dr. Fine wrote:
"To those disbelievers who think gorillas aren't capable of cognitive thought, that they lack imagination or the ability to invent fantasy for the sake of entertainment, I direct you to Ajax's Storytellers. On most nights, Ajax will regale visitors with fantastic stories of the end of the world. He tells vivid tales of grotesque creatures from what he calls 'Imagined Lands,' that seek out eight storytellers that will give them 'Permanent Blood.' He speaks of warrior heroes that sacrifice their lives to protect the storytellers. It is a classic tale of good versus evil that only lacks an ending."
I read the passage several times. Is it possible that a gorilla knew that the end of the world was coming? That he knew about the Takers and their origins? "Possible," I thought. I had just seen a man swallowed by a creature that did not exist in the known world, and I was asking if something was possible. It was obvious that anything was possible. It was apparent that what he meant by "All gorillas know," and "Old future," was that what was happening to the world right now with the Takers and the Storytellers is old gorilla folklore. That it is a precognitive story of the world shared by all gorillas. "Old future." They've always known this would happen.
I called out to Ajax. He knuckle-walked his way over to me and sat down. "Tell me about the old future," I said.
He signed, "Old future now."
"Who are the storytellers?"
"Eight," he signed.
I told him Stevie Spangler had said there were seven.
"Seven now," he signed.
Seven now? I thought about his answer. The comic book. Stevie Dayton was one of the Storytellers, but now he was dead. Eight had become seven. I asked Ajax if this is what happened.
He nodded and signed, "seven now," again.
"Where are the other Storytellers?"
He signed, "All world," and "baby Storyteller."
"Baby Storyteller?" I looked at Lou who was feeding Nate. I turned back to Ajax. "Our baby is a Storyteller?"
He grinned and nodded. "Protect baby," he signed.
I remembered Stevie Spangler yelling "Save the Sto-weetellas," as he was backing away from the Taker. It was all too big a responsibility for me to bear. I was just a kid. We were all just kids. How could we be expected to protect Nate from the Takers? We were outmatched in every way.
He pointed to me and made the signs for "war" and "man".
"War man?" I asked.
He repeated the sign, and pointed to Lou and then Kimball. "War man."
I flipped through the book to see if I could find a reference for this. I did. It was a phrase he used frequently. To Ajax "War man," meant "warrior."
He continued. "War man find keep. Protect baby."
I tried to tell him I wasn't a warrior, but he responded that I had always been a warrior. "I'm just a dumb kid," I said. "I've never been in a fight
in my life."
He huffed and repeated, "War man find keep." He was getting frustrated with me.
"What's a keep," I asked.
"Keep," he signed emphatically. "Keep protect Storytellers. Keep help remove take. Keep good."
He was getting more and more frustrated with me and as a result his signing was getting sloppy and his phrasing was off. I tried to calm him by assuring him that I understood, but he knew I was lying. He let out a pained groan and lurched away. All the while I'm sure he was thinking to himself that I was possibly the dumbest human he had ever encountered.
I leaned back against the roll of carpet and closed my eyes. I was angry. Not at Ajax, but at the situation. I didn't want to be a warrior. I wanted to be a kid. I wanted to go to Titans games. I wanted to spend my time coming up with creative excuses for not raking the yard.
Nate started to get restless and cried out. Lou quickly tended to him. He's not my responsibility I told myself. I don't care what Mrs. Chalmers said. If the Takers wanted him, they could have him. I wasn't going to risk my life for something that does nothing more than poop, sleep, and vomit. I had had it.
I opened my eyes to find Lou standing over me with Nate. "What?" I said unintentionally sharp.
"I have to…" she hesitated.
"You have to what?"
"I have to… You know?" She was shifting from one leg to the other.
"No, I don't know," I said, not really in the mood to play a guessing game.
"Go to the bathroom," she whispered.
"Oh," I said trying not to smile. "So."
"So, can you watch Nate?"
I looked at the wriggling little baby in her arms. "Get Tyrone and Valerie to do it."
She turned and watched the two little kids chasing each other around the warehouse. They looked as if they were playing tag. "They're not old enough to watch a baby."
"I'm busy," I said.
"Doing what?"
"None of your business."
She bent down and put Nate on my lap. "You're watching him," she said. "And that's that." She stood and sped away before I could protest.