by J. Naomi Ay
"Ach, Pym, the game began millenniums ago. 'Tis only this round, which shall commence anon."
"Of course, Sir. I am always ready to assist."
"Indeed, Pym. Ach, now, there comes my wife."
"Where have you been?" Katie called. "I've been searching all over for you. I bought you some new neckties, and some candy for Sara and the boys."
"Why would I ever need a necktie again in this life?" Senya rose from the bench and took Katie's arm, as well as her three shopping bags filled with useless things.
"I don't know," Katie replied. "But, I used to love it when you wore Armani. Let's go have a bite to eat and then, I'm going to buy you some new dress shirts."
Pym watched them walk away, her hearts now beating as they should, her mind racing with plans how to kill Katie Golden, for wasn't that the task she had been assigned?
Chapter 14
Lester Nussbaum couldn't get comfortable in the bed. The mattress was old and lacked support for his back. The bed sagged on both of the sides and smelled vaguely of something foul. Besides that, Jerry's cousin, Michael snored like the dickens.
"Hey, Jer?" Les called softly to the couch where Jerry lay sprawled out beneath a blanket. Michael had claimed the other bed, saying something about age before beauty, or some such stupid thing. Jerry had agreed to it, rather than start a fight. "Jer? I'm going to get up and walk around. I can't sleep, and I'm getting kind of hungry."
"Ok." Jerry's voice was muffled, due to his face being covered with a pillow. "If you aren't coming back, can I take your bed?"
"Sure, unless you want to come with me? I wouldn’t mind the company. We can have some fun. Maybe we'll find a couple of young ladies to pick up."
Les sat up on the edge of the bed and pulled on his pants. He slipped on his socks and bent over to tie his shoes. As he did, the mattress shifted, causing Les to abruptly fall to the floor. The resulting thump woke up Michael from the dead.
"How long did I sleep?" Michael snorted and reached for his glasses. "I feel great. It was a terrific night. How about you?"
Jerry glanced at his watch and reported that forty-eight minutes had passed since they had turned off the lights and wished each other a good sleep. After thirty-seven hours of traveling, two aspirins and several drinks, Jerry was feeling seriously fatigued, but otherwise okay.
However, this room was positively claustrophobic. There was also an odd smell which Jerry couldn’t identify although it smelled vaguely like decaying Cascadian slog. Travelers from the other galaxy tended to wear it around their necks as slog was considered a good luck charm when voyaging across the stars. Supposedly, it would also protect one's ship from errant gamma rays or the ravaging effects of intergalactic mites upon one's skin. It was either that or there was a wire burning within the hotel's interior walls. Even during the brief few minutes he had dozed, Jerry had still smelled that toxic odor in his dreams.
"Maybe, I will come," Jerry mumbled, sitting up. His head spun and that odd ambient ringing noise reappeared. "I really need some hot coffee. I'll feel better if I walk around a bit." Then, Jerry stumbled to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. Although his eyes were red and tired and his vision too blurry to see, somehow Jerry got himself dressed in his old blue jeans and a flannel shirt.
"Wait, I'll come along, too," Michael cried in a surprisingly cheery voice which made Jerry want to choke him mercilessly. "A cup of coffee will hit the spot."
"Not if I hit the spot first," Jerry replied while dreaming of pounding Michael on the head. This prompted Michael to laugh in that annoying way he always had which Jerry had hated since time immortal began. Actually, now that they had shared company for about a day, Jerry was remembering all the things about Michael that he despised.
"Remember, when we used to have Seder at Grandpa Lou's?" Michael chortled as they left the hotel to stroll out into the shopping arcade. "Jerry had to read the four questions until he was thirty-four. Right, Cuz? You were still the youngest at the table."
"Heh, heh," Lester laughed, and then shrugged apologetically at Jerry. "I understand, Jer," he whispered loudly. "I had a cousin Michael, too."
The men found a tiny bistro table at a coffee shop with a lovely view of the milling hordes in the spacebase's terminal. Lester tried to summon the waitress, who ignored every wave of his hand. This forced the men to help themselves from the self-service machine.
At least the coffee was hot, Jerry considered, as he let the scalding black liquid sear his throat. If he was having a stroke, he'd have been seriously paralyzed by now. Maybe it was just an odd form of Space Sickness. Actually, between the coffee and the air conditioning, Jerry thought he was beginning to feel slightly better.
"Hey, look at that dish," Lester whistled, his mouth full of cream as he pointed across the mall at the pottery store. Jerry turned in the direction of Lester's thumb to discover, the woman of his dreams standing there.
Undoubtedly, it was her, although her back was to the men and her curly, blonde hair was covered by a floral, silk scarf. Jerry immediately recognized her stance, the set of her shoulders and the curve of her butt. After all, he had been imagining all that and more in the back of his mind for more than half a century.
"Do I know her?" Michael wondered, adjusting the glasses on his nose. "I feel like I should. I feel like I did. Whoa, this is totally déja vu."
"Hubba hubba. That’s a fine looking lady," Lester continued. "And, that's a lovely pair of shoes she's got on. Although, those three-inch cone heeled pumps may hurt her arches on this kind of floor."
"That's Katie!" Jerry snapped, setting down his cup. In fact, he nearly slammed it on the table as he jumped to his feet.
"Katie who?" Lester asked.
"Katie, Katie," Michael tested the name. "Now, where do I know a Katie from?"
"Katie, the Empress!"
"Oh, that one," Michael cried. "The one you've been in love with all these years. The one that you foolishly let get away?"
"I've got dibs!" Lester declared and dashed for the door while Jerry leapt across the table for Lester's arm.
"No, she's mine," Michael insisted. "I swear, I remember being with her somewhere in space." While Les and Jerry struggled, he bolted away. Jerry dropped Les and went after Michael instead.
Unaware of the fight across the hall, Katie entered the pottery shop. Her thoughts were on acquiring an interesting vase, or a decorative hand-thrown planter for her deck in Takira-hahr. In fact, maybe she would get both, as well as a gift for Luci. A little pot with a tiny rose bush would be really nice. It would brighten up Luci's room in the sanitarium. She would get one for Shelly, too. A blue one would look lovely on her office desk.
Katie mentally went through her gift list, which was woefully small for the Empress of All Rehnor. Just because she was a queen didn't mean she had very many friends. Maybe, she would send something to Jerry and Janet, even though she hadn't seen either of them for several years. She should also give something to Thad and Gina now that they both were home and in recovery. Katie picked out identical glazed clay pots and ordered them sent.
As Katie departed the pottery store en route to the art gallery, the three men were still pushing each other around.
"I've got to talk to her," Michael insisted, pulling Lester by his few remaining hairs.
"Me, first." Jerry grabbed at Michael's waist.
"Let me go," Lester wailed. "I love her. I have no clue who she is, but I've loved her since the day I was born."
"You're older than she is, Les," Jerry snapped, now wiping at his lip, which had somehow connected with Michael's shoulder.
"I need to speak to her, too," Michael protested, examining his knee. It was scraped and bleeding a tiny bit from when it had hit the floor.
"Give me back my hair, Michael. I don't have a whole lot left."
"Guys! Guys! Guys!" Jerry screamed. "Just knock this off! You're out of control."
It was then that Jerry saw Katie again, leaving the art gall
ery for the gun and tobacco shop. Ditching the other men, he raced across the hall. Lester and Michael followed, which lead them all into the dark and pungent place, where firearms of every sort were displayed across the walls. The counters and glass cabinets were filled with more, as well as boxes of cigars and tobacco from throughout the galaxy. A tiny wizened old man, who Jerry guessed hailed from Lumineria VI, was sitting behind the counter smoking a pipe.
"Can I help you?" the old guy cackled, his yellow teeth even uglier than his face.
"A woman," Jerry stuttered. "There was a woman who just came in here."
"In the back." The old guy pointed. "We've got lots of them."
"Let's go," Lester cried, exuberantly.
"Hold on," Jerry cautioned. "I’m not so sure."
"It looks safe to me," Michael insisted, already disappearing behind the beaded curtain. "Wow! They do have lots of women in here."
The smoke filled room was crowded with all sorts of creatures playing cards, roulette, and rolling dice. Although Jerry scanned each table, he didn't see Katie anywhere. Now, he wondered if she had never been there at all.
On the left side of the cardroom, there was a stage of sorts where a band played ancient ragtime tunes. To the right was a bar where a Talasian served up mixed drinks, next to an Altarian who was barbecuing meat.
"Let's go," Jerry called to his companions. "She's not here. Let's go back to the mall."
"I want to play cards," Les decided, sitting down at a table. "How much does it cost to buy in?"
"Too much for you," the dealer replied, tossing out cards while the players at the table anteed up.
"No," Jerry insisted, pulling at his buddy's arm. "Trust me, you don't want to get started with this."
"Come on, Jerry, you're no fun." Michael sat down to play. "It'll help us pass the time during the storm."
"You guys don’t understand," Jerry cried. "I've spent a lot more time out in space than you. Look at what they are putting on the table. It's not coins or any money. "
"I don't get it." Michael's brow furrowed as he watched the kitty grow. Soon, the table was piled high with fingers, toes and ears, a nose, an ankle, and a liver.
"I raise you an eyeball," A creature called, slapping one down in the center of the pot. It was blue and blinked at Les who bolted from his chair.
"If you want to play for coins, Human," the dealer remarked. "You must go downstairs." She pointed at another door with one of the twelve fingers on her hand. Jerry didn't wait to see who won the pot which included a large part of someone's head, but hurried after Michael and Les as they went below.
The staircase was old and made of metal. It creaked with every step, and somewhere high above them water dripped. Pipes climbed the metal walls on either side, and strange pinging noises echoed from within. Periodically, an eerie howl assaulted their ears. Steam drifted upward in ghostly clouds. It soaked Jerry's skin and made him sweat. His flannel shirt clung to his body, and his trousers began to itch.
"I hope it's not too much further," Les declared, wiping sweat from his eyes and his brow. It was getting hotter with each step and he really needed to shower off.
"Are you sure we're going the right way?" Michael asked.
"This is the only way to go," Jerry said, as he could no longer see the top of the stair. "I think our only choice is down, which makes me think we aren't where we think we are."
"I don't know about you," Lester mumbled. "I don't want to play cards with that gang. I think I'd rather go back to our hotel."
"Too late for that," Michael remarked as they had reached the bottom floor. It was made of cement and covered with grime and dirt. Only a few steps from where they stood, a poker table was set with cards and chips, as well as drinks and bowls of pretzels and salty snacks.
A man was already seated at the table. His hands were crossed before the cards. Two bright red Firestones rings flashed from the fingers of his right hand, but his face and hair were hidden by his heavy, black cloak. Despite this, Jerry immediately knew who he was.
"Uh oh," he mumbled. "What are you doing here?"
"Dealing a hand," the Emperor replied in his deep and lyrical voice.
"Who is it?" Lester asked, nudging Jerry. "Do you know this guy?"
"Mhm," Jerry muttered, not moving his lips.
"Is it who I think it is?" Michael inquired, his own voice going a bit too high.
"Yep," Jerry sighed. "What do you want…Ron? I'm sure you're not here to play a game of poker."
"How are you so certain, Jerry?" He asked, drawing a cigarette to his mouth. The three men watched it light and then, the smoke drift into the air. "On occasion, I enjoy a little game. Here, I have set the table for you."
“What are we betting?” Lester asked. “I hope not any body parts that I may need.”
“Only two,” the Emperor replied. “I shall collect just your heart and soul. Where I shall put them shall depend on if you win. Now sit down!” He waved his hand and raised his voice. The men immediately ran to the table and took a chair.
"Why?” Jerry demanded, reminding himself he had argued with Ron before. Ron wouldn't kill him. At least, Jerry didn't think so. The guy was just a guy although weird and kind of paranormal. Frankly, he was probably insane. “Is this because of Katie? What difference if I loved her? I never acted on it. She's been faithful to you, and I've been faithful to Janet."
The Emperor chuckled again and took a drag on his cigarette.
"If I meant to kill you, Jerry, you would already be dead. Perhaps, you are. Have you considered that? What is reality beyond impulses in your brain? If your brain has ceased, did your reality go away?"
"I don't know what the hell he's talking about," Lester muttered.
"Neither do I," Michael agreed.
"Let's play the game and get this done," Jerry prompted defiantly.
“You are yet missing a few players from your table," the Emperor replied, rising to his feet, whereupon he disappeared into the shadows of the pipes. Only the scent of cigarette smoke lingered to confirm that he was ever there.
"Hello?" Woofbert Wangdog called. "Is someone here?"
Seven stories above, Katie emerged from the pottery store, having ordered more clay pots than she could count. She found her husband waiting at a bistro table at the coffee shop across the hall. He had already ordered her a latte and a whole wheat raisin roll.
"What did you do while I was shopping?" she asked, breaking the roll into halves and handing him one.
"Nothing of interest," he replied. "I have merely been waiting for a game that is about to start. I think it shall be entertaining. Would you care to play?"
“I don’t know,” Katie replied. “What’s it called?”
“Space Chase.”
Chapter 15
After Thad and Gina left the Space Sailor's Bar, they headed back to their hotel room to sleep it off. Thad had a headache and Gina's stomach was on edge, about to evacuate everything she had imbibed.
"Gina, I need an ibuprofen," Thad had moaned. "Any chance you've got some in your purse?"
"No!" Gina snapped, sticking her head in the loo. She felt as if a stake had been nailed into her skull, and someone was still pounding it with a hammer. Thad's whining only served to make her seriously mad. "Why didn't you pack some in your luggage, you fucking idiot?"
Sheepishly, Thad recalled that he had been in a hurry to escape.
"I was afraid Ron was coming to kill me just like he did to Berk. I ran out of there forgetting just about everything. Any chance I can borrow your toothbrush when you're done?"
"Well, that was brilliant," Gina muttered, standing up and clutching the sink. She swiped her mouth with a thin white hotel towel. "If he's going to kill you, I wish he'd just do it right now. I'm sick, and looking at you is making me worse."
Thad apologized, although he wasn't sure what he had done, but then, he was never certain what exactly had ruined their marriage. It could have been her drinking or his, her screw
ups or his mistakes, her cheating or his infidelities.
Rather than analyze much more, Thad stumbled back to bed where he laid down and wearily closed his bloodshot eyes. His head swirled like the dust storm outside, his brain pounding like the rocks, which hit the windows threatening to crash through at any moment.
Gina cleaned herself up as best as she could, washing her face and brushing her teeth. There was no way in hell, or anywhere else that she'd let Thad use the brush when she was done. In fact, Gina couldn't imagine what had gotten into her before. Why in heaven's name would she have bunked up with Thad? She hated him with a passion, and the sex wasn't even very good. On top of that, his body odor was making her nauseous.
However, at this moment, Gina was sincerely in a bind. The hotel was completely booked without a single free bed. She had no choice but to share if she wanted any rest at all, so she wobbled out of the bathroom and collapsed on the messed up sheets.
Gina's stomach was still lurching, although there was nothing more for her to puke, so she tried to take deep breaths and clear her mind. As soon as she closed her eyes, her thoughts began to swirl, like the churning clouds outside, except Gina's were consumed with homicidal plots.
"I think we should go get some pills," Thad decided, when twenty minutes had passed, and his head still throbbed. "I also need a toothbrush and some paste. I wouldn't mind some peppermint gum, and maybe a bag of chips or two. I think I saw a Kwikie Mart just down the mall."
Although, Gina didn't really want to move, the idea of chips appealed to her. Usually after a binge, she craved something salty like tomato juice with a splash of lime, sauerkraut, or better yet, Frito-Lay. Somehow, the sodium helped to set her right. At least, that's what she told herself as she gorged on them.
"Come on, Gina." Thad slowly rose to his feet. He steadied his head with his hands and tried to finger comb his hair. Then, he made certain he was buttoned and tucked, before heading across the room.
Thad grabbed Gina's purse and went out the hotel room's door while Gina forced her legs to meet the floor. She stumbled to the hall, snatching her purse away from Thad before he had the opportunity to look inside, or, so she thought.