Witpunk

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Witpunk Page 17

by Claude Lalumiere; Marty Halpern


  Mrs. Ward leaned forward and patted Louise's blue-jeaned knee. "Not nearly enough," Mrs. Ward said. "There's not nearly enough light yet. It's still black as night as far as the Fair Ones are concerned. Harry and I do what we can, but we are only two people. You'll help, won't you?"

  "Well, of course," said Louise.

  Harry shuffled up to them and put the box on the floor. He reached into the box and pulled out a light bulb.

  "My dear," Harry said, and he handed it to Louise with a courtly flourish as though presenting a rose.

  Louise was charmed. "Why thank you," said Louise. The light bulb was cold and seemed to vibrate when she held it against her cheek.

  "Please take a box with you when you go," Mrs. Ward said. "We've plenty."

  Country people, thought Louise, are so generous.

  It was already dark when Johnny took the exit to Polk Hill. He had had to stop once because love bugs had squashed up on the windshield in such numbers that he couldn't see. The Florida travel brochures were curiously silent on these little bastards, who haunted the highways in black clouds, always mating (hence, their name). The rotten insects had created an industry: love bug radiator grill guards, love bug solvent for the windshields, love bug joke bumper stickers.

  Still, Johnny loved Florida, the way only a kid from Minnesota can love it. If he never saw another snowfall, another ice-laden tree, it would be okay. Louise had felt the same way. At first they had lived in Tampa but it was too big a city so he had talked Louise into moving out to Polk Hill, which was real country, filled with cows and cattle egrets and rednecks with dogs.

  Johnny loved it, but Louise was still sort of down on the move. She missed Tampa.

  Johnny turned on Waples Drive and slowed to accommodate the much-patched asphalt. Up ahead, light blazed from every window of the Wards' house. What's the big occasion? Johnny wondered.

  Johnny drove around the curve and saw his own house, light pouring from every window. It was funny how, in the country, lights seemed brighter. He had noticed this before, but it was more pronounced on this moonless night.

  Johnny stopped the car and cut the engine.

  As he walked along the flagstone steps, he noticed how the light in the windows seemed to pulse. Odd. Looking down he saw that hundreds – thousands – of moths fluttered on the ground. Some of the insects were no bigger than a dime, others quite large with pale green or yellow wings.

  Florida did have its share of bugs.

  "I wouldn't go in there," a voice said.

  Johnny turned to see a tall man wearing a tuxedo, complete with top hat and cape, and sporting a luxuriant handlebar mustache. Next to him was a girl in a sequined bathing suit and high heels.

  The man stepped forward. "I'm afraid one of my employees was careless. Jones is a fair magician, but he's no match for any of the third-circle demons, and he was tricked, as easily as you or I might trick a child with a palmed card or a two-sided nickel. Now he has disappeared – consumed, I expect – but the damage has been done."

  The man brushed a large moth from his lapel and continued. "I'm Maxwell Kerning, the Amazing Max, and this is my assistant, Doreen. You might have seen the flyers: Amazing Max and His Traveling WonderRama. No? Well, it doesn't matter of course. What does matter is that Jones seems to have recruited your wife and your neighbor in an attempt to summon some unpleasant entities."

  "Louise isn't my wife," Johnny said. "We aren't married."

  The Amazing Max shrugged his shoulders. "I believe that your precise marital status is incidental to the larger issue – which is the approaching end of civilization."

  "I think that is too strong," Doreen said, moving to the magician's side. She had a soft lilting voice, and – Johnny noted – lovely kneecaps. "Probably only Florida would go."

  "Disney World would fall," her comrade reminded her. "I believe the destruction of Disney World would pull the plug. Certainly the whole continental nexus would be sucked into that hole. Chaos would reign."

  "That's true," Doreen said, her voice even more subdued.

  "It's been nice meeting you folks, but I gotta be going," Johnny said. It wasn't good to humor crazy people beyond a certain point. Polite but firm, that was the ticket when interacting with nut cases.

  Johnny opened the door to his house and walked into the cold light.

  Every light in the house was on, the lot of them flickering like a defective neon sign, and Louise was sitting in the brown armchair. She was wearing an overcoat, wool gloves, and earmuffs.

  Jesus, Johnny thought. It was colder than Minnesota, and the light reminded him of the curious, ambient glare that filled those northern skies right before a snowstorm. I don't care for this, Johnny thought, but even as he thought it some sly, cold hand reached in and stole the thought, scooped it up as though it were a chocolate-covered mint left unattended.

  "Hey Louise," Johnny said. "It's sure bright in here."

  "It's getting there," Louise said, standing up.

  Suddenly Johnny felt his chest being squeezed. He toppled backward and was yanked off his feet. He was dragged out of the room, and the door slammed. The light – the blessed light – was gone and he tried to free his arms and scramble to his feet, his only thought to be reunited with the fierce, cold light.

  "Better sit on him for a few minutes while his mind clears," Doreen said.

  A terrible headache set in, and Johnny crawled over to a bush and vomited.

  "He'll be all right now," he heard the magician say.

  Johnny didn't feel like he was apt to rally. He rolled over on his back. A large beetle landed on his forehead, and he brushed it off and sat up. "Jesus." He blinked at Doreen's kneecaps, found some solace there, and asked, "What happened?"

  The Amazing Max explained: "Doreen lassoed you. She's an artist with a rope, which I must say is fortunate for you. We almost lost you, you know. I am not a man who enjoys giving advice – let each man find his own path, I say – but you are out of your element here, young man, and I believe you should heed the advice of experienced elders."

  Johnny looked at Doreen, who was demurely winding her rope.

  "You saved my life," Johnny said.

  Doreen looked up and smiled. She had blond, curly hair and black eyes, goggled with eye shadow so she looked a little raccoonian – but sweet.

  "I didn't really save your life," Doreen said. "Just maybe your mind."

  "Still," Johnny insisted, "I'm beholden."

  Doreen fluttered her long eyelashes and looked away.

  "I'm Johnny Harmon," Johnny said. "And I won't ever forget it."

  The Amazing Max interrupted. "While I am delighted to hear that you will never forget your name, I believe the future in which you remember or forget anything may be brief if we do not address the immediate problem. We've got to pull the switch on all these lights before they attract the Fair Ones."

  "Fair Ones?" Johnny asked.

  "You don't want to know," the magician said. "Trust me, you don't want to meet them. They'll only have one chance to break through, so they'll wait until the Light is bright enough and then some. I think we've still got time. Where is the fuse box?"

  "In the garage," Johnny said.

  An investigation revealed the garage door to be down and electronically locked.

  The magician questioned Johnny closely, then said, "We'll have to go through the kitchen to get into the garage. Johnny, you'll have to do it. You know the layout. Do you think you can walk through it with your eyes closed?"

  "Sure," Johnny said. "The door to the garage is just to the right when you enter the back door."

  The magician leaned forward and clutched both of Johnny's shoulders. Amazing Max smelled like cigarettes and Old Spice. "Okay. Now when you get into the garage, don't open your eyes. The light is on there too, I expect. With your eyes closed, can you find the switch for the carport door?" Johnny nodded. "Good. And don't open your eyes until I've said it's okay."

  They slipped around to the back
of the house, and Johnny unlocked the back door. "Good luck," the magician said, and Johnny, his eyes shut, pushed open the door and entered. He kept his arms out in front of him, and he slid his feet forward across the linoleum. He didn't feel the cold like he thought he would, but the darkness behind his eyelids wasn't complete. He could sense the strobe light of the room fluttering on his eyelids; rainbowhued fragments drifted like ghostfish into his mind.

  There were the shelves to his right. China plates, the Abraham Lincoln coffee mug, Louise's antique glass bottle collection . . . Whoops. A ceramic jug toppled forward and shattered on the floor. It made a loud noise, a sort of whump-crash that would have pleased a child. Johnny stood still. The rest of the house was silent.

  Keep moving, he told himself. He found the door, felt along the frame until he discovered the doorknob, then turned it. The door swung open.

  Woolen fingers touched the back of his neck.

  "Ah," Johnny said. Miraculously, he did not open his eyes.

  "Hey Johnny," Louise said from behind. "I didn't know what had become of you."

  "Just going in the garage here," Johnny mumbled. "Just taking a look in the old garage."

  "Well sure," Louise said. She didn't seem intent on stopping him. She wouldn't know that his eyes were closed. Not yet.

  Johnny slid his feet across the concrete floor. A can of nails banged over. He almost fell over the extra tire, did in fact lurch forward, arms flaying the air. He regained his balance, found the opposite wall, and began moving toward the carport switch.

  Louise spoke again. "What are you doing, Johnny?"

  "Just give me a second," Johnny said. "I'll be right back. All I'm asking – "

  "Ha!" Louise shouted. She slammed into him from behind, her arms encircling his, hurling him forward. His forehead banged against the wall. But his hand found the switch, and he hit it. He heard a clunk sound as the motor engaged, then the metallic rattle and clamor of the door ascending.

  "Johnny Harmon!" Louise shouted, but he had turned to embrace her, and he held her tightly as she kicked and raged beneath him. Something exploded, followed by the tinkling sound of glass.

  "You can open your eyes now, Johnny," the magician said. "And I might add – well done!"

  Johnny opened his eyes in time to see the Amazing Max, a revolver in his hand, stride quickly into the middle of the garage, kick aside the shards of broken glass and, with a satisfied shout, slam a foot down firmly on something that screamed briefly and inhumanly.

  It had looked, this now-silenced creature, like a spider, but with the black, shiny, chitinous exoskeleton of a beetle.

  Johnny staggered to his feet and helped Louise up.

  "What was that?" Johnny asked.

  "One of the Fair One's minions. Not dangerous in themselves, but they are responsible for the light bulbs that call the Fair Ones." The Amazing Max pulled a flashlight from his pocket and turned it on. "Close the garage door again, please."

  Johnny hit the switch. The door noisily descended.

  They were in darkness now except for the beam of the flashlight.

  "I assume that is the fuse box," the magician said. The beam of light played over the gray, rectangular box.

  "Yes."

  Amazing Max strode to the box, threw the two switches and then, methodically, unscrewed the half dozen fuses and put them in his pocket. "That should do it," he said.

  They left the sealed-off garage and entered the now darkened house. The flashlight beam played over the kitchen floor, discovering fragments of the shattered jug.

  The magician's voice sounded loud in the room. "We'll want to destroy all the light bulbs and look for the queen. She'll be laying more bulbs. Actually, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if she were right – " The magician threw open the refrigerator door, stepped back, and fired into the refrigerator two blasts that mingled with another inhuman scream.

  "Done then," the magician said. "So far so good."

  "How you doing?" Johnny asked, putting an arm around Louise's waist.

  "I been better," Louise said. "I'm freezing, for one thing."

  They were following the Amazing Max from room to room as he destroyed light bulbs and the creatures within them. It was slow going in the dark, and the screams of the spider-creatures were a little unnerving.

  "I reckon you'll warm up in awhile," Johnny said.

  The magician, who overheard this remark, said, "No. I'm afraid not." He smashed another bulb, stomped another harbinger of doom.

  "What?" Louise said.

  The magician was already moving off toward the bedroom, but Louise ran after him, caught his arm, and turned him around. "What do you mean it won't wear off?"

  The magician shrugged. "Nothing to wear off, actually. It's a bit of perception shuffling that the light does. The warmer the day, the colder you'll feel. The inverse is true too, so you might consider moving north."

  The Amazing Max entered the bedroom and climbed up on the bed. "Hold the flashlight, Doreen," he said, and he began unscrewing the light fixture.

  "Well, hell," Louise said. "Goddamn hell." She began to sob.

  "It will be okay," Johnny said. "We'll keep the air on high or we can move back to Minnesota. We'll think of something."

  "Doreen," the magician was saying. "I think that's the lot of them. Fetch those light bulbs from my truck, and we'll begin setting the world right again."

  "What about the Wards?" Louise asked.

  The Amazing Max walked across the living room and waved an arm at the picture window. "It was too late for the Wards," he said. "They'd gone too far. We had to torch them. We set the incendiary bombs before coming here." Out the window Johnny could see the guttering flames and an occasional garland of sparks floating into the starless night.

  Amazing Max sighed. "I tell you, I'm ready for retirement. First Jones nearly destroys the world, then Blake disappears without a goodbye. I found this in his trailer." Amazing Max pulled a black object from his pocket and handed it to Johnny. It was a grotesque stone lizardlike carving about three inches long.

  "What's this?" Johnny asked.

  "It's one of the minions of the Immutable Abyss. De-animated now. The Fair Ones are no picnic, but it looks like Blake was in thrall to even worse news. The Immutable Abyss. Let me tell you" – the magician leaned forward – "you don't even want to think about the kind of things that dwell in the Immutable Abyss."

  Max stood up. "Well, let's get going." Amazing Max took the box of light bulbs from Doreen and the tedious task of re-bulbing began.

  Louise and Johnny drifted to a sofa.

  "I feel awful about the Wards," Louise said. "Plus feeling generally awful."

  Johnny nodded. "I guess we should look on the positive side, the end of the world being avoided, that sort of thing."

  "I guess so," Louise said.

  The magician came back into the living room and plopped into an armchair.

  "Another crisis narrowly avoided," he said. He fished in his pocket, took out the fuses. "Doreen," he said. "Would you turn the electricity back on?"

  Doreen took the fuses and left the room.

  "How was this other magician going to call up the Immutable Abyss?" Johnny asked.

  "I have no idea. I can't find him, so I can't ask him." Max shouted. "Hey Doreen! You didn't see Blake today, did you?"

  Doreen's voice came back, far away.

  "What?"

  Max shouted the question again, louder.

  "Sure," Doreen shouted back. "I told you. He's the one gave me these light bulbs."

  The sun was beginning to come up. Oak trees, cabbage palms, and gaunt pine trees were surfacing in the dishwater dawn. Smoke from the Wards' home rose crookedly into the sky.

  The magician was emptying his pockets of the last, unused bulbs. One fell, bursting on the coffee table, and a small, metallic lizard skittered over the mahogany surface, barking mournfully.

  "Holy Jesus," the magician croaked. He stood up. "Doreen!" he screa
med.

  It was too late. The hum of the refrigerator, the thin voice of a radio announcer, the labored wheeze of the air conditioner – all these announced the return of electricity to the household. And, of course, the lights, the lights went on. They snuffed out the approaching dawn. They emitted a darkness thicker than tar, deeper than black plush velvet lining the inside of a coffin.

  Johnny realized that he had never, in fact, encountered darkness. There was the darkness of a moonless night, the darkness of a windowless, midnight room, but this new darkness dwarfed them all. And already, although it could not have been anything but his imagination – many hours would pass before they came – Johnny thought he heard the first thundering footfall.

 

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