“Oh, sorry Alex. I guess I just figured Ziggy Marley the knife fetishist for the murdering type. You know, after he tried to ginsu me last night at the pool.”
“Well, that’s true. Still, they aren’t vampires, dude. We just need to figure this all out when we get there.”
They drove a while longer, silent and contemplative in the encroaching evening. A black cloud rumbled both inside and outside the vehicle, as they rolled on towards the unseen port city. Grave and committed. Wired and dead, hundreds of years before.
“Maybe garlic, or holy water.”
“Or holy garlic water.”
“Dude, that’s right. Why don’t you ever see that in the movies? It seems like holy garlic water would be the first thing any slayer would pack on their way to that bar from From Dusk Till Dawn.”
Alex turned in his seat, laughing. “That, or the twelve thousand other gadgets those assholes pulled out of fucking nowhere when the vampires attacked. Do you remember that dude’s cock-pistol thing? The metal harness, giant phallic dick pistol? What a joke! What was he, just riding around with that shit harnessed to his fun parts all day? Can you imagine the saddle sores?”
“Not to mention awkward bedroom politics when you pick a nice whore up at the tavern.” Crink smiled, leaning back.
Sheila coughed, prompting a stop to the conversation.
“Whatever happens,” Alex said, “we need to stop him from hurting any more people.”
Crink said, “That’s easy for you to say. In case you forgot, I’m still in the midst of the most epic hangover of my adult life.”
Alex caught his eye in the rear-view mirror.
“But yes. I have to agree.”
As they sped past the game reserves outside Grahamstown, Sheila said, “I’ll bet you’re happy Jules is on her way to Durban now, huh?”
Silence, and the speeding sound of cicadas whirring by along the national road. “Yeah. No, it’s better this way. I just...wish I’d had time to explain myself better,” Alex murmured
Sheila shifted up over the next rise in the road, placing her hand gently on Alex’s. “You’re still going to.”
15. A Fynbos Staging Area, Draped in Electricity
The group arrived at Alex’s Park Drive home an hour and a half later to find no one there. Clark was ignoring his phone. “So much like that little asshole to ignore his phone in an emergency...”
Cynthia was still too young to own a phone. Alex had gotten in touch with his mother while on the road, but she was still at the office.
Sheila was asleep in the back seat. She’d swopped places with Crink around Nanaga, newly weak and limp like a baby bird. She slid into the seat, tired and bleary-eyed, rocked instantly to sleep by the vibrations of the car. Outside Kinkelbos, Alex had looked back to see her thrashing slightly, her brow sweaty and eyelids flickering under a mop of curly blond hair.
Crink and Alex emerged from a Super Spar on Cape Road at around 6PM, into the flickering, energy-saver luminescence of the parking lot. Crink was keying the code off of a Vodacom airtime stub into his phone. Alex had more candy and snack food under his arm than was necessary, and a grim look on his face. The outside world was quiet, and they moved through it with the sound of tekkies and shuffling denim. This dark still life of polished Citi Golfs and crisscrossing brick top played tricks of daylight on their eyes and made the bustle of Cape Road beyond seem otherworldly—an urban punchbowl of beige sedans, discarded yellow bibs and blackcurrant tyre treads.
The car guards were all gone, and it seemed the entire world’s worth of people was left bustling through the aisles and coupon dispensers inside the shop behind them. PE went about its business inside, quietly frantic and unaware.
They circled around to where the car was parked, where, with no warning, there he was, sitting cross-legged and evil on the hood of the car.
Sheila was nowhere to be seen.
“Boys, boys. I know your friendly Spar’s unbeatable prices are hard to turn down, but could you try not to dawdle, please?”
“Daedalus.”
“Oh, how the heroes love that last-name intimidation bullshit. Maybe you’d prefer it if my name were Chuck Khan?”
“Where is she?” Alex demanded.
“Your little girlfriend isn’t dead yet, if that’s what you’re wondering. Although, she hasn’t got much longer to wait around for your asses. It’s coming for her, Alex, like it is for all of us, and it’s never been closer than it is right now.”
Alex was only aware of the air rushing around his face the next moment, his legs flexing of their own volition as he ran at the man, diving headlong into a shoulder charge towards his abdomen from the corner of the parking spot.
Chuck smiled, snapped to his right in an instant and viciously tossed Alex across the hood of the station wagon. Alex rolled noisily across the metal bonnet and flopped over the fender on the other side.
It there, inches above the pavement on the far side of that car that Alex van der Haar did it again. He looked up from where he was to see Chuck circle around the car, stop in his tracks, and smile down at him. He looked down at the ground beneath him and, in spite of himself, let out a short yelp. Alex was hovering a few inches above the bricktop on the other side of the vehicle, his arms and legs splayed out wide around him. The air froze around him, and all the blood rushed to his face, and shoulders. This could not be real, but here he was—the second time in two days. Everything felt like a dream.
He stayed there, simply not on the floor, as if something were underneath him, like a mattress or a coffee table, only there wasn’t. For an instant, the air bent and warped outwards from under his body, blue-grey, solid and blurred around edges that shouldn’t have been there. It snapped back into place, as he exhaled reflexively and hit the ground on his chest. He was, once again, a dead weight.
He coughed out the word, “Shit,” as Chuck stood there, smirking at him.
“Well, well, well, Flyboy. Isn’t that something? Probably a good thing this parking lot is so empty, huh? Might’ve ruined a few good people’s pre-church shopping, all defying gravity and whatnot.”
Alex pushed himself up from the ground, as Chuck said, “Got your sea legs there, my man?”
“Eat a dick,” Alex wheezed. He couldn’t let on, but he felt strange...different from the last time he’d flown. Less disorientated. Sharper, as if he could feel the blood flowing through his veins. Like he could feel the crackle and hiss in the air around them. His skin felt lighter, more sensitive. He had to conceal a smile that wanted to play on his lips, as he realised, all at once, that he had taken control.
Alex had just chosen to fly. He knew it—he’d consciously stopped himself from getting hurt, his mind acting faster than he realised and his body complying. He’d been in danger, and, somehow, he’d flown to protect himself. He could feel it, some switch he’d pulled deep inside, that had hung him there like a marionette. It must have come alive when he needed it most. He had no idea how to control it yet; clearly he didn’t know how or when to turn it off. But when the time came, he’d be able to use it again.
Chuck cracked a shoulder, stretched and unsheathed a knife from some unseen loop on his belt. He looked at Alex with a frown of confusion. Did he know? How could he? Alex sneered right back at him, careful not to let on what had just happened in front of his eyes. Not until he knew for sure he’d be able to do it again.
“Careful now, fly boy. I may be the most well-spoken escaped convict you’ll meet today, but I’ll still cut out your eyes.”
“Where is she?” Alex demanded.
“She’s safe,” he said, tossing the blade from his left hand to his right. “If I wanted her dead, she would be, but it’s not that Imprint bimbo’s time yet.”
Alex wrinkled his brow. “How do you know about all of this?”
“Alex, come on! I don’t want to call you slow, but I’ve seen autists skullfuck tortoises faster than you catch on, man.” They stood there, in the middle of what f
elt like the world’s longest beat. “Everything you are, I am, only more.”
“Oh, gee, thanks, that clears things up.”
“I could explain it to your confused little chickenshit friend. Give him something to think about while he stands there like an idiot.”
Alex skidded forward on a shoe, stopping himself on the ball of his foot as the giant blade extended in front of him.
“Doesn’t matter,” said Crink. “We’re all going to pretty much the same place.”
“You won’t do anything. We’re going to stop you.”
“Hmm, where have I heard that before?”
Alex circled slowly to the side, crouched and maintained a safe distance from the tip of the knife—a painful series of minute, crystalline movements.
Chuck taunted him. “This is a pretty slow play, Captain Kirk. Didn’t you ever think about how it was that I found you? You, of all the insignificant, insecure little townies in the world. It’s because we’re connected, Holmes. You and I... Opposite ends of the same baton. You, a slave to order. Light. Virginity...”
Crink laughed nervously. Chuck barely seemed to notice.
“Me, a disciple of chaos. Reared in a jail cell of my own existence. Skraal. Hungry. And, of course, there’s the matter of our powers, there, Flyboy.”
Alex cocked his head at the words.
“You think it’s a coincidence your gal pal Ruth came to such a convenient and pointed end, right when all of this was about to happen?”
Alex had never had the sound drain out of his world before, but that’s exactly what this felt like. Everything stopped, and the words from his mouth felt slow and dry, like sand, as he let them fall out and roll towards the thin, sneering man. “You. You...you did something to Ruthie?”
“It started when I spent my first summer in juvie. I was in this suburban detention facility with a bunch of murderers and rapists. For shoplifting, nogal. There must’ve been twenty, thirty of us there, sharing a five-bedroom house in Missionvale...”
Alex struggled to hear over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. He felt his eyes narrow, as though pinched by the weight of a long day. Ruth. Alex wasn’t sure if he said her name out loud or in his mind, but he lunged forward, desperate to lay hands on this monster, but slow and awkward. Uncoordinated, he was fended off, thrown under Chuck’s arm, out and away from him, like one might redirect a toddling infant.
Chuck continued, “I found myself surrounded by willing minds. Boys, men, all aching, their consciousness screaming out at night. I learned to tell what the noise in my head had always been. A wailing siren, blasting through the stratosphere. It was the nexus. Speaking to me.
“I had no choice, Alex! I had to speak from the heart. Preach to these men who had nothing but the violence and pointlessness of their own all-too-brief existence.
“It was slow, the first few times. Troubled youths falling asleep in the dorm, their heads full of insight, mulling over the things I shared. Working my advice into the cracks of their unconscious. It was automatic. Glorious and understated, marching through their dreams, down into their very hearts. The truth.
Can you imagine? It was—oh, it was spectacular. A time for renewal. A celebration.
“They didn’t feel it, you know. No one does. They’d just...they’d just fall asleep. As if it came naturally, except, well, of course I made it come. I helped. That’s all. Gave them a simple and romantic end.
“Nobody even remembered them in the mornings, man. I cured them! I was the ultimate rehabilitation. I actually did something to end this fucking nightmare of a life for them, Alex. I did what nobody else ever could. I made it right.”
This monster would kill all of them.
“What did you do with these car guards, Chuck?”
“I had a little chat with them, is all. Just a couple minutes ago, you just missed it. Shed some light on some things they’d been wondering, deep down inside. We had time to kill. Still do. Anyway, they’ll be sleeping a lot better tonight. You should be thanking me.
“I’d say it was my greatest achievement, but, well, I’d already been stalking your whole family for fucking years, hadn’t I? That was the real killer.” He laughed.
Alex stopped, his arms sagging to his sides. A drill bit chill rifled through his heart while Daedalus held court out there in the parking lot. This son of a bitch had taken one of his best friends from him. Could he have taken others? Could he have taken Frank?
“Why, Daedalus? Why not just come after me?”
He had to get his friends away from this man. What the fuck was he doing out here, swinging away? This was a time for pleading. “Daedalus, listen. Whatever this is, why ever it is you want her, it’s between you and me, all right? Leave Crink and Sheila out of this, and I’ll do whatever you want.”
Chuck smiled. “Really getting into that hero posturing, huh? It’s a good look on you. You’ve already involved them, though. Didn’t she explain this situation to you? You’re the last of your kind. You’re my last shot at this, and I’m going to make you see things my way if I have to kill everyone you love to do it. See, it’s not just enough to make you do what I want—you have to want it too. Otherwise this’ll never work, Alex. All bets are off, now, mate. Sorry.”
“Fuck you, this doesn’t involve them, Chuck. They’ve done nothing wrong—”
Chuck screamed, his face pointed towards the sky. “That’s not the point, Van der Haar!” He closed his eyes, humming softly to himself, appearing in that moment to be somewhere else completely. They didn’t dare come at him. “There are rules. I’ve fucking told you, man, don’t you listen to anything? You have to have somebody to save, or how will you ever do this right? I need to give you that or you’ll never learn—everything plays out the way it does. Whatever happens tonight,” he spoke, clearly, “is already done—and it’s your own messy fault. You know, man, I wasn’t kidding before... You really should be thanking me. I’m here to help you understand. All of you.”
“Understand what?” Alex asked, a grim expression masking his entire face.
“That, eventually,” Chuck said, smiling.“You need to stop looking for the light, and start loving the darkness.”
Alex paused, understanding. “The reality reflex.”
Chuck nodded. “It’s always darkest before the d—”
“Alex!”
Crink sprang out from behind Daedalus, with a yellow steering-wheel lock hoisted above his head. Though he brought it whistling down through the air ferociously, he’d already connected with the concrete ground before he realised Chuck had sidestepped him. Daedalus’s foot collided violently with the side of his head, yanking out a truncated thud as he half-spun and landed flat on his face. Crink was knocked out cold. As Alex rushed towards his best friend, now crumpled on the ground, Daedalus smiled, spat on the ground, and climbed into the driver’s seat of the Corsa.
“Your boyfriend’s going to live, Alex. Well. In a manner of speaking.”
“You son of a bitch.”
“Yo, I hear there’s a gig at Checkerboards tonight. Stone Cold Briefcase. Might be worth your time to come check it out.” Chuck pulled out of the empty parking lot. “See you later, hero.”
16. Blood Farming in Makana Municipality
Sheila came to in the manager’s office at the Checkerboard Night Club, a wrinkled, lamp-lit, paper-strewn room. She was tied to a chair in the corner, alone. “Is somebody there?” From behind the door on the far wall, she heard approaching footsteps, bouncing down an unseen passageway. She struggled against the cable ties on her wrists. Summoning her captor—and she had a fair idea who was—while she was incapacitated like this might not have been the smart idea.
She felt weaker than she ever had in her life.
The steps were getting closer. Hard to judge how far away, but it couldn’t be more than twenty feet. Tied up or no, she could barely lift her arms by this point. It was getting bad, her head heavy on what felt like a neck with no muscles in it. She sa
nk her chin into her chest. Her eyelids tingled and scratched like they were shag carpeting.
Her head was spinning, and she felt about ready to throw up. This was bad. Oh man. The door handle clicked. The things she did for boys. A menacing chuckle swung in from across the room, underscored by the sound of two large feet thumping in through the black rectangle of the doorway.
“Koosh. You heal fast for a deckhand with syphilis from the eighteen twenties.”
“Oh baby. That seems like a lifetime and thirty-five stitches ago.”
“Yeah, well, a stitch in scum and all that.”
Koosh smiled cruelly, limping heavily across the wooden floor to her chair, where he sank onto his haunches in front of her. “Tell me we’re never going to get away with this. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up so you could say it. Come on, it’s the best part. I just wanna hear it once in my life.”
“I’m sorry, I’m all out of fucks to give right now. Can I interest you in ‘Hey, that’s some impressive ringworm in your scalp’?”
“Cute.” He wound back his fist and hit her with the side of his hand across her temple, spinning her head away from him.“You’ve got a smart mouth for a two-hundred-year-old au pair. I couldn’t help noticing, though...” He smacked her again, this time slightly harder.“You look like you’ve lost a bit of colour in your cheeks. Not the rosy-faced little girl who stepped off the boat ready to colonise any more, are we?”
“Yeah, well, things just haven’t been the same since they cancelled Firefly, you know?’’
Koosh stood, smiled, pinched her cheeks, and moved over to the window to peer through the blinds.
“You’re looking... Ratty as always, Koosh.”
“Two hundred years, Sheila.”
“Aw, it’s so sweet you remembered my birthday.”
“It’s an age, being someone like me. Like you. Out on the periphery of the truth. Never admitting what’s really going on. The real, horrifying nothing of it all.” He walked over to her again, letting the blinds clack closed behind him. “What was it about him that made you do it?”
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