Keepers

by Gary A Braunbeck

  “I see.” I reached out and took the comic book, rolling it up and slipping it into my jacket pocket. “Then we should go home and read it together.”

  He shook his head. “The animals need me.”

  “What animals?”

  He stopped his work and stared at me. “Don’t you know what this place is, UncGil?”

  The pain was starting to make me dizzy. “No, Carson, I don’t. So why don’t you tell me all about it on the way home?”

  “I’m not leaving!” he shouted, throwing a wad of mud at the far wall. “I’m not leaving and you can’t make me!”

  “Don’t shout at me, Carson.”

  “You try an’ make me go an’ I’ll … eyes on my face. I’ll … I’ll call for ’em.”

  My stomach tightened. “Call for who? Long-Lost? He doesn’t live in this world, Carson. He lives on the other side of the Great Scrim—remember from the first couple of issues?”

  He shook his head again, starting to cry. “Nuh-uh, not Long-Lost.”

  “Then who?”

  “The Keepers. They know you’re here.”

  Listen to the cold silence in the center of my soul as he said this.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Carson.”

  “Yes, you do.” He pointed at my pocket. “Long-Lost said that you don’t remember like you’re supposed to. That’s why he wants to talk to you.”

  I took several deep breaths, forcing the pain away—or at least forcing myself to ignore it as much as possible—and pushed off of the stall door. “I’m not talking to anyone except you tonight, Carson.” I started toward the barn door. “Now come on! I’m hurt and sore and tired and hungry and I’ve been worried sick about you and there’s stuff going on I don’t understand and I want you to be somewhere safe, do you understand?”

  “But I am safe.”

  I turned around and kicked open the door with my uninjured leg.

  “This is the Magic Zoo, UncGil. They’d never hurt me.”

  I couldn’t move.

  I couldn’t speak.

  I dropped the flashlight and staggered backward.

  Standing in the doorway, on its hind legs, was a massive brown Kodiak bear. It stood well over eight feet high. Its body was trembling and it was salivating, making a noise somewhere between a bawl and a growl. It threw back its head, then tilted it from left to right. Bones cracked, then it began to hum, all the while reaching out toward me with black claws that were easily five inches long.

  It stopped moving, huffed, then trained its deepred eyes on my face.

  A rough growling noise came from behind it, and a moment later the two black mastiffs emerged, one on each side of the bear. Their red eyes burned, if anything, even brighter than before.

  “They won’t hurt you, UncGil, I promise. You just gotta come back inside and close the door.”

  I wasn’t about to move any closer to that door.

  “You had the rumbling room dream again, didn’t you, UncGil?”

  I turned toward my nephew. “How could you know that?”

  “‘Cause it’s still following you.” He stared at me for a second. “Long-Lost showed me in the comic. But I can still see it around you.”

  I started moving backward.

  Slowly.

  The bear and the dogs continued staring at me.

  When I was a few more feet away, the bear looked down at one of the dogs. The mastiff gave a quick nod of its head, and the bear reached out, gripped the door, and pushed it closed.

  At the last moment, before the barn door was fully shut, the bear raised its other paw and waved at me.

  “Here you go, UncGil,” sad Carson from behind me. He stood there holding a beat-up wooden stool. “You gotta sit down and talk to Long-Lost.”

  He set down the stool, then waited for me to move.

  “You’re talking a lot better than you have been,” I said to him.

  “Uh-huh, I know. Long-Lost, he says it’s because I’m one of the ‘special ones.’ Because I don’t have to be helped by the Keepers, I’m getting there faster.”

  “Getting where?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know yet.” Then he smiled the smile of the Carson I’d always known and loved more than anything in the world, came over, and wrapped his arms around me. “I love you so much, UncGil.”

  I put my arm around him. “I love you, too, buddy.”

  “That’s good. Hey—do you like swans?”

  It was one of those non sequitur subject shifts that had always been a staple of conversations with him.

  “I, uh … I don’t know, Carson. I never thought about it.”

  “Swans are pretty.”

  “Yes … yes, they are.”

  “Yeah.” He let go of me and started walking back toward his art project. “You should sit down and rest, UncGil. See what Long-Lost has to say.”

  I sat down, wincing from the pain in my hip, arm, and shoulder. Reaching into my pocket, I removed and unrolled the new issue of Modoc: Land of the Abandoned Beast.

  Before I even pulled the cover back, I felt something brush against my leg and looked down to see Carson’s missing cat, Butterball, rubbing against me and purring.

  (Butterball went to live at the Magic Zoo…)

  I reached down to pet him and he, as always, rolled over onto his back and offered his tremendous belly. I rubbed it, and Butterball’s purring grew louder, deeper, more contented.

  Then, as usual, he fell asleep like that; on his back, legs splayed in every direction, mouth open. He looked like the cat equivalent of the town drunk passed out in the gutter.

  I looked toward the barn door, heard the bear huff again, then unrolled the comic and turned to the first page.

  There was an illustration of Long-Lost, this one much more detailed than the other. He was staring directly outward, and the dialogue bubble above his head read:

  HELLO, GIL. NICE TO FINALLY TALK TO YOU.

  “This isn’t possible,” I whispered to myself. I turned the page.

  YES, GILBERT JAMES STEWART, IT IS POSSIBLE.

  I gritted my teeth. “What do you want?”

  THE SAME THING THAT PEST IN THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD WANTS, GIL. I WANT YOU TO REMEMBER.

  “Remember what?”

  THAT WOULD BE TELLING.

  “Then at least explain what the fuck you’re supposed to be.”

  TSK-TSK—SUCH LANGUAGE. YOU SHOULD BE SETTING AN EXAMPLE FOR YOUR NEPHEW. BY THE WAY, HE HAS NO IDEA HOW SPECIAL HE REALLY IS. NEITHER DO YOU.

  I closed my eyes, squeezing the lids so tight I began to see stars. The stars exploded into faces; Beth, her aunt Mabel, an old man whose face I recognized but whose name wouldn’t come to me … something with a “W,” wasn’t it …?

  I felt a small jolt surge through my body. I started, shuddering, nearly dropping the comic.

  WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN GOOD, GIL, DROPPING THIS. THE FLOOR’S GOT OLD SHIT AND PISS BURIED UNDER THE HAY. YOU SHOULD REMEMBER TO WIPE OFF YOUR SHOES BEFORE YOU GO INTO YOUR HOUSE.

  “Am I going to see my house again?”

  OF COURSE YOU ARE. AND I DON’T WANT YOU TO WORRY. THE KEEPERS HAVEN’T GONE THERE. YET.

  Something hitched in my throat, and for some reason I began crying. “What’s happening? And why … ?”

  SHHH … THERE-THERE, MY FRIEND. NO NEED TO GET UPSET. I HAVE NO INTENTION OF HURTING YOU. BUT YOU’VE GOT TO REMEMBER ON YOUR OWN OR … OR IT IS GOING TO HURT, AND I WON’T BE ABLE TO HELP YOU. I HAVEN’T GOTTEN THROUGH THE GREAT SCRIM YET.

  I wiped my eyes and pulled in a hard, snot-filled breath. “I don’t understand …”

  The next panel showed Long-Lost rolling his eyes in exasperation.

  OKAY … YOU GET SOME OF IT, BUT NOT ALL. NOT EVEN CLOSE TO ALL—SO DON’T GO THINKING THAT YOU’RE GOING TO BE A STEP AHEAD OF THINGS, BECAUSE THERE’S NO WAY, UNDERSTAND?

  I said nothing, only nodded my head and moved to the next panel.

  WHEN THIS PLANET AWOKE TO SING I
TS FIRST SONG, THERE WAS ONLY ONE SPECIES OF ANIMAL LIVING ON ITS SURFACE. THIS CREATURE BREATHED AND DREAMED JUST AS YOU DO TODAY. BUT IT WAS LONELY. HERE WAS THIS MAGNIFICENT EARTH, FILLED WITH BEAUTY, AND IT HAD NO ONE AND NOTHING WITH WHICH TO SHARE IT.

  THIS FIRST ANIMAL TOOK A DEEP BREATH AND BEGAN TO SWELL IN SIZE, REARRANGING ITSELF FROM WITHIN, THEN SPLITTING INTO TWO IDENTICAL HALVES. THE HALVES MATED, CREATING A THIRD, A HYBRID OF THEMSELVES WHICH IN TURN MATED WITH THEM, PRODUCING OTHER HYBRIDS. THEY CONTINUED TO MATE AND PRODUCE, AS DID THE PROGENIES, GIVING BIRTH TO EVERYTHING FROM THE MANTICORA AND SPHINX DOWN TO THE ANTS AND MAGGOTS—THAT IS HOW THE EARTH BECAME POPULATED.

  EVEN AFTER THAT, THE BIRTHING CONTINUED. SINGLE CELLS FUSED TOGETHER, CREATING METAZOANS THAT EVENTUALLY CULMINATED IN THE INVENTION OF ROSES AND ELEPHANTS AND DEW-GLISTENED LEAVES AND EVEN HUMAN BEINGS. ALL LIFE ON THIS PLANET—PAST, PRESENT, AND WHAT THERE IS OF THE FUTURE—SPRANG FROM THE SAME SINGLE ORGANISM. IF ONLY THEY COULD JUST SEE THE JOINING OF ORGANISMS INTO COMMUNITIES, THOSE COMMUNITIES INTO ECOSYSTEMS, THOSE ECOSYSTEMS INTO THE BIOSPHERE …

  I’M GETTING AHEAD OF MYSELF. THAT ALWAYS HAPPENS WHEN I WAX NOSTALGIC ABOUT THE GOOD OLD DAYS.

  I AM THAT FIRST ANIMAL, GIL: ALL THE REST SPRANG FROM ME. AND THAT’S ALL YOU’RE GETTING UNTIL YOU REMEMBER THE REST ON YOUR OWN …

  I waited, flipping to the pages further back, which were blank. I turned back to the last illustrated page, only Long-Lost was gone; in his place were now six panels, the first one showing a boy of about nine or ten lying in a hospital bed while a lovely girl several years his senior held his hand.

  I recognized Beth and myself immediately.

  The next panel had no illustration, just a thought bubble with a caption that read:

  ALL RIGHT, GIL—A LITTLE NUDGE. CONSIDER IT A GESTURE OF GOOD FAITH. THESE PAGES ARE MADE FROM A SECTION OF FLESH TAKEN FROM ONE OF MY WINGS. THEY REFLECT MEMORIES, GIL, BUT ONLY THOSE YOU’RE WILLING TO FACE. YOU’LL BE WRITING AND ILLUSTRATING THE REST OF THIS ISSUE.

  WE’LL TALK AGAIN SOON.

  I went back to the first panel again, only now there was the caption:

  BETH WAS RELEASED FROM THE HOSPITAL FIVE DAYS BEFORE ME, BUT SHE MADE IT A POINT TO VISIT ME EVERY DAY AFTER SCHOOL.

  The second panel was now filled by the young boy’s face—my own—and the caption was situated close to the top of his head, so you’d know it was he who was narrating.

  EVEN THEN I NOTICED HOW SOME OF HER SPARKLE SEEMED TO FADE ONCE SHE WAS BACK IN THE WORLD.

  And I stayed like that, on the stool in the barn, while outside a gigantic bear and two black dogs stood guard; I stayed like that, reading the comic through to the last page, then returning to the first and finding that it had altered and was now taking up the story where the last page had left off, and I read the words, and I saw the pictures, and with every new panel the memories were as thick as summer heat around me, and I was…powerless.

  But there was Beth’s face, and soon her voice in my ears, her scent enveloping me, the ghost of her touch rising to the surface from deep beneath the layers of my skin, and I stopped fighting it and let myself—

  (… about goddamn time, pal…)

  —become lost once again in her eyes, her companionship, and everything that followed… .

  II

  BETH, AND

  EVERYTHING

  THAT FOLLOWED

  1970–1983

  Beth was released from the hospital five days before I was, but she made it a point to visit me every day after school. Even then I noticed how some of her sparkle seemed to fade once she was back in the world. It was nothing dramatic, her spirit hadn’t been broken in one brutal blow, but even a kid can recognize a soul that’s starting to bleed to death from thousands of tiny scratches.

  Still, she was always upbeat and affectionate, bringing me comic books or telling me about this groovy new song she’d heard on the radio, or regaling me with gossip gathered during lunch or study hall. She always sat on the edge of my bed and held my hand and made me feel like I was the most important thing in the world. I had never received such unselfish attention from a person before, nor have I since.

  “I’ve been driving for a month now,” she said, “and my aunt is finally trusting me to use the car when she’s not with me. I haven’t had any passengers yet”—she winked at me and smiled one of those delicious I’ve-got-a-surprise smiles—”but that’s gonna change on Friday.”

  “What’s Friday?”

  She lightly smacked my hand. “Friday, dummy, is when you get released. Doctor said you’ll be well enough to go home, and I am going to pick you up.”

  “But Mom and Dad—”

  “I already asked your mom and she said it was fine.”

  I blinked. It had never occurred to me that Mom wouldn’t want to pick me up, but just as unsettling was the idea that she had given Beth—who was little more than a stranger to her—permission to take me. “Did you ask her when she was here?”

  “Nuh-uh. I called your house.”

  We were unlisted. “How’d you get our phone number?”

  Another patented Beth wink. “Vee haf vays of gazzering zee information.”

  “Huh?”

  “Someday you’ll understand. Care enough about someone, and you’ll find a way to help them, no matter what.”

  I didn’t really understand what she meant by that, but it seemed like this was something she really wanted to do because she liked me. I had to keep reminding myself that this great girl with the long hair and love beads and hip-huggers and gold flecks in her light brown eyes liked me. A lot, it seemed.

  “Hey, here’s an idea—how about after I pick you up, we go out for some ice cream cones?”

  “Sure!”

  “Then maybe you can come over and eat dinner with the family.”

  “Oh—did your mom come home?”

  A brief, wistful shadow crossed over her face and then was gone, replaced by her bright smile that seemed a little false. “No, it’s just me and my aunt and the Its.”

  “‘Its’?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Mom called the morning of my release and said it was fine if I wanted to go over to Beth’s for dinner; Dad wasn’t feeling well (which meant he was either drunk or hung-over) and it might be best if I didn’t come home right away. Too much activity might upset him and we couldn’t have that. It made me glad she wasn’t picking me up; all she’d do was complain about Dad, then tell me not to say anything.

  A little before ten a doctor I hadn’t seen before came in and gave me the once-over, told me that I’d need to exercise my shoulder, and gave me a pamphlet explaining how to do it. Half an hour later a nurse I’d never seen before came in with a wheelchair, handed me some slips of paper, and told me that my ride was here. Beth came in right behind her, all Day-Glo smiles and flourescent sunshine.

  “Ready to hit the road, little brother?” She winked at me but the nurse didn’t see it. “Got all your stuff? Okay, good—what about his prescriptions?”

  “He’s got them,” replied the nurse, who must have been new to this floor because she didn’t seem to recognize Beth at all.

  “Cool. Mom gave me money to get them filled on the way home.” She was play-acting, just like her mother on the London Stage. It was kind of fun to watch.

  I was rolled downstairs and to Beth’s car—a monstrous green U-boat of a station wagon with wood paneling on the doors. Inside it smelled of cigarettes, sweat, and something pungent that made my nose itch.

  Once on our way, Beth reached over and squeezed my hand. “How you feeling, hon? Any pain?”

  “Yeah, a little. My shoulder and stuff.”

  “Let’s stop and get your medicine. My treat.”

  “But Mom said my medicine was going to be expensive.”

  “Codeine, some stuff for swelling and stiffness, and antibiotics. Twenty-two dollars—I already checked.”

  I know it’s hard to remember, but in 1970, twentytwo dollars was a lo
t of money, even if you weren’t a kid.

  “That’s an awful lot,” I said.

  “Hey, nothing’s too good for my guy. Besides, I’ve been saving my allowance for years. And I worked waiting tables part-time during the summer. It won’t leave me broke.”

  She was my friend, she’d visited me, she was giving me a ride for ice cream, and now she was going to spend twenty-two dollars of her own money on medicine for me? What had I done to deserve this? People never did anything for me without wanting something back for it, and for a moment I thought maybe Beth was going to say something like, “Hey, since I did this for you, would you do a favor for me?” But she never did, not once in all the years I knew her.

  Prescriptions in hand, we drove over to the Tasty Freeze on West Church Street and pigged out on the Holy Grail of large cones: the two-scoop doubledipped chocolate with sprinkles. Impossible not to eat and wear at the same time. About midway through it my shoulder and arm began to hurt terribly, so Beth bought a small Coke and gave me a pain pill. By the time I finished the cone, I was feeling full and shiny. For all I knew my shoulder and arm were still in agony but, thanks to the pill, I didn’t care anymore.

  “Oh, great,” said Beth, lifting my head by the chin and looking in my eyes. “The first time I’m in charge of someone younger than me and I get him stoned. Let’s get out of here before someone calls the fuzz on us.”

  Back in the car, I noticed how the shine from the sun in her rearview mirror painted a glowing slash across her face. It looked as if she was wearing a golden mask. Whenever she turned to speak to me, the mask would slip around her face and over her ears, turning her hair the color of dreams. “Still with me?”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, though I felt really sleepy.

  “Hey, wake up, Boy Wonder, c’mon.” She sounded genuinely concerned. “C’mon, okay? Stay awake. I checked the instructions and it turns out I’m a spaz, I was only supposed to give you half a pill, not a whole one. Don’t make me have to take you back to the hospital to get your stomach pumped or something, okay?”