“Welcome, Scientist Lewis,” called a bright, mellow female voice from the oval rink. It glided around the room, following closely on the heels of the sound of the skates. Mallory just barely caught quick glimpses of her as she sailed through the swirling mass of bright circles. “And welcome to you, Stranger with Unkempt Hair.”
“Hey!” Mallory said. She reached up and smoothed down her hair as best she could. “I didn’t shower today,” she grumbled, though she immediately realized that this explanation didn’t really help defend an attack on her personal hygiene all that much.
“It is wild and natural,” the soothing voice sang. “You are most welcome here. And your name is…Juanita. Yes? Welcome, Juanita!”
“Juanita?” Mallory soured. She elbowed Lewis in the side. “Juanita?”
“You look like a Juanita,” the voice confirmed as it skated laps around the rink.
“She’s not portending yet,” Lewis explained in a whisper. “When she portends, she’s always right. Always. She just has to…you know…warm up first.”
The skates skidded to a halt on the other side of the wall where Mallory and Lewis stood. The fluorescent lights flickered back to life. The woman standing before them was tall and willowy, strong and beautiful. She had long, honey-brown hair held down by a wide cloth headband with an intricate pattern of interlocking elephants printed on it. Her eyes were green and bright, and her pale skin was dotted with freckles. She wore a pair of brown hemp capris and a sleeveless white linen blouse that allowed her powerful arms to move freely. She smiled at Mallory in the newly restored light, looked her up and down, and said, “You look much more like a Juanita with the lights on.”
Mallory, who was wholly uncertain how to respond to such a remark, simply said, “Thanks.”
“Scientist Lewis,” the oracle gushed, taking one of his hands on both of hers. “How wonderful to see you. How have you been?”
“Troubled,” Lewis admitted.
But as he said it, the oracle closed her eyes, shook her head, and said, “Shh-shh-shh-shh-shh. You do not have to say it. I can see it in your eyes. You have been troubled.”
Mallory scoffed. “This is our best hope for saving the town?”
“Is the town in danger?” the oracle asked with a dreamy smile.
Lewis nodded. “I think so. That’s why we’re here, we need your help.”
“Ah.” The oracle’s face fell, and she released Lewis’ hand. She pushed back from the wall and skated slowly away, her legs weaving in and out gracefully, propelling her backward. “I had hoped you were here for Disco Night,” she sighed.
“Maybe next time. We need a prophecy.”
The oracle brightened a bit. “Yes, of course! How wonderful. It’s been ages since anyone’s come to call.” She skated around the rink, her legs pumping powerfully, her arms swaying with the motion. “People stopped coming because I kept telling them how they would die,” she called out, explaining to Mallory from across the rink. She made the turn and spun to a stop near her guests once more. She smiled sweetly and placed her hands on Mallory’s shoulders. “Would you like to know how you’ll die?” she asked.
“Uh…” Mallory stared doubtfully at the oracle. Then she looked over at Lewis. “I think I’ll wait outside,” she decided. She turned back toward the doors, but the oracle snatched her hand and held it tightly.
“Wait! You must have an ICEE first!” She leaned in and whispered with a wink, “They’re free.”
“Well, holy shit…if they’re free,” she said. But the oracle smiled pleasantly, and Mallory realized just how exhausted she was. Her misadventures had taken their toll, both physically and mentally, and she decided that a nearly-lethal injection of cold sugar might actually help a bit.
“Wonderful,” the oracle decided. “And you, Lewis. You should not have an ICEE, because you are a very small person, and the sugar might overpower you to a dangerous degree.”
“That’s fine,” Lewis said, waving her off. “Listen, I really do enjoy our visits—you know I do—but—”
“Of course!” the oracle gasped. “The prophecy! Wait here, scientist, I’ll fetch the vapors.” She skated over to one of the other cutouts and hopped up from the rink onto the old tile floor. She glided over to the row of sort-of-blue lockers, popped one open, and began rummaging around inside.
Meanwhile, Mallory was having a hell of a time figuring out how to work an ICEE machine. She held a cup beneath the spout on the blue side and pulled the little white lever, but nothing came out. She tried the red side and failed there, too. She smacked the side of the machine, which chugged along happily, mixing up the slushy inside and generally ignoring Mallory’s attempts to fill her cup. The Wait – Do Not Pour light was off, and the Ready light was on, but still, she couldn’t figure out how to make the ICEE flow. “I have a master’s degree,” she hissed at the stupid thing. “Now pour me a fucking Slurpee!” She threw her cup at the ICEE maker. It bounced off harmlessly and clattered to the ground. Mallory scowled. “Fine.” She reached around to the back and pulled the ICEE mixer’s plug out of the wall. The machine lost power, and the arms stopped their incessant mixing. Mallory smiled ruefully. “I win.”
I wonder if I have anger issues, she thought idly as she walked away from the snack counter.
The oracle turned from the locker, holding a cup of water in one hand and a small mesh bag that seemed to be full of rocks in the other. She skated breezily back onto the wooden floor and skimmed over to the center of the rink. She set down her items and pulled up a hidden latch on one of the boards. The wood came up, and the oracle placed the plank gently to the side. She picked up the little mesh satchel, untied it, and dumped its contents into the open space between the floorboards. They were rocks, or something quite like them; shiny, black, grape-sized stones poured from the bag and disappeared beneath the floor. Then the oracle took the cup and spilled the water down into the channel. It hissed and spat as it splashed down onto the rocks, as if they were hot coals, and a dense smoke billowed up and began to spread across the rink. Smiling, and satisfied, the oracle stood up, wiped her hands on her blouse, and swizzled her way around the rink.
The dense white cloud grew thicker, and it wafted out to the further edges of the rink. The acrid smell of frankincense stung Mallory’s nose, and her eyes began to water. Lewis seemed to be having a similar reaction; he sneezed four times and rubbed vigorously at his quickly-reddening nose. But the oracle spread her arms wide as she skated around and around through the growing mist, breathing deeply, letting the vapor fill her lungs. She closed her eyes, and Mallory thought for sure she’d plow face-first into the far wall, but she navigated the oval perfectly, with practiced, fluid glides.
“What is it you seek?” the oracle called out airily as she zipped past her visitors. “Speak, Scientist Lewis, and know what the future holds.” As she took the curve, she gasped and said, with no small measure of delight, “Lewis! I didn’t know you had an evil clone!”
Lewis nudged Mallory. “See?” he murmured. He cleared his throat and spoke louder. “That’s what we came to inquire about. What atrocities does he have planned for Anomaly Flats?”
The disco music continued to bump its way through the old speakers, and the oracle bobbed her head to the rhythm. “The well of his hatred is deep. He is small in stature, but fierce and powerful in spirit.” Mallory couldn’t tell for sure in the dim lighting, but she thought she saw Lewis’ spine straighten with pride at the sound of that…which she found a little perverse, if she were being honest with herself. The oracle continued, her voice growing hollow and cold: “He is a creature of great danger who seeks to plunge us into darkness. Mark my word, Scientist Lewis, and hear me well; I see only a glimpse of what is to be, but not how it will resolve.” The oracle skated to a stop at the wall and grabbed Lewis’ hands, this time both of them. She opened her eyes, and her b
right green irises had been replaced by a milky whiteness so that her pupils were pinpoints of ink against pearls. “At sundown tomorrow,” the oracle whispered, her voice sharp and full of urgency, “the clone will endeavor to open the door.” The fluorescent lights went dark once more, and the oracle released Lewis’ hands and pushed herself back into the cloudy darkness of the roller rink. “He will endeavor to open the door,” she repeated with a hiss.
“Wait!” Lewis pleaded, leaning out over the wall. “What door? Which door?!”
The swarm of rainbow lights dappled the vapor mist, but the fog was so thick, it swallowed the woman completely. From within the cloud of swirling light echoed the final words of the oracle.
“Inside the Walmart. Aisle 8.”
Chapter 15
“Your evil clone is going to Walmart?” Mallory asked suspiciously as they pulled away from the roller rink. “He’s going to destroy the world with discount savings?”
“The Anomaly Flats Supercenter is much more than just great values and low prices,” Lewis said seriously, navigating onto a dark and twisting road that wound back through the woods. “It’s also a place of unspeakable evil.”
“Whoa…I know they don’t pay all that well, but are we really calling minimum wage unspeakably evil?” Mallory asked.
Lewis shook his head. “No, not that,” he said. Then he thought a minute. “Well…yes. That, too. But the evil inside the Walmart goes far, far beyond substandard wages.”
“Ah,” Mallory said. “Off-brand cheese.”
Lewis peeled his eyes from the road and shot Mallory an angry, searching look. “Is this a joke to you?” he asked.
Mallory shrugged. “Almost anything can be a joke if you get the delivery down.”
Lewis returned his eyes to the road and maneuvered the RV to the shoulder. He pulled the world’s most awkward U-turn, nearly bashing the Winnebago into several trees in the process, and headed back in the direction from which they’d just come, away from town. “Where are we going?” Mallory asked.
“I’m taking you back to my place,” he said, turning down a narrow road that ran along the border of the woods and a barren field.
“You know that I’m definitely not sleeping with you,” Mallory pointed out. Lewis’ hands jerked involuntarily, and the RV swerved off the road and into the grass. He overcorrected, and the Winnie screeched back and forth on the pavement before settling down on a straight path.
Lewis cleared his throat. “I’m not—I don’t—” he began.
“Calm down,” Mallory said, rolling her eyes, “it’s a joke.” She thought for a second, then added, “I mean, it’s not a joke. I’m not sleeping with you. But you know. You know what I mean.”
They drove along quietly for a few minutes, each trying desperately not to think about what the other person might be thinking about. Finally, Mallory broke the silence: “Wait, why are we going back to your place?”
“It’s very important that you understand what we’re up against,” he said. “There’s something I want you to hear.”
X
Lewis’ house turned out to be an old barn that crouched at the northern edge of Farmer Buchheit’s property. “I thought you said Farmer Buchheit was an asshole,” Mallory said.
“He is,” Lewis said, pulling open the front door. “You should see what he charges for this place.”
By Mallory’s estimation, anything over $10 a month was too much. The barn’s scant renovations amounted to the addition of a gas stove against one wall, a small icebox next to it, and a mattress that was slung down onto the floor of the hayloft overhead. The only light came from three bare bulbs suspended from the ceiling and one solo bulb fastened to the wall near the door. The sink was nothing more than a pig trough bolted to the wall and fed with a garden hose, and the shower appeared to be a bucket with holes punched in the bottom. Lewis had amassed a small collection of plywood boards, and by balancing them on various stools and crates, he’d created a series of tables. Most of them were covered with laboratory equipment. One was covered in dirty dishes. “How do you do science in here?” Mallory demanded.
Lewis blushed, clearly ashamed to be showing his little home to another person, especially to a person who was a reasonably-attractive-if-wild-haired woman. Mallory would have bet the bank that she was the first pair of X chromosomes to ever step through these barn doors. “I do most of my work in the RV,” he said quietly, brushing some of the dust away from the floorboards with the toe of his shoe. “The lighting’s better in there. And the electricity’s more reliable.”
“But…where’s the bathroom?” Mallory asked, wholly unable to keep the horror out of her voice.
“There’s an outhouse.”
“An outhouse? Christ, are we in Arkansas?”
“Yes, an outhouse. It’s only a quarter-mile walk out the back.”
“Seriously? And this no-plumbing cowshed is your home? Who the hell is your realtor?!”
“You don’t like it,” he said, crestfallen. He tugged at the lapels of his lab coat and hugged the white cloth tightly around himself.
“I mean…” Mallory paused and tried to summon up some words of encouragement. “It’s…it’s really fine, Lewis. It’s just really fine. Yeah. You know? Someone could definitely live here. Totally.”
Yep, she thought. Nailed it.
Lewis’ face grew even darker red. Mallory hoped it wouldn’t explode…it would make a horrible mess, and she didn’t know how to get blood out of things. “No one really pays me for my experiments,” he said, skirting around the house, stacking up dishes and tidying up as best he could. “I make a little money, you know, from odd jobs and things, but this is, ah…well, this is what I can afford. You know?”
Mallory shook her head and held up her hands. “I’m sorry, Lewis. Really. I didn’t mean that. Don’t listen to me. It’s nice. Really. It is.” She picked up some of the dishes and set them in the pig trough. She turned on the hose and sprayed them down. Water splashed everywhere, and a piece of something hard and brown that had been dried onto one of the plates flew into her eye. She tried not to gag. “It’s cozy. Very…rustic.”
Lewis frowned and cleared off the rest of the table, dumping papers and beakers and plates into a heap in the corner. “Don’t worry about all that,” he said, nodding at the pig trough. He shimmied up the ladder to the loft, disappeared up there for a few moments, and then reemerged holding a little black rectangle. “This is what I wanted to show you.”
Mallory squinted up at the thing in his hand. “Is that a tape recorder?” she asked, disgusted. “You know they make, like, iPhones, right?”
Lewis stepped carefully down the ladder and motioned for Mallory to join him at the table. “Magnetic fields,” he reminded her. “Have a seat.” He placed the recorder on the flimsy plywood surface and perched on a stool at the head of the table.
Mallory joined him, balancing precariously on a stool of her own. She felt the thin wood shift under her weight, and she silently cursed Chick-fil-A. One bag of waffle fries, and now I’m fat. She wondered if there was a yoga studio in town. Probably not. And if there was, she reasoned, it was probably run by vampires.
“The threat posed by my clone is…significant,” Lewis began, fiddling nervously with the recorder. “I knew he was evil, obviously, but this evil? The Walmart…aisle 8...Mallory, it’s not just bad. It’s potentially world-ending.”
Mallory looked at him skeptically. “You mean, like, your own personal world? Or literally the whole world?”
Lewis set his mouth in a grim line. “Both, I’m afraid. The destruction will start with us here in Anomaly Flats, and spread quickly, wiping out the whole of planet Earth.”
“Huh.” Mallory couldn’t argue; that did sound significant. The very idea that an abomination of her creation could bring about the end of the
world…well, it didn’t exactly seem feasible, but it did seem significant. It also made her kind of proud, in a macabre sort of way. A strange question occurred to her then: “Hey, what about Mars?”
“Mallory…” Lewis began, sounding unbelievably tired.
“No, I’m serious! It’s a whole other planet, but it’s also part of Anomaly Flats. Do you think Mars will get destroyed too?”
Lewis sighed heavily. “I honestly don’t know,” he said. “And I’m hoping not to find out.”
Mallory shook her head and, in doing so, nearly toppled off the flimsy stool. “This is ludicrous,” she said, grapping the table for support. “I’m as socially anti-Walmart as the next upper-middle-class white person, but the destruction of the entire planet? Maybe two planets? Come on. Sam Walton wasn’t Hitler.” She thought for a moment, then added, “But some of the greeters are pretty awful. I’ve met a few front-door retirees who have attitudes like A-bombs.”
“It’s not the Walmart itself that’s the problem,” Lewis said. “It’s what’s inside the Walmart. In aisle 8. It’s this.” He nodded down at the tape recorder. It sat there, matte black and unassuming. Lewis picked it up and hovered his finger over the play button. “About ten years ago, one of our citizens went into the Walmart. They were having a special on canned beets that day. Two for thirty-nine cents. It was an incredible deal. He just couldn’t resist.”
“Who could?” Mallory mumbled sarcastically. Lewis ignored her.
“We told him not to go in. We begged him. We pleaded. But a man’s love for beets can be stronger than reason,” he said seriously. Mallory tried hard to stifle a laugh, but she didn’t do a very good job. Once again, Lewis ignored her. “He came out…changed.”
Now that piqued Mallory’s attention. “Changed? Changed how?” she asked, leaning gingerly forward.
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