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Planet Purgatory

Page 5

by Martin, Benedict


  “I know. But she’s so frustrating. Who cares about stew when we’ve got this going on?”

  “That’s just Mummy. You should be thankful she didn’t get you with the steel ladle like she did that one time.”

  That made me chuckle. I don’t know why; I still had a dent on the side of my head from that stupid thing, and that was years ago.

  “She got you good, didn’t she?” asked my dad with the slightest grin.

  “Nah. I managed to block most of them.”

  “I don’t know; I counted at least four or five clean shots. All I have to say is you must have one hell of a hard head to break a spoon in half.”

  I started laughing again. My mother’s sudden bouts of rage were a fact of life for me. As long as I could remember, she would lose her temper, and heaven help anyone who got in her way. And the worst part was, there was never any consistency to her behavior. Something she found amusing or merely annoying one day could see you on the receiving end of a whack to the head with a frying pan the next. I don’t know how many times I had to invent stories to explain a black eye or a cracked rib. My mother even tackled me through a sliding door window when I was a teenager, slicing my forearm right down to the muscle.

  The violence occurred less frequently now, but it still happened, and the best I could do was shake it off and attribute it to mental illness. What else could it be? I’d heard stories about her own mother, and her mother’s mother. It was the reason I didn’t want children. I recognized that rage in me, and there was no way I was going to risk subjecting a child to the same abuse I was.

  That’s not to say my dad was the gentle parent. He whipped me plenty growing up, using switches cut from our farm’s hazel trees. But his was a controlled violence, used to instill discipline in a boy he felt was lacking. It might very well have been warranted; I wasn’t the best behaved child growing up. That didn’t stop me from hating him, though. I remember that feeling in my gut I got when he watched me doing my chores. He was just as nasty with his words as he was with the switch, and half the time I would end up making mistakes out of fear of doing something wrong. My relationship with my dad could be summed up in two words: fear and loathing.

  But somewhere along the way, something happened. We became friends. Oh, he still bullied me, usually over my drinking, and there were occasions when we were close to knocking each other’s teeth out, but a bond was forged, one that comes from the strain of running a family farm. I don’t even know when it happened. Somehow I went from being unable to speak in my father’s presence to trading insults as we labored in the dark fixing a tractor that had broken down in the field. There was only one person I trusted to run things when I wasn’t there, and that was my dad. And I’m proud to say that sentiment ran both ways. I still remember the shock of hearing my dad tell my mother’s brother, Fat Old Uncle Earl, that he could die in peace knowing the family farm would be in good hands. In fact it was the same conversation that I first heard him say I was a better farmer than he ever was. And it was the way he said it. He might as well have been talking about the weather, that’s how matter-of-fact his tone was. It threw me, and I ended up excusing myself so they wouldn’t see the resulting tears.

  It was the proudest moment of my life. But it was also a turning point. I finally saw my dad as an equal, who in many ways was just like me. But it also enabled me to recognize his biggest flaw. Behind that cranky veneer was a man who craved authority, and he was not above changing his opinion if it meant being on the winning side of an issue. I used to see it all the time growing up. The mayor or some other bigwig would be invited for dinner at our house, and the whole time my father would be proclaiming what a wonderful thing it was that this guy was in charge. But the moment there was a change in the political wind, my dad would be out there, badmouthing the incumbent while throwing his support behind whoever looked like they were going to take his place. It didn’t matter what the new guy stood for, as long as he showed up at our house for some stew.

  I used to think my dad was a well-respected mover and shaker. But I eventually came to understand he was nothing more than a wily opportunist who would have voted for Adolf Hitler if it meant being able to have him over for dinner. And that’s what had me worried.

  “That guy’s nothing but trouble,” I said. “I had a peek inside his wagon. I’m telling you, Dad, whatever he’s selling, we need to get him the hell away from here.”

  My dad’s eyebrows jumped up his forehead. “You saw his friend?”

  “He’s got some kind of monster in there. I only saw its eye, but that was enough. The thing’s evil.”

  “So it looks dangerous, then?”

  “Dangerous doesn’t do it justice. I might as well have been looking into the eye of the devil.”

  I watched as my dad took a squinty-eyed drag of his cigarette. I was losing him.

  “You should have seen Rosie. I thought she was having a seizure. Look at her, she’s still spooked.”

  My dad nodded, his dark eyes betraying the thoughts I knew were taking shape inside.

  “Come on! You can’t seriously be considering that guy’s offer. Giving him one of our own? That’s just wrong!”

  “How is it worse than what we’re already dealing with?” I think my dad surprised himself, because he glanced at the trailer behind him, cringing ever so slightly. “Eight people were hit, David,” he said, bringing his voice low. “Eight. And it would have been nine were it not for whatever sorcery is keeping you alive. Have you seen them? They’re zombies. And there’s no bringing them back. I know you don’t want to hear it, but that old man might hold the key to keeping you, me, and Mummy safe.”

  “But at what cost? I couldn’t live with myself knowing my survival was bought with someone else’s soul. And I’ll tell you right now, he won’t be content with just one. He’ll want more.”

  “How do you know that?”

  It was times like this that I wanted to smack him. Instead I stood up and paced in front of the fire.

  “What about my plan?” I asked.

  “What about it?”

  “Don’t you think it would be better if we all had SYS guns? We’d be in charge of our own destiny.”

  “Oh, come on, son. You can’t possibly think that’s going to work—”

  “Why not?”

  My dad looked like he was going to answer, but he shook his head instead.

  “Look, I know it’s a risk, but it’s the only plan that makes sense. I’d be armed with my own SYS gun, plus I’d have Rosie with me. And I’d stick to the roads. I’d have to find them eventually.”

  My dad took a contemplative drag of his cigarette. “Okay. Let’s say you do find the SYS building? What guarantee do you have they’ll even see you? They’re so secretive. Hell, they never answered any of my questions the day they came to get you. If you want my opinion, you’re more likely to be sent walking than talk to anyone, let alone convince anyone to give you more guns.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

  The certainty in my voice must have appealed to something inside him, because he leapt from his seat to peer into my eyes.

  “Why? Did someone talk to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who?”

  “The whales.”

  You could practically see the words bounce off my dad’s forehead. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “This morning I was out in the back, back fields when I felt one reach out to me. It was huge. In fact, I’m certain it was the same one that killed me, and it showed me what I need to do to get out of here.”

  “Oh, no. Don’t tell me this has got to do with that Purgatory thing of yours.”

  “In fact, it does—”

  “For God’s sake, David! This isn’t time for games!”

  “It’s not a game! Listen to me, Dad. The whale knows.”

  My dad narrowed his eyes. “Okay. I’ll bite. How does it know?”

  “Because its an a
ngel.”

  “An angel—?”

  “They all are. And this big one, he’s like the, the, what do you call it? The archangel. Like Gabriel. That’s his name, isn’t it? And it’s his job to get us out of here. But to do that, I need to find SYS, and bring back some guns.”

  It was as though all the energy that was keeping my dad standing disappeared, and he toppled backward onto the seat of the picnic table to cradle his face in his hands.

  “I know it sounds crazy. Hell, just saying it out loud makes it all sound so stupid. But it makes sense up here,” I said, tapping my temple with my finger. “God’s given me a mission, and the devil’s here to stop me.”

  “David, David, David. What’s happening to you? You used to have such a good head on your shoulders—”

  “Oh, come on, Dad. Don’t do this to me.”

  “Do what?”

  He was near tears, and not knowing what else to do, I poured myself some chikka before sitting beside him on the bench.

  “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

  My dad took out his handkerchief, giving his eyes a wipe before returning it to his pocket. “No, I don’t think you’re crazy. But something’s happened to you. That energy orb was proof of that. I think between the accident, and the aliens, and that drink, your mind has suffered.”

  “So you do think I’m crazy!”

  “I didn’t say that! But I do think you’re having a mental breakdown.”

  I closed my eyes, willing the chikka to bring forth its fuzzy calm, but it was broken the moment my dad left the table.

  “Come on,” he said.

  “Where are we going?”

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. I knew exactly where he was taking me. There was an empty warehouse on the edge of the settlement, and for some reason, call it a hunch, I knew that’s where they were keeping the people touched by the energy orbs. Opening a side door, my dad turned on a light switch to reveal seven naked men and women, rocking to and fro on a cedar chip strewn floor.

  Flies buzzed over mounds of feces and forgotten bowls of food, and me and my dad took refuge in the fresh air of the doorway.

  I knew all of them. Not very well, but well enough to recognize the toll the energy orbs had already taken on their bodies. It was too much, and I moved to leave, only for my dad to pull me further inside.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded, failing to tug myself free.

  “I want you to see what we’re dealing with here. This isn’t a daydream. These are real people. Look at them.”

  I purposefully looked at the door.

  “Look at them!” he commanded. “They might as well be dead! And it’s only going to happen again. And that’s why I think we need to give this stranger a chance.”

  “So we just give him one of our own?” I asked, finally ripping myself from my father’s grasp.

  “At least it’s only one!”

  “What if it’s you? Or Mummy?”

  “Ain’t gonna happen,” answered my dad, with a dismissive shake of his head.

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m too important. Me and you are the only ones who can grow food around here. There’s no way any of us would be chosen. Especially with some of the dead weight around here.” He smiled at that last part, like we were privy to some private joke. All that did was make me angry.

  “So you’re better than them, is that it? You’d rather take your chances with the old man, because in the end, you think you’re too good to be fed to that thing he’s got locked in his wagon!”

  “That’s not what I’m saying at all!”

  “Of course it is! My God, I never knew you were such a coward!”

  My dad’s eyes widened. “You take that back!”

  “This is exactly like growing up on the farm when you’d schmooze the mayor. It’s got nothing to do with the community. You’re just taking care of yourself. In fact, I bet you’ve already got some poor soul in mind. Who is it? Who’s the bum the great Tag Eno has decided is going to be the sacrificial lamb?”

  I knew he was going to hit me. I didn’t even bother to try to get out of the way. He popped me in the cheek just below my eye, sending me staggering.

  “I’m sorry, son, but I will not be disrespected. Not by you. Not by anyone. Besides, I already have a plan on who to give to the old man.”

  I was waiting for him to tell me who he meant when suddenly I understood. “You’re talking about giving him one of them,” I said, referring to the people rocking on the floor in front of me.

  “He didn’t say nothing about it having to be normal people. He just said it had to be one of us.”

  It took me a moment to digest what he’d said. On the surface, it made perfect sense. These “zombies” were, in many ways, already dead, their minds having been taken the moment they were touched by those energy orbs. They couldn’t protest being given to that devil any more than someone lying comatose in a hospital. And that’s what made it unacceptable.

  “No,” I said.

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “I mean, it’s unethical. You don’t sacrifice someone simply because they can’t advocate for themselves. That’s just wrong.”

  “Dammit, David! Why do you have to make everything so difficult? We’ve got enough people here to survive six invasions. That’s providing his demands remain the same—”

  “Oh, my God! You’ve got all this plotted out! No wonder we’re stuck in Purgatory. You’ve got no shame!”

  “Enough with the Purgatory crap! This is real life, and I’m not going to let your delusions stop me from saving this town!”

  So that was it. The line was drawn. My father and I were about to embark on two very different paths. Heart racing, I forced myself to look at the seven people rocking to and fro.

  “Wait a second,” I said. “I thought you said eight people were hit by the energy orbs.”

  “That’s right.”

  “So where’s the other one?”

  “The Scavenger took her.”

  My stomach tightened. “Who is it?”

  “Laurie.”

  I’d never experienced anger like that before. With tears streaming from my eyes, I ran outside, trying to remember where I’d left my gun.

  “David! David! Where are you going?”

  “Where is he?” I shouted.

  “He’s gone.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know.” My dad looked truly sorry, and he put his hand on my shoulder while I struggled to regain control of my breathing. “He left the night of the attack. I didn’t even know he’d taken her until the following morning. And you were already so injured, I thought I’d spare you the shock.”

  I slowly regained my composure and accompanied my dad back to his trailer. I didn’t stay long, just enough to down a shot of chikka, and then I grabbed my gun and Rosie to make the two kilometer trip back to the farm. My dad’s plan had backfired. He’d hoped the direness of our situation along with the shock of seeing the victims of the energy orbs would cause me to see things as he did. Instead, it reinforced what I already knew to be true. That old man was evil, and so were the aliens, and it was up to me to free the people of Harkness from their demonic hold. It wouldn’t be easy, but then, nothing worthwhile was.

  Chapter 4

  I spent the night hunkered down in the back, back fields, even farther than my farthest patch of beets. I wasn’t scared. Perhaps it was the chikka, but I felt completely at ease, and dropping an old blanket on the soil, I lay down while Rosie guarded the periphery. My plan was to speak with the whales, and I wasn’t disappointed. They were waiting for me, and I spent the night in communion with them, these angels of the deep, asking them what I should do. It was glorious, but also frustrating, as I couldn’t quite grasp what they were showing me. That was until the leviathan appeared, and then things were made suddenly clear.

  It was as I thought: the old man was the true threat to Harkness. And it was my jo
b to see him gone. They didn’t say how, they just told me there would be a reward waiting for me at the end. I wish I could have understood more, but they existed on a higher level, and there was only so much my poor brain could handle. And so I fell asleep, only to wake several hours later to Rosie barking excitedly at a trio of demons who were watching me from only a few yards away.

  Their eyes were that beautiful shiny black, and I sat up to light myself a cigarette.

  “I see you,” I said, with a smile.

  The demons responded with a string of clicks and whistles.

  “I wish I knew what you are. I always get the feeling that you know what’s going on. That somehow you know me. Well, whatever you are, you’ll be happy to know that I’m taking your appearance as a good omen. Me and Rosie have some difficult business to attend to and, well, I’m not even sure I’m coming back.”

  I stood up and rolled up my blanket, and with a final wave goodbye, Rosie and I boarded the tractor and made our way back to the farm, where I put some supplies in a knapsack and headed off to Harkness.

  The lack of direction from the whales was both disappointing and liberating. I’d hoped to be given a clear path to follow, yet without one I was free to make decisions on my own. And really, that suited me. I was never one for following instructions, just ask my dad. My greatest strength was my intuition, and my intuition was telling me that, for this quest to truly begin, I had to pay a visit to the warehouse on the edge of town.

  It sickened me what had happened to the people housed there. And it sickened me even more that my dad planned on using them as payment to the old man. While the whales never explicitly told me to put them out of their misery, I knew they wouldn’t object. And so, letting myself inside the warehouse, I shot each of them in the head before returning outside. It was surprisingly easy. They were free now. No more suffering, no more pain. And most importantly, they couldn’t be used as anyone’s pawns.

  I felt really good. Like that warm feeling you get when you know you’ve done something truly noble. But that all disappeared the moment I spied my dad hurrying along, carrying an armful of chikka.

 

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