by R. W. Ridley
I turned back and watched as Allie deftly climbed up the wall and on the ceiling. “Don’t let the tasty boy go,” she whined. “We are so hungry.”
I raced down the hallway, and down the stairs as Devlin started to put Allie out her misery.
***
Lou and Devlin were waiting on horseback when I emerged from the house. The expression on my face must have told them everything they needed to know, because they didn’t ask a single question. I simply walked over to Chubby, climbed on his back, and waited in silence for Devlin to finish his business.
I was disheartened to see my backpack with my solifipod hanging on the saddle horn of my horse. It wriggled and twisted. Chubby seemed uneasy, so I snatched it up and looped my arms through the straps before I had time to think about it. If I had taken the time to think about it, I probably would have smashed it on the ground and had Chubby stomp on it.
We waited only about five minutes before Devlin exited the house with a grotesque Délon smile. He had clearly enjoyed putting Allie out of her misery. I hated him and appreciated him all at once. I guess that’s how most people feel about the devils in their lives.
He leapt on his horse’s back and gave the command to move. And we did, like a sad, sulking caravan of pre-schoolers off to see a circus we had no interest in seeing.
We passed various residents of Tullahoma as we rode through the town. Some were human, some were going through the change, and some were halfers. All of them looked at us as if we were part of a presidential procession. It was strange and unsettling.
As we entered Manchester, I noticed there was very little traffic. There were only a few cars here and there. Had this been normal times, there would have been a steady stream of cars going back and forth from Tullahoma to Manchester.
I was on the constant lookout for Wes’s van. I peeked over my shoulder so often Devlin started to get suspicious. I reined it in and kept my nervous anticipation in check as best I could.
On top of Monteagle, the temperature was cold enough that a dusting of snow stuck to the ground. The humans on horseback bundled up in two or three layers and we all pulled skullcaps over our ears. Devlin was cold, but he never covered up his shredded Délon uniform. He seemed disoriented at times, and I could swear he shrunk about an inch and a half while we were on top of the mountain.
Given the Délons’ troubles with the cold, I was surprised that they still “allowed” cold weather. After all, this was their world created by their Storyteller, shouldn’t they have control over everything, including the elements? That’s when it occurred to me. The Délons didn’t have control over their own world. They were in fact as helpless as humans were in our world. Even though they controlled their own Storyteller, they were at the mercy of fate.
I smiled as I realized this because it meant one thing. The Délons could be beat.
***
We traveled the same route we did when the Takers were the monsters of choice. As we passed South Pittsburg, I couldn’t help but think about our first encounter with the bicycle gang. Roy stayed in the shadows, while Reya and the others tried to steal our horses. They would have, too, if it hadn’t been for Ajax. He was definitely the kind of ape you wanted to have on your side.
I couldn’t believe I was thinking it, but I missed those days. There was something simple about our mission then. We knew what had to do, and we did it. Not like now.
I still wanted my home back, but defeating the Délons would not get me there. I knew that now. There was something much bigger at play that I had to figure out. Making the Délons go away would only clear the way for the next Storyteller’s monsters.
Dr. Hollis, Pepper Sand’s shrink, knew about the treatment that Stevie Dayton went through. He had called it Hyper Mental Imaging. Individuals with Down syndrome were taught to cope with their condition by visualizing. Only some of them were too good at it. Some of them learned to do more than visualize. They learned to make things happen with their minds. They learned to bring the monsters they created on paper to life to deal with the monsters in their real lives. Now, the lines were blurred.
We deserved it. Those of us who treated Stevie and others with this condition like retards, we deserved being on the business end of the abuse we dished out. I didn’t blame Stevie for where I was. I blamed myself. And nobody with half a brain would disagree with me. When you daydream and create an elaborate fantasy that positions you as the hero and the world around you in desperate need of your super heroic talents, you never imagine that the evil you are battling is really of your own creation as well. But it is. It’s your mind, your fantasy, your evil.
I looked at Lou riding ahead of me. The first time I saw her, she looked like a ratty little homeless kid. Now, she was downright pretty. I didn’t want to think of her that way, but I couldn’t help myself.
What had she done to deserve this nightmare? I knew why Gordy was here. He was a bigger jerk than me, but Lou didn’t strike me as the type to pick on the less fortunate. On the contrary, she seemed like the type who would give one of her kidneys to the less fortunate. Yet here she was, riding alongside me, trying to survive this hell. Why?
I tapped Chubby in the ribs with my heels and rode alongside her. “We haven’t had much time to talk,” I said.
She smiled. “I guess we’ve been kind of busy.”
Riding next to her, I found myself thinking she wasn’t just pretty. She was beautiful. What the hell was happening to me? Lou was a warrior. I couldn’t think of her that way. “Funny, now that we have the time, I don’t know what to talk about?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I know what you mean. There’s not much use for small talk in this world. Seems kind of silly and pointless.”
“That’s what small talk is,” I said. “But I know what you mean.”
We rode in uncomfortable silence for a few excruciating moments. She cleared her throat and spoke up. “I heard about your parents... What you saw, I mean.”
“Yeah,” I replied. I found myself hoping against hope that we could find a way to stick to small talk.
“They won’t remember it, you know.”
I looked at her and tried to decide if that mattered.
“It’s like being born. Nobody remembers being born.”
“I guess so,” I said. “But...” I didn’t want to have this conversation, but I couldn’t help it. My mouth shot off before my mind had time to shut it down. “I saw my Mom’s face... She was in pain.”
I saw a thousand lies run through Lou’s head. She wanted to tell me that my Mom wasn’t in pain. She wanted to tell me that everything was going to be all right. She wanted to tell me that I would get over what I saw happening to my parents, but thankfully she didn’t. I would have lost all respect for her if she had. She leaned in and whispered, “Use it.”
“What?”
She looked to see how far ahead Devlin was. He was out of earshot. “Make them pay, Oz. Make those purple rats eat dirt and die.”
I smiled. That was the Lou I knew. “Yeah, I’m working on it.”
“If we find their Source before they do, this whole thing is over.”
I shook my head. “We’ve got to be smart about this. Look where killing the Taker Queen got us.”
“Nothing could be worse than this,” she said.
“We don’t know that.”
“You don’t know, Oz. You haven’t seen the things I’ve seen. You think what’s happening to your parents is bad. It’s nothing compared to 90% of the stuff I’ve seen Roy and Reya do. If they find the Source before us, it’s only going to get worse.”
I looked over my shoulder. “Well, whatever we do, we’re going to need more than me, you, and Gordy.”
Lou looked in the direction I was looking. “They’re about two miles behind us.”
“Who?” I asked.
“The ‘more’ you’re talking about. Wes, Tyrone, Valerie... probably some others I couldn’t see.” She smiled
“How did...”
I motioned toward Devlin. “Does he know?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. If it doesn’t involve food, Devlin doesn’t pay attention.”
I laughed. “Some things never change.”
Lou laughed with me.
Devlin turned to see what was so funny. “Stop your cackling,” he screeched. He turned back around.
Lou and I stifled our laughs. We both found it strange that we could find something to laugh at, but we welcomed it nonetheless.
Gordy awkwardly trotted up next to us. “What gives with you two?”
We didn’t answer.
“How long are we going to ride? My back is killing me. My ribs are sore. My ass feels like someone took a belt to it, and my thighs...”
“All right,” I said. “We get the point, Gordy.”
“Yeah, well, planes work you know. We could’ve flown to Délon City. That would have been nice. You’re the king. I bet they would have let us sit in first class.”
“We’re riding horses. Deal with it,” I said.
“Can’t we at least take a break or something? It’s going to be dark soon.” As irritating as he was, he was right. It probably was time to stop.
“Devlin,” I shouted. “I think the horses need to rest!”
He didn’t answer.
“Devlin, we should stop!”
Still no answer.
“Devlin...”
“The horses are fine,” he growled. “Shut up and ride.”
I gave Chubby a kick and rode up beside Devlin. “We’re stopping.”
“I said the horses are fine...”
“Well, we’re not, and I say we’re stopping.”
His dead eyes narrowed, and he grabbed me by the collar. “I’m growing exceedingly tired of you, human.”
It was my first real look at him since we passed over the mountain. He wasn’t the same. There was a weakness to him that I hadn’t seen before. He was more tired than any of us. He just didn’t know how to deal with it.
“You don’t like the cold, do you?” I said.
His grip loosened. His expression turned from anger to confusion. “Who is the man in the white coat?”
Now I was confused. “What?
“The white coat. Who is he, and why is he looking at me?” Devlin nodded toward the exit ahead. There, sitting in a thick leather chair, sat a man in a white coat busily jotting down notes on a pad of paper.
“What the...” I said.
TEN
“What are you doing here?” I ask the man in the
white coat.
“I’m not,” he smiles. “You’re in my office.”
I look around. The horses are gone. Lou is gone. Gordy and
Devlin are gone. I am in a room lying on a couch. A clinical air swirls around me. My hands. They are not my hands “What are you doing?” I ask. “I have to go back.”
“Oz,” the man says. “This isn’t healthy. There’s no therapeutic benefit to these hypnosis sessions. You’re simply reliving events that never happened. Events you’ve fabricated in your mind.”
I’m angry. “Send me back.”
He narrows his eyes. “In my opinion it’s doing more harm than good.”
I stand. Everything inside of me wants to take a swing at him, but I know I can’t. He’ll never send me back if I do. I breathe deeply. “Look, I know it’s not real, but...” I stop to see if he’s buying it. “But I have to see this thing through.”
“I’m sorry.” He says. “I’m afraid I’ve already let it go too far.” His eye twitches. He stands and turns to leave. He stops. Without turning he says, “One thing.”
“What?”
“The Source. What is it?”
“What?” I find this to be an odd question. Why does he care if it’s just fantasy.
“The Délon Source. You said the way to defeat the Délons was to find their Source before they did. Obviously you found it. I mean suppose your story isn’t fantasy. Suppose everything you’ve said while you’ve been under is true. The simple fact that the world is now Délon free means you found the Source. What is it?” He finally turns to me.
“What difference does it make? You don’t believe any of it?”
“True,” he says sitting back down. “But I do believe the Délons’ Source, real or imagined, is the source for your psychosis. Perhaps if you tell me what it was, we can find a more effective treatment for you.”
I cock my head to the side and snicker. “You want to know, you’re going to have to put me back under.”
He laces his fingers together over his belly and sighs. A sound like a metronome suddenly becomes pronounced in the room. The man in the white coat seems to be thinking in time to the rhythmic ticking. He purses his lips and twiddles his fingers.
“Perhaps it does have therapeutic value,” he says. “Lie back down.”
I comply.
ELEVEN
We stopped at an empty house on I-75, just outside of Chattanooga. The house wasn’t just empty. It was abandoned. Once the owners had become Délons, they couldn’t bear the thought of living among humans so they made their way south to Délon City.
They left without a care for their former lives. Knowing Délons the way I did at that point, it shouldn’t have surprised me, but I couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could leave behind old family photos, videos of landmark events in their lives, heirlooms that they probably fought other family members over. It was sickening how disposable their past became to them.
I found a corner in the living room where I could sit and veg out. I was tired. A spent solifipod sat in the opposite corner of the room. Its shunter, having completed its job of turning a human to a Délon, was a dried up carcass curled up inside.
My mind shifted back to Gordy’s house. His solifipod was dead. The frigid temperatures of the freezer had killed it. Not just killed it, but cut it off undetected from the Délon collective. Under normal conditions they would have known. They would have felt it, and Gordy would have been skinner food. If that was true, I was beginning to understand General Roy’s urgency in finding the Source. They wanted it before the cold weather set in. If the temperatures dropped below freezing in Délon City, all the Délons would be cut off from each other. They would be alone and vulnerable, easy to defeat. If they had their Source, they may be able to prevent the temperature from dropping.
Don’t Trust G... That’s what Mrs. Dayton had written. Don’t trust Gordy. Why would he have shown me a way to defeat the Délons if he wasn’t to be trusted? I had to consider the possibility that I was being set up. That Gordy was purposely leading me down a stray path. To what end, I didn’t know, but I had to at least consider the possibility.
A family photo hanging crooked on the wall made me think of my parents. The last time I saw them, shunters were attached to their faces sucking their humanity out. I was instantly struck by feelings of guilt for leaving them behind, for not trying to do more. A warrior would have helped them. A warrior would have died for them.
“You will,” a voice said.
I stood. Where had the voice come from? The room spun, and I was suddenly in the warehouse again where I had killed Lou and watched a strange half-crab half-man creature kill Gordy.
“Who said that? Where am I?” The room tilted and vibrated. It was as if it was having trouble sustaining itself. It reminded me of when Délons took on their human appearance. Their faces twitched and bulged. They had trouble hiding their true selves. The same thing was happening with this time jump. It was having trouble existing because it was existing at the wrong time.
The half-crab half-man creature walked out of the darkness on its four spiked legs, its upside down face cocked to the right. It wore a chain around its neck. A slimy tongue dangled from the end of the chain. A souvenir or snack for later, although I couldn’t image how it ate with it
s mouth sewn shut.
It spoke without moving its lips. “They call me Canter.” I readied myself for an attack by the ugly bucket of crust. It was more than twice my size, so I couldn’t put up much of a fight against it without a weapon, but I readied myself nonetheless.
“What do you want with me?” I said
“I want you dead.”
I backed away.
“But not until you’ve completed your job.”
“Job?”
“Getting rid of those ugly Délons. They are so abhorrent.
Don’t you think?” It crab-walked to the left.
“You want the Délons dead?”
“Of course,” it said. “Why wouldn’t I? Their tongues taste
awful, and they’re hoarding all the humans for themselves.” “But I’m the wrong warrior...”
The crab thing laughed. “It’s so cute that you call yourself
that. Warrior? How many barely teenage warriors do you know? You’re not a warrior. You only stopped wetting your bed a few years ago.”
“Eight,” I shouted.
“It doesn’t make a difference. The other so-called warrior, the one created to kill the Délons, has been captured.”
A loud banging came from the other end of the warehouse.
“Here already?” Canter turned and backed away on his spiked crab legs. “No time to talk. We’ve got to kill your friends.”
I looked down and I was holding my sword, J.J. Had I always been holding it? Where did it come from? “What’s going on?”
“Boy, you really are dense aren’t you? We’re going to kill your friends. I’ll take the fat, spongy haired kid. You get the girl.”
Gordy and Lou walked out of the shadows and started to approach.
“What? Why?”
“Well,” Canter groaned. “We’re killing the fat kid because he annoys me, and Lou... well, we’re killing her because she’s a girl.”
With that the room shuddered violently and, with no sound at all, the walls of the warehouse exploded. I was back in the house in Chattanooga sitting in the dark quiet corner of the room I had chosen for its solitude. Clearly, solitude wasn’t to be had in this world.