"I bet he can't," I said. "He can use them to appear and move, but I think he always returns to the scrap of paper. That is him. It just feels right. Which is why that room with the scrap is so secure - in the middle of the studio, climate controlled, with employees paranoid about anyone going in."
"No shit, man, people get crazy when you just go in the Creature Room!" said Ben. "Like, what if I just wanted to gawk at Oily Doily?"
"Deb was always the worst about it," said Terry. "Which I guess we know the reason why now."
"There's still the question of whether we're wrong," said Charlie. "If he can move through images, the studio is the most dangerous place for us to be. I'm willing to make the risk to end this, but if we're wrong, we're in danger for nothing."
"Let's hedge our bets then," I said. "We'll destroy all the merchandise."
"Probably a good idea if he can appear out of nowhere with it," said Terry.
I nodded. "Every image of him will need to be destroyed, but the scrap is the key."
"And how are we going to do that?" said Charlie.
I smiled. "With lots of gasoline..."
Nineteen
Normally I am not a person who likes solving things with violence. This shouldn't surprise you, since I doubt you yourself are much different than I. Outside of our angry fantasies, most people don't actually enjoy solving things with violent solutions. We would rather find some better way, the elusive win-win or some situation that offers us relief rather than conflict. Only the rare person solves problems fists-first. And those individuals soon find that other people start solving their problems with them police-first, knife-first, or gun-first. It's hard to have an affection for violent problem solving for too long before encountering someone with a bigger urge and arsenal for solving you that way.
In this case, it ended up that violence was our only viable option - destruction as a form of violence. And what disappoints me more in hindsight is that some part of me actually enjoyed that fact. Some part of me was so very angry at the attacks on me, on Franny, even on Charlie. Some part of me didn't want just a solution, it wanted to hit back as hard as we were hit. This sort of anger was uncharacteristic for me. It was on some level uncomfortable to feel like that, to feel so alien. And yet I didn't hold back the rage - I wallowed in it. I reveled in it.
We stood in the parking lot in front of the studio. It was midnight. It had taken some time for our preparations, and at Charlie's suggestion, we were going in late at night. He argued that there would be less of a chance of anyone in the building. As a cop, even if we were doing something illegal, he didn't want anyone hurt. Despite my boiling anger, I also didn't want to hurt anyone other than Hornswaggle, but how many more would be hurt if Hornswaggle's show went on the air and he could be everywhere? However, I saw his point that there would likely to be less resistance at midnight. If anyone else was there, it would probably be Deb and her confederates. If they even were there - did they guard the place all night? Did they expect us coming the same night in case we didn't back off? The studio could very well be empty. I hoped it was empty.
We each carried red plastic gas cans we had filled up at the gas station a few blocks away. Terry also carried a duffle bag of a few other items that we decided would help us. Charlie and I each had our pistols, though we hoped we didn't need them. We only wanted to fight a supernatural enemy, and hopefully we could avoid fighting him by utilizing the element of surprise. Naive, we know, but hope springs eternal.
We had all unconsciously come to a stop thirty feet from the building to look at it. I'm sure the weight of what we were going to do was heavy upon our minds - the danger, the possibility of failure, and the consequences even if we succeeded. I broke the silence. "Are we ready to do this?"
Though obviously nervous, Ben engaged some of his enthusiasm. "I was born r-"
"You were not born ready for this," said Terry, who knew Ben far too well.
Not letting the rebuff hurt him, Ben replied, "Yeah, I'm ready."
"Remember, we do this clean and according to plan, so nobody gets hurt," said Charlie.
"Few plans survive contact with the enemy," said Terry.
"I've forgotten how much of a downer you are when sober," said Ben. We had made sure they hadn't smoked pot before this, no matter how much their nerves wanted it. Well, Ben's nerves. Terry saw the wisdom of not doing this high.
"Alright, it sounds like we're as ready as we're going to be. Let's go," I said.
We briskly walked up to the front of the studio, halfway between a jog and a casual walk. Once at the door, Terry used his badge on the door. This was one of the possible flaws of the plan. If Deb had outright fired them earlier in the evening and had IT yank their access immediately, their badges wouldn't work and we'd have to forcefully break in. However, based on what I knew of offices, I wagered that even if she had pulled the trigger on firing them, their badges would still work. Most IT guys would find a reason to do an afterhours task like that at 9am the next day.
I had guessed right. The door opened.
Charlie grabbed the door to keep it open. With a nod, we all put our gas cans down. Terry dropped the duffle bag and unzipped it. He pulled out a baseball bat, which he handed to Ben. Then he pulled out two cans of spray paint. I zipped up the duffle bag and threw it over my shoulder.
"You're up," I said.
Ben held the bat and grinned. "I've been waiting for this."
Then the two of them broke into a run, racing through the studio halls. Charlie watched them go as I picked up the gas cans so that I was holding one in each hand.
Charlie shook his head. "Part of me thinks that they're in more danger of falling and hurting themselves than from the demon."
"They'll do fine," I said, sliding up against the door to hold it open, allowing Charlie to grab two gas cans.
"I hope so."
Ben and Terry had an important job. It was one they were well-suited to and which they were both looking forward to. Before we even got to the Creature Room, there were various images of Hornswaggle through the entire studio. Posters, framed art, random merchandise. There was a risk that any of those could be used as a gateway for the demon to try to stop us. These had to be destroyed immediately. Ben and Terry had asked for this job. As employees of the studio, Ben and Terry would arouse less suspicion to anyone still in the studio, though that advantage would be meaningless after a few seconds. It came down to the fact that they had youthful exuberance for trashing their place of work. Ben ran through the halls hitting merchandise with violent joy, breaking frames that held posters with a manic glee, his bat swinging continuously. Terry followed up behind him, using spray paint to cover any posters and pictures which survived the bat. Of course there was a question of how fast Hornswaggle could manifest, so they needed to keep running, to stay moving.
As Charlie and I carried the gas cans down the halls, we saw the evidence of their work. Broken glass, half destroyed frames on the floor, pictures covered in black and brown, and the sharp smell of fresh spray paint. While I could hear hoots of joy from Ben, I didn't yet hear screams, so I guessed that they had evaded Hornswaggle so far.
"Nice studio, seems like a good place when not destroyed by two men angry at their jobs," quipped Charlie.
"Would be even better without a crazy demon god who wants a TV show about him," I responded.
We pushed through the doors for the set, propped open with a wheeled file cabinet by Terry. The Creature Room was through a door just off this room, so this was where we would regroup before trying to douse the room with gasoline, something we wanted to do as quickly as possible before Hornswaggle stopped us. This room was where our plan failed through contact with the enemy.
Terry and Ben were standing uneasily in the room. They had managed to deface the poster near the door, which fortunately was the only image of Hornswaggle in the room. But they had not gotten any farther because they weren't alone. No, our hopes were proven false; there were enemies in the bu
ilding. Deb was standing in the center of the room, looking haughty and smug. But what concerned me more was the person standing next to her. Blindfolded and in her white dress, it was the Seer. She had her long dagger out and her grim game-face on, which was why Ben and Terry had frozen. When her gaze turned on me, her face flushed with anger.
"Look at this, all our enemies now in one place!" said Deb. "How wonderful! We can get this over with tonight."
"What are you doing with her?" I said, directing my gaze at the Seer.
"This young lady had come to snoop around the studio, working under very false information," said Deb. "Evil at our fair studio? Impossible! But I encouraged her to stay around, suggesting that perhaps she'd still get to see some evil. Like a group of men who want to burn down a place where we make entertainment for children!"
"This not what it looks like," I said to the Seer. "The real evil is in that room." I gestured toward the Creature Room door. "It needs to be destroyed. You should help us, not her!"
"I don't know why I expected anything to come of your words," said the Seer. "Why did I believe you might have said something that was truth? I see now that your act of mercy was a trick, not true compassion. I feel foolish for even considering the idea that my sisters and I could be wrong, for coming here to look for evil. But your plan backfired! It was fortuitous that I bumped into her, as it allowed me to be here to stop you! The world will be at peace!"
"Wow, she talks like she's out of a comic book!" said Ben. "She's cute, though."
"I'm not your enemy!" I said, dropping one of my gas cans. "I was wrong when we first met. You were right, something very bad is coming, but it's not me! It's through that door!" I pointed to the Creature Room again.
The Seer looked at me, considering my seriousness and persistence in highlighting the Creature Room. The Seer then looked at the door and scrunched her brow. She turned her gaze on Deb, an unspoken question on her face.
"By all means, if you want to go in there, you can," said Deb. She walked over to the Creature Room door, swiped her badge, and pulled open the door. She kicked the doorstop down so the door stayed open. Charlie and I tensed. To the Seer, it looked like Deb was opening the door for viewing. For us, we knew she was doing that so Hornswaggle could get out. We waited, braced for danger, expecting the beast to come out and destroy all our plans.
However, there was no charging demon, no horse-headed monster, no eruption of supernatural evil. Both rooms were remarkably still, the only sound was the climate control in the Creature Room kicking in to compensate for the open door. Where was he? Why had Hornswaggle not appeared to stop us?
It took me a moment, but I realized what was happening. Hornswaggle was playing possum. If he appeared, the Seer would realize we were right, that there was indeed evil. Despite her previous attempts on my life, the Seer would know her holy mission. She would fight evil. She would be on our side. But if Hornswaggle hid, allowing Deb to control the situation, then the Seer would never see the evil. She could instead be used against us.
Hesitantly, her dagger still held on guard, the Seer walked to the door. She paused, as if expecting ferocious claws to grab at her, as if demonic energy would arc out, or something along the lines of the countless ways she imagined evil manifesting. When none were immediately evident, she poked her head into the room, taking a long moment to look at everything within. I'm sure that seeing a room full of puppets was unexpected and strange, and perhaps for a moment she thought the warning of evil was fulfilled. But they did not move, and both her surprise and sense of foreboding waned. The room appeared harmless and that's what she thought was true. She turned around abruptly, her face animated in new anger.
"You lied!" she said, spitting the words at me, her body moving forward toward me with violent intentions.
"Hold it right there, no sudden movements," said Charlie. He had put down his gas cans and pulled his gun while Deb and the Seer looked into the Creature Room. He held it level at the Seer.
"Oh, this is getting good!" said Deb with a grin. "Are you going to shoot her? Are you going to shoot me? Innocent women found dead at the scene of a break-in and arson? That's hardly good police procedure."
Charlie narrowed his eyes. It seemed like Deb or Hornswaggle had learned who Charlie was too. Besides allowing her new taunting opportunities, that meant that any family Charlie had were now vulnerable. It might make some men back off, but it would make other men just shoot Deb to end things and protect their family. In this case, Charlie didn't shoot anyone, but he didn't drop his pistol from its aim either.
"How about you two move away from that door," said Charlie, gesturing with the gun.
"I have my faith and my sisters' foresight! I fear nothing when evil can be cleansed!" announced the Seer. Then she rushed toward Charlie and I, her blade held before her.
I didn't have my gun out, so I used what weapon I had. I lobbed the gas can at the Seer, but she ducked under it, the can bouncing off the wall near the door, the cap coming off. Gasoline started gushing out onto the floor. Charlie had the gun aimed at the Seer, but he hesitated. Was it because he wasn't sure she was truly an enemy? Or did he have some reason to hesitate about shooting a young girl?
At the last second he said, "Ah, goddammit!" He fired, but the shot went wide as the Seer moved to the side quickly, as if she knew when he was going to shoot or Charlie intended to miss. As she closed the distance on him, Charlie punched out with his other arm. He connected with only a glancing blow, as she ducked again. She wasn't as hesitant in her actions as Charlie. I watched as she lunged toward him and I heard his grunt of pain as the dagger dug into his side. Not as deep as the wound which nearly killed me, but deep enough that there was blood as she pulled out the blade. Charlie swayed on his feet and then fell to the ground. The Seer turned toward me, her rage now in a boil.
This wasn't the only action that had occurred. When the Seer charged, so did Ben. He ran toward Deb, either intending to tackle her or knock her out of the way. Instead, as he pushed against her, she kept some of her balance. Instead of falling, they stumbled together across the room. They hit against the wall hard, Deb with her back but Ben with his head. They both fell to the ground. Ben lay unmoving, possibly unconscious, but Deb immediately began struggling back to her feet.
This was Terry's opportunity. Grabbing two of the gas cans, he ran for the open door. He put one down and uncapped the other. He tossed it deep into the Creature Room, his nervousness and panic clear in the throw. Then he picked up the other one with shaking hands, uncapped it, and began pouring it in the doorway. He kept taking nervous glances toward Deb, who was just now getting to her feet, and the Seer, who was now turning toward me.
"How are you alive?" roared the Seer. "What evil has brought you back?" This question may have been rhetorical, as she gave me no time to answer. She ran at me, slashing her knife.
I hadn't yet pulled my gun, but I wasn't sure I would have used it even if I had it out. If I wasn't willing to shoot her in the hospital parking lot, I didn't think I was going to be able to here. Despite how much anger I had toward her, despite how much she had screwed up our plans, I still wasn't ready to kill her. Instead I dodged her slash. However, she was hopped up on far more adrenaline than I, so her movements were quicker, her strikes faster than I had previously experienced. I raised my arm to shield myself. She cut my left shoulder - not deep, but it hurt like hell and it started to bleed. I stumbled away from her, trying to keep some distance between us.
"Stop! We are not the evil! You're fighting for the evil!" I shouted.
"Lies!" she responded. Then she slashed out. I turned my left side toward her. She cut my left arm again, this time just below the shoulder. It hurt to move the arm as I stumbled back from her, realizing this was going poorly. Had I gotten overconfident after our previous fights?
"Stop! You're making a mistake!" My stomach was suddenly cold, something churning inside it.
"There is no mistake! Your death will save the futur
e!"
As I stumbled back, I came upon a piece of the set. It was one of the foreground bushes for Big Blue Sky Valley. It was really just a piece of plywood in the shape of a cloud, only painted green. Using both arms and feeling sharp pain in my left arm as I did it, I tossed the piece at her. It struck her, but the fake bush had barely any weight. It slowed her down for just a moment while I glanced over to the Creature Room.
Terry had been pouring gasoline at the Creature Room's opening, but he was interrupted. Deb had charged him. He spun, causing her to pass him rather than knock him over, but it caused him to drop the gas can at his feet. Gasoline started flowing out around their feet. Terry pulled out one of the lighters we all carried and was trying to spark it when Deb grabbed him. They soon were locked together in a fierce melee, arms grasping for the lighter, and while doing so, stumbling all over the floor that was now being covered with gasoline. Their feet must have been fully doused with the stuff, but I had no idea if they realized it.
Despite his gawky nature and the cross fit that she probably did, Terry did have a strength advantage on Deb. Her only advantage was that she was fanatical - when it came to victory, she wanted it more. They fought, but Terry was keeping control of his arm that held the lighter. I saw that he had finally managed to get it lit, a weak flame visible even from across the room. If she had been thinking clearly, Deb should have stopped her attack. She should have realized the danger of fighting the guy holding a lighter over pooled gasoline. But instead, she kept thrashing, clawing at Terry's fingers, grabbing at his wrist. Terry at least saw the danger and made a great effort to keep his arm straight up and his grip tight. But that meant that Deb had the advantage of both her arms and he just one. This struggle had one inevitable conclusion.
The lighter fell from his hand.
I want to say there was some dramatic moment where everything slowed, where all eyes in the room watched this terrible train wreck happening. But I was getting attacked and Charlie and Ben were down. I'm not sure if it slowed for Terry and Deb. All I know is that this horrible moment was not slow and dramatic. It was quick, almost instantaneous.
John Keats 02 Paper Moon Page 24