The Fractured Fallen (A Dark Fantasy Horror): The Edge of Reflection Book 4

by Carver Pike

  “Yeah, I’m hungry, pal!” Tact called out.

  “You really think that’s a good idea?” Gabe asked.

  “You got dinner reservations someplace else?” Tact replied. “We gotta eat at some point, man.”

  Gabe shrugged his shoulders and followed after Tact.

  “Hey, you hungry?” the man asked again.

  “I said yes,” Tact answered.

  As the group reached the man, he called out once again, “Hey, you hungry?”

  Gabe looked around to see if anyone else was watching.

  “Are we on candid camera?” he asked.

  No one else seemed to get the joke.

  “Hey, you hungry?” the man asked again.

  “I think that’s all he say,” Bronc said as he and Emma caught up.

  The vendor smiled a huge smile and nodded his head up and down enthusiastically.

  “You sure are one cheerful dude,” Gabe said as he gently patted the man on his shoulder.

  The man tipped his hat and smiled.

  As Tact rummaged through the man’s cooler, checking out his goods, Gabe surveyed the world around them. In the bright sun, the city didn’t look much different from what he expected Chicago to look like on the other side of the mirror, or at least what it would look like following a nuclear blast.

  Skyscrapers that looked like office buildings or hotels lined the street across from where they were standing. Down one of the streets he could see raised train tracks that he assumed carried an el train at some point, now in shambles. A small diner was at the street corner, with a disheveled man sitting on the ground in front of it, reading what appeared to be a newspaper, as he spoke to himself in a hushed voice.

  “Sandwiches,” Tact called out. “Tuna mostly.”

  “Tuna?” Gabe asked, surprised.

  He’d never heard anyone mention tuna on the dark side of the mirror.

  “What? You never heard of it? It’s good,” Tact said. “Not sure if I trust eating the stuff out of a street vendor’s cooler, but we ain’t got much of a choice.”

  “Sure, I’ll take tuna,” Gabe said.

  Tact tossed a sandwich to each person in their party.

  “Umm, anyone got any royce?” he asked.

  Bronc fished into his pants pocket and pulled out a few bills.

  “Not much left,” he said as he handed it over.

  “Seems peaceful,” Lisa said. “Guess that general is doing a pretty good job after all.”

  Gabe was about to agree with her when a siren suddenly blasted through the air. Like the insane wail of a tornado warning, it just kept ringing and ringing, so loud that Gabe had to cover his ears. The happy street vendor gasped and slammed his cooler closed. He grabbed its handle, yanked it up, and frantically raced across the street.

  “That woman mentioned a siren!” Lisa yelled. “And she was freaked out, too!”

  “What the hell is this?” Gabe asked Tact, who seemed just as confused.

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “Ain’t never heard nothin’ bout any sirens.”

  “We need follow that man!” Bronc called out as he led Emma across the street, following the vendor, not waiting to see if the others agreed.

  “Damnit,” Gabe cursed. “Think we can make it to the tower?”

  Tact shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, man.”

  “Bronc has good instincts, Gabe,” Hawks called out. “We should get off the street. Something has people spooked, and I don’t think we should wait around to find out what it is.”

  Gabe reluctantly agreed and they all followed Bronc, who was following the vendor.

  Bronc entered one of the buildings just below the el train tracks. Gabe led Lisa through the door after him. As the others entered, and the door closed behind them, Gabe was struck with an uneasy feeling. They were shrouded in complete darkness. No light at all.

  “Bronc?” Gabe called out.

  “Gabe,” he replied.

  “Don’t nonaya fuckin’ move!” a strange voice cut through the darkness.

  “Gabe?” Lisa called out.

  “I’m right here,” he said as he felt around for her hand. He found it and gave it a squeeze. Vision cooed in the darkness and Vincent whined.

  “Whatna hell’s all that ruckus?” came the voice in the darkness again. It definitely wasn’t coming from the vendor, so there was someone else in the room with them.

  Gabe felt something cold and hard tap against his forehead. Then a lantern came to light and a warm glow shined off the pistol pointed at his head. Gabe saw that the vendor was holding the lantern for someone who stood in the shadows.

  “Look,” Gabe said. “We don’t mean any harm. We’re visitors here. We heard the sirens, saw your friend there go runnin’, and we nervously followed him.”

  “Slim Pickins?” the man in the darkness asked.

  The vendor moved the lantern closer to Gabe’s aggressor and Gabe could see that he was an older man, missing several teeth, with a thin, rumpled, big round hat on his head, almost like a ten-gallon cowboy hat, but much shorter and uglier. The man’s pointy nose looked to have had a bite taken out of it. He was an ugly man.

  “Slim Pickins his name!” the aggressor informed them. “Named ‘em that maself. Cain’t say but a few words. Dumb as a box a rocks, but a friendlier chap ya never meet.”

  “Nice to meet you…Slim Pickins,” Gabe said to the vendor.

  The man only nodded in return.

  “I’m Gabe, and I’d love to introduce you to the rest of my friends here, if you’d kindly remove the pistol you’ve got knockin’ against my forehead. Between that and those damn sirens I can feel a headache comin’ on.”

  “I take ya upstairs, where it’s a bit safer, but the pistol stays pointed atcha ‘till I decide if’n y’all be friends or foes,” the man said.

  The man’s plan sounded better than the situation he was currently in so Gabe had no choice but to agree. He only hoped none of his traveling partners would strike up the urge to put an arrow in the man’s neck or something like that before he got the chance to learn a little bit more about the sirens and the situation going on outside. Slim Pickins led the way to the second floor.

  Upstairs, in an almost completely empty office save for a desk with nothing on it but a notepad and a pile of pens, and a bookshelf with a few rotting paperbacks falling over, the group sat in a big open circle. The man with the gun sat at the desk, in a chair that looked like it was about to fold in on itself.

  He leaned over and pulled a thick black curtain over the one window in the room, then set his gun down on the desk and lit another lantern, this one much brighter than the first.

  “I ain’t a stupid man. I clearly see y’all got guns and knives and all sorts a other odds and ends on ya, so I s’pose if ya wanted me dead, it’d be easy enough.”

  “Nobody here wants anyone dead,” Gabe said.

  “Anyway, ma name’s Jaundice Jones.”

  In the now brighter room, Gabe could see how he’d gotten the nickname. The man’s skin was sickly looking, with a slightly yellow tint.

  “What y’all want?”

  “Nothing,” Gabe answered. “Just information, I guess. We need to go to the big tower, the Observatory of Oddity.”

  Jaundice Jones shook his head and snickered.

  “Ya idiots think ya gonna jus waltz right through them streets like some sorta happy lil marchin’ band? You know what ‘em sirens mean?”

  “No, we were hoping you’d tell us,” Hawks spoke up.

  “Em sirens mark the end a da free time. ‘Till ya hear ‘em again, ‘em streets ain’t safe. The general’s soldiers are out. It’s a time fer cleanin’ up an makin’ thangs right. Bein’ out durin’ the general’s time is forbidden. You get caught outside, ya die.”

  “No wonder the place looks so tidy,” Lisa said.

  “It’s like a very violent version of your parents sending you to your room,” Gabe added.

  “Your paren
ts sent you to your room when they cleaned?” Lisa asked. “Mine went to their room while I cleaned.”

  “You guys seem to be taking this quite well,” Hawks interrupted. “We’re gonna be trapped here for awhile. Unless the plan is to take our chances out there with soldiers gunning at us.”

  “Aha, you be dancin’ a funny jig wit bullets flyin’ at yer feet, all da way ta Oddity!” Jaundice Jones slapped his knee and hooted as if he’d just told the funniest joke known to man.

  Slim Pickins, who sat in the circle with Gabe and the others, busted out laughing too, seeming to completely get whatever joke Gabe had missed.

  Through the best fake laugh Gabe could muster, he chuckled and asked, “So when does this…um…time of tidiness or cleanliness or whatever the general calls this non-free time end?”

  “Calls it sanitation. Everbody knows ya don’t go out durin’ da sanitation.” Jaundice Jones informed them.

  “So when is sanitation complete?” Gabe asked.

  “Hmm, well, I s’pose it ends right around five o’clock, give er take a hour. For real, it ends when General Falix say it ends. Then the siren blows.”

  Gabe looked over at Bronc and watched as he stroked Emma’s head, keeping her relaxed.

  “And it’s bout ten now, in the mornin’, so ya gots a good…” Jaundice Jones held up his fingers to count. “…seven hours er so. Ya might as well be gettin’ some sleep.”

  Gabe nodded. Although he wanted to get out on the road, he felt fortunate that Bronc and Emma would have a little bit of time to rest.

  Chapter 8 - Dinner Mystery Party

  On the other side of the mirror, where families not only existed, but gathered for dinner each evening, prayed before digging in, and spent the rest of the meal chatting and asking each other how their day went, Haylay sat as stiff as he possibly could, a feat that was surprisingly easy considering he was wearing a tight pair of khaki pants and a ridiculous plaid shirt he’d found hanging in Hollis’ closet.

  Not a single damned thing was stylish. For a gay man, the guy had the worst sense of fashion Haylay had ever seen. He half expected to push on some sort of loose brick that would spin him around into a din of fabulous feather boas, colorful wigs, and leather chaps, but Hollis was as clean as they came. No gay bat cave was hidden at the back of the closet. Only more wrinkle-free khakis.

  Sitting at the dinner table, minus his wig, makeup, and bra, Haylay felt oddly out of place. He’d wrapped his chest as tight as he possibly could with thick gauze he found in the bathroom cabinet, and was doing his best to keep his arms folded. Somehow Heather hadn’t noticed them the other day, or thought because he was dressed in drag that he was simply wearing a stuffed bra, but now, in regular men’s clothing, it wouldn’t be difficult to spot the two large, sexy-as-hell breasts Haylay had bought long ago.

  The light from the chandelier overhead bounced a beam of bright light off of the bald spot at the top of Hollis’ father’s head. His name was Haywood, one more stuck-up sounding “H” name to round out the family. From a picture on the wall of Hollis, Heather, Haywood, and a beautiful woman by his side, Haylay gathered that mom had passed away at some point.

  The dining room was so silent Haylay could hear the gentle sawing of Haywood’s knife going back and forth through his big juicy steak. Haylay cut his own piece of meat and glanced over at Heather, who seemed to be fighting back the urge to laugh, loving the secret she was keeping.

  “So,” Haywood finally said, cutting through the silence the way his knife was doing its dirty work. “You missed choir practice at church the other day.”

  Haylay didn’t respond. Was he supposed to? If he was, what would he say? He didn’t know he had choir practice, and even if he did, he didn’t sing. The church was better off having him far away from practice.

  He’d tried to sing once, when one of his johns had asked him to sing during sex, and a few short moments later, the customer begged him to stop. Turned out he was able to cum quicker without Haylay’s screeching out the lyrics to the Bangels’ “Eternal Flame.” He made a mental note to pick up some more cassette tapes before crossing back to the dark side.

  “Hollis had a doctor’s appointment,” Heather blurted out, just as Haywood was about to speak again.

  “Really?” Haywood asked as he shoved a piece of steak into his mouth, chewed, swallowed, then pointed his fork at Haylay. “‘Cause Dr. Chauncey was at the Christian couples meeting, which took place at the same time as the choir rehearsal, so unless you’ve up and ditched the family doctor, I don’t see how that excuse is gonna hold up, young man…” He turned his fork towards Heather. “…and young lady.”

  Haylay sliced off a piece of the baked potato on his plate, shoved it into his mouth, and chewed while he glared back at Haywood. He felt the burn rising in his chest, like acid reflux. Haylay had no doubt he pulled this kind of bullshit on Hollis all the time.

  The desire to rip into this man was overwhelming. If Hollis was nearing thirty years old, this old guy at the table had no damned right to scold his son for his actions. If he missed a choir practice, so what?

  “Are you going to talk to me?” Haywood asked. “I won’t be ignored at my own dinner table in my own house.”

  Haylay racked his brain. He searched for the right words to say, but the gauze on his chest was itching, the button on his pants felt like it was going to shoot off at any second, and he hated the feel of the cold air conditioner on his bald head. He wanted a wig and he wanted it right fucking now.

  “What am I going to tell the people at the church when they ask why my own son missed choir practice today?” Haywood asked.

  Haylay continued eating, afraid that if he said even one word, all of the feelings bottled up inside would come spilling out. He could feel Hollis’ pent up rage, the fear he felt when facing his father, and the total concern he had about disappointing the man. He could sense the sadness Hollis felt every time he heard his dad bad mouth homosexuals. He could feel the worry and the shame Hollis dealt with each and every day and he could imagine the pain he felt each time he looked at his father sitting across from him at the dinner table, knowing that he’d never be able to have his own family, at least not one that his father would ever welcome. There’d be no Sunday post-church barbecues.

  Hollis had always had only two options. He could either hide his homosexuality and be miserable, or be honest, and be more miserable.

  “You know what?” Haylay shouted as he kicked back his seat, stood at the table, and pointed a finger at Hollis’ father. “You know what?” Haylay didn’t even know what. What was he about to say? “Tell the people at your church to mind their own damned business!” he announced.

  Heather gasped and Haywood stared stoicly at him. Oh boy. He’d really done it now. Poor Hollis was gonna have to look for another home when he crossed over.

  “The people at church are family. Yours, mine, Heather’s!” Haywood angrily shouted. He stood up from the table and faced Haylay. “They’ve always been there for us, even when your mother passed!”

  “They’ve been there for us?” Haylay asked.

  He laughed, reached down, and ripped his plaid shirt open. He tore the buttons open all the way down, and ferociously began unwrapping the gauze from his chest, until finally, his two large breasts broke free. Haylay breathed heavily in and out, his tits rising and falling with each breath.

  “Would they be there for me now?”

  Heather’s jaw joined her father’s in dropping. Haywood tried to speak, but it came out sounding something like, “Abba…abba…whatta…”

  Haylay laughed again, and bounced a little, letting his boobs move around freely.

  “You have no fucking idea how badly I’ve wanted to do that all night.”

  “Hollis,” Heather said.

  “Haylay,” he corrected her.

  “Haylay, maybe…”

  “Dad,” he said. “I’m gay. I’m gay! I’m fucking gay!”

  With each repetition of
the word, Haylay felt a little freer, and knew that if Hollis was there in the room, he’d feel the same way. He’d probably be terrified as well, but he’d feel relieved.

  “I’ve heard you say before that gays are not welcome in the church,” Haylay said. “So let’s see how our extended family feels about me now.”

  He turned and walked out of the dining room, his shirt open, his breasts finally one hundred percent free. He tossed open the front door, fished into his tight-ass pants pocket, found Hollis’ keys and made his way to the purple Ford Focus, wondering how Hollis’ father had never put two and two together.