Grimm Reapings

by R. Patrick Gates

  "She's here," he said quietly. "In the crematorium.... He walked toward the tall white cabinets along the wall to the right of the embalming table.

  Jennifer Watson woke from a dreamless sleep to darkness, silence, and a pain in her mouth that was a mere ache compared to the excruciating, searing pain in her womb. She tried to move, but her hands and legs were tied to the bed. She could feel a warm fluid seeping from her vagina and realized she was losing her baby.

  She screamed through her broken teeth and mangled lips and didn't stop screaming until she fainted from pain, exhaustion, and massive blood loss.

  Tiptoeing in an exaggerated cartoonish fashion with his hands held up and pulled into his chest like the small arms of a T-Rex, his shoulders hunched, back bent, head jutting forward, Steve crossed to the cabinet from where the sweet scent of the child emanated. He was about to throw open the cabinet when his head snapped back and he stared at the ceiling.

  My little mother!

  Her mind racing through the huge house, she finally arrives upon the bloody scene. So much blood can mean only one thing.

  The baby is dead.

  "Your future is dead, Eleanor!"

  Edmund?

  As much as the witch, Ginny felt Jen's pain. Unlike the witch, she did not let it distract her; she used it to her advantage instead.

  Now!

  She sent out the psychic command to Steve and Jackie, giving the latter's untethered psyche a hand into the witch's mind.

  She mistakes their presence and the voice of Steve Nailer speaking to her, as the voice of her long-dead brother, Edmund, and she is afraid.

  In the distance, growing louder, strange music that is vaguely familiar... .

  Jackie's awareness of what was going on became a strobe light existence of images and emotions, of pain and fear. Within moments of losing Ginny's room in a cloud, he felt the unmistakable pull of her mind return, leading him right into the brightest strobe of all.

  When he could see again he couldn't believe it.

  'The bridge of the starship Enterprise," he said, incredulously. It wasn't just the bridge; the theme music was playing and all the characters were there, too. Ohura was to the right at the COM. Spock was at the science officer's station. At the helm, Sulu and Chekov. But instead of Captain James T. Kirk in the commander's chair, it was Eleanor Grimm, the only one not in uni form, wearing black as usual. Behind her stood Steve, wearing a Star Trek captain's uniform and holding a phaser to the witch's head.

  "What the fuck?" Jackie marveled. He looked at himself and smiled at the nice fit of his uniform.

  "It's Steve's image," Ginny said, materializing next to him. "I helped him form it.... It's something he believes in deeply and it helps him."

  Jackie smiled, remembering how much he and Little Steve had been into the original Star Trek and its many spin-offs when they were growing up.

  "Give me back my body!" Steve demanded of the witch.

  Eleanor Grimm laughed at him and turned to give Jackie a look as if to say, "Is this kid for real?"

  "So you fuckers think you can match wits with me?" she barked. As she spoke, her head suddenly swelled like a helium balloon stuck on its canister, growing too large. Her head became enormous, comical, then grotesque and exploded, throwing a shower of black bees in every direction. They knocked Steve to the floor, and blasted Jackie through the wall of the Enterprise and out into the blackness of space.

  Jackie woke up, expelling his breath in surprise at waking in his own bed, in his dorm room.

  "It was a dream," he whispered, and smiled. He had never felt so relieved, or so good, than he felt right then. He looked over and felt happier. Chalice was snuggled in bed next to him, naked. He rolled over and slid next to her, kissing her and stroking her arm, moving to her breasts. After that horrible nightmare, he wanted nothing more than to make love to her and just feel secure in her embrace.

  He pulled the covers back and teased her nipples with his tongue while his left hand traced the curves of her body, under her breasts, along her ribs, over her flat, hard stomach, around her navel ring, and over her tight abs to the warm, curly riot of hair and ...

  Her penis?

  His hand went lower.

  And testicles?

  He threw back the covers and gaped at the massive phallus and scrotum between Chalice's legs. Only it wasn't Chalice anymore, it was Eleanor Grimm, only she was a man.

  The witch shrieked with laughter at his shock and her giant member began ejaculating great gobs of blood on him. He scrambled to get away and fell out of bed.

  He fell through the floor and kept falling.

  Virginya sat cross-legged on her bed and regarded the witch, who stood by the window, looking around in stunned surprise. The witch hadn't expected Ginny to be able to pull her in there when she attacked. Ginny could sense rage and more than a little fear. The witch had never met anyone, outside of her family, with similar powers, Ginny learned. The witch growled at her, knowing Ginny had taken the knowledge but unable to do anything about it.

  The girl has power.

  "That's right," Ginny replied, calmly, enraging the witch further.

  Where are we? What is this place?

  Ginny knew the witch was just biding time, trying to figure out how to escape, what to do. It was okay with her. The more time the better.

  "This is my room. I brought you here. I want to talk to you."

  Jackie landed in the easy chair at his mother's house. The TV was on, showing a grainy black-andwhite picture of Virginya Hoar's bedroom. She was sitting on her bed, and Eleanor Grimm was pacing by the window. Suddenly Eleanor turned and looked directly out of the screen and into Jackie's eyes.

  He heard a banshee scream from the kitchen and his mutilated, dead mother charged at him, a meat cleaver brandished above her head, ready to strike. Jackie screamed as loud as his mother, but for not as long. She leaped upon him and hammered the meat cleaver repeatedly into his chest.

  "Why do you like it so much? Why do you enjoy being so bad?" Ginny asked, seeing a clear mental image of what had just happened to Jackie. She felt bad for Chalice's boyfriend, but his pain was keeping the witch distracted, so she didn't interfere. She hoped it didn't kill him.

  Try it sometime, you'll like it. The witch smiled at her. You've got the power, why not enjoy it?

  Virginya shook her head. "It's wrong," she said with childish truth and simplicity. "You shouldn't hurt people, you should help them, but you can't do that, so you've got to leave."

  The witch laughed at her.

  Leave? You're out of your league, girl. I'm not going anywhere. You might be strong, but you re not that strong.

  It was a bluff; Ginny knew it. The witch had no idea how strong Ginny was or what she could do; Ginny herself felt she hadn't reached her full potential yet. But she had no intention of fighting the witch and casting her out like some demon. All she had to do was keep her occupied a little while longer and the witch would be only too ready to leave.

  "Maybe I am, maybe I ain't," Ginny replied. "But I don't want to fight you. There's another way. I've got a deal for you. If you go along and agree to live by my rules, I think I can pull you out of the boy and you can come and live with me in my head. It might make you weaker than you are now, but I figure that's a good thing, because I don't want you to be in control. But you can live with me and talk to me and share my thoughts and feelings-my life. You won't be alive exactly ... but you won't be dead ... or alone."

  Some proposition. You are even crazier than me, girl.

  The witch laughed, but Ginny sensed she was tempted. Good, she thought. Just a little bit longer.

  "Come on, Steve, now or never," she whispered.

  Chalice Silver woke in tears from the throbbing pain in her fractured hand, bruised jaw, and broken nose. The pain became more intense the more awake she became until she was gasping from the intensity of it. She moaned deep in her throat as she tried to sit up on the edge of the chair. She knew what t
his room was-the crematorium. She had snuck a brief peek at it, without Jackie knowing, during their visit last year.

  "Oh no!" Her eyes fell on Jackie lying on the embalming table to her left. Wincing, she stood, cradling her broken hand close to her stomach and working her sore jaw slowly back and forth. She could taste copper in her mouth and couldn't breathe through her blood-clogged, swollen nose. She went over to the table. Jackie didn't appear to be breathing. She leaned over and put her ear close to his mouth but could hear nothing. Using her good right hand she placed two fingers on the side of his neck, feeling for a pulse. There was none.

  "No!" Chalice sobbed. She tried to administer CPR, but her fractured left hand and fingers hurt too badly. In frustration she closed her good hand into a fist and hammered on Jackie's chest in an effort to jumpstart his heart. After a dozen blows, she bent over him, put her bloody, sore lips to his, and gave him mouth to mouth.

  So, this is what its like to die?Jackie thought. It wasn't that bad. The initial shock of his mother's attack and the pain from the cleaver cutting into him was gone. He couldn't even see her bloody face anymore as she drove the meat cleaver into his chest. He could still feel the impact of her blows on him, but there was no pain with it. The hammering on his chest was far away.

  It stopped and he was immediately engulfed in the most wonderful sensation he had ever felt-the essence of Life itself pouring into his lungs via a kiss.

  He opened his eyes. The blackness was brightening. Chalice's face appeared far below him and rose to his eyes until she was above him, leaning over and kissing him.

  He wasn't dead. He was alive.

  "I love you," he whispered as she pulled away.

  "Me too," she sobbed happily.

  Steve Nailer lurched herky-jerky to his feet from where he had collapsed by the white cabinet. Like a drunk who finds it hard to coordinate his movements, he looked around, eyes passing over Chalice and Jackie, then the cage, and coming to rest on the crematorium oven and the wheel-topped conveyor table in front of it. He reached for it, as if by doing so he could magically pull himself to it. He took a stiff legged step toward the oven, then another. With each step his movements became more fluid, more natural. In this way he managed to slowly cross to the crematorium furnace door and the conveyor belt that fed it.

  The girl is strong and powerful, and, even more disconcerting, confident and courageous beyond her years.

  She is stronger than me.

  She hates to admit it but knows it is true. Somehow, under her very nose, this mere child has existed with such poweror has she just managed somehow to absorb my powers and grow stronger just as I have weakened?

  With the realization that the little mother has lost her baby comes temptation to take the child's offer. Surely she'll be able to take over once inside her mind. After all, she's only a child and I am ...

  Weak! And another transfer without the correct and complete ritual and sacrifices and she knows she'll be weaker than ever.

  The girl is clever, too. Alternatives are limited; time is short. Another fetus isn't hard to find, nor are the sacrificesit is time that she lacks. She cannot keep up this constant battle with her host's returning psyche.

  Speaking of which ...

  Where is he?

  Panic seizes her as she realizes his body-her body-is moving and she is not in control. The boy has slipped in and regained rudimentary control of his limbs while she was being distracted by the girl!

  Where is he going?

  No!

  Jackie closed his eyes and opened them again just to make sure he wasn't still dreaming. Chalice smiled back at him and splashed his face and lips with tears. His head hammered with the worst headache he had ever had, but her cool tears of joy on his face brought relief.

  There was a sudden loud metallic clank from the side of the room. Chalice immediately looked up. It took Jackie longer and brought severe pain, but he turned his head and looked, too. It was his brother, Steve, leaning over the crematorium's conveyor belt. As if fighting against unseen hands that were trying to hold him back, Steve climbed onto the conveyor belt, reached over, and pushed the lever to open the furnace door. With a loud rattle of weights descending in the walls and heavy chains lifting the massive iron door, it went slowly up.

  Steve turned slightly and made eye contact with Jackie. He winked and struggled forward, fighting his way against thin air as he tried to crawl into the open oven.

  "No!" Jackie gasped, barely able to speak with the pain the effort brought.

  What have you done? You little bitch! What have you done?

  The witch's rage was a physical force, lashing out at Ginny. She fled, leaving the witch screaming after her.

  "It's up to you, Steve," she whispered, waking in the darkness of her cabinet shelf hiding place. She opened her eyes and kicked the cabinet door open. She rolled out and quickly got to her feet, taking in the room with a glance. Aunt Chalice was okay and hovering over Jackie on the metal table. He was awake; he was going to be okay. Both of them were staring over at Steve on the conveyor belt trying to crawl into the furnace oven. He seemed to be stuck, unable to force his body any farther.

  She knew the witch was trying to stop him. Behind her, on the third shelf of the cabinet she'd just climbed out of, were a half dozen glass beakers and large glass syringes with no needles attached to them. Remembering something she had learned during one of the times she had been in the witch's mind, Virginya grabbed one of the beakers and smashed it on the floor.

  The affect on Steve Nailer was immediate. He jerked once, then looked at Ginny and nodded. "Yes! That's it!" he grunted.

  She broke another beaker and a syringe. With each crash of glass, Steve Nailer managed to crawl a little farther into the oven. Two-thirds in, he stalled. Ginny reached for another piece of glass, but the shelf was empty. She was out of glass. She had to do something else but immediately saw that she was too short to be able to reach up and help Steve, and Jackie was too hurt. She didn't like it-and was sure Aunt Chalice was going to like it less-but she had no choice and no time to convince her aunt to do what had to be done. Turning to her aunt, she focused her mind, reached out, and commanded.

  Later, Chalice Silver would remember the next few moments in dreams or only under hypnotic therapy. It was the least Ginny could do to try and make up to her aunt what she had to force her to do. Like a B-movie robot suddenly switched on, Chalice straightened, a dazed look on her face, her arms out in front of her, and ran straight at Steve Nailer. Unmindful of her broken hand bones crunching against each other, she shoved him into the crematorium furnace.

  Steve let out a loud, high-pitched shriek and sprawled headfirst into the large oven. Chalice immediately slid around the conveyor belt and hit the lever to close the furnace door. It rattled down, heading for Steve's kicking ankles, but at the last moment he pulled his feet in and the door closed cleanly.

  Inside the oven, Steve's screams continued, the heavy iron door muffling them, but not the panic and fear apparent in them.

  Chalice seemed daunted by the screams and wavered, looking unsteady on her feet.

  "That's just the witch!" Ginny shouted at her. "Do it!"

  Like a soldier commanded to attention, Chalice snapped upright and reached out to turn the oven on. The screaming from within the oven abruptly stopped.

  Suddenly, Ginny screamed, and her hands flew to her head. She cried, "No!" and slumped to the floor.

  Chalice, hands still on the knob to turn the oven on, hesitated.

  "Wait! " Steve's muffled voice came from within the oven. "She's gone! The witch is gone!" The joy and relief in his voice were unmistakable.

  Chalice faltered, blinked, and let go of the knob. She looked confused, like a deep-sleeper rudely awakened. Concern quickly supplanted the confusion at the sight of her niece unconscious on the crematorium floor.

  "Let me out! The witch is gone!" Steve cried again, panic and fear starting to edge out the joy and relief.

&nbs
p; Jackie heard him, and was immediately convinced it really was Steve and not Eleanor Grimm trying to fool them. "Open the door," he managed to get out to Chalice. "Let him out."

  Chalice nodded and grabbed the lever to the left of the door. She got no further.

  "No!"

  Chalice stiffened at the sound of her niece's command.

  Virginya got to her feet and walked slowly toward Chalice. "Do it," she said quietly, but forcefully, to her aunt.

  "What are you doing?" Jackie could only whisper from the table. The effort of moving and talking cost him greatly and he swam in and out of foggy consciousness.

  "Do it!" Virginya commanded again. "It's still her! She's lying."

  Chalice once again grabbed the flame control.

  "No, it's Steve! "Jackie barely got out from the table, but no one heard him.

  "Do it, now!" Ginny commanded one last time.

  Chalice turned the flame to full.

  "What are you doing? No! Oh God! No!" Steve Nailer screamed from within the oven. He pleaded, screaming and crying out that he was free of the witch, until his words and screams became unintelligible and unbearable to listen to.

  In front of the oven door, Virginya Hoar trembled violently for a few moments, shook her head as if clearing it, and joined in the screaming. Hers were soon loud enough to drown out the cries from within the oven.

  A moment later, Chalice, too, took up echoing the screams, and kept on screaming long after her niece, and the awful cries from within the oven, had stopped.

  EPILOGUE

  HALLOWEEN AGAIN

  And now my story is done ... ?

  Jackie Nailer sat waiting and thinking by the window in his room overlooking the Spaulding Rehab Center's parking lot. It had been a long three months since the Fourth of July.

  A long three months.

  In that time, he'd had a lot of opportunity to think, a lot of time to understand, and a lot of time to grieve. The cost of Independence Day, hosted by the witch, had been high. Jennifer was dead, unable to survive the massive blood loss she experienced during her miscarriage. Jeremy Watson and his sister, Debbie, were dead. He had later found out that Mrs. Trank, who lived across the street from his mother, had killed herself that day, and a cop from Northwood had done likewise in the woods right outside Grimm Memorials while Jackie, Chalice, and Virginya had been grappling with the witch.