The New Breed Chronicles Part 4
The Golem
© J.T. Lomasney 2015
http://jtlomasney.blogspot.com/
Also by the Same Author on Amazon.com
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Harry’s Story – an odd kind of supernatural detective story
Breed- a story of gruesome horror in the forests of Washington State
Chapter 31
As the plane touched down on the runway Father O'Connor looked anxious.
'Why so uneasy, Father?' Razmik asked.
The priest furrowed his brow further and said 'I hope Homer behaves.'
'You think he will cause trouble?' Adria asked.
'No, I don't. But with Homer you can never really be sure. I told him how important it was to stay still and sit quietly in that damned box. I told him not worry about any amount of shaking or rumbling but, like I said, you just never know with Homer.'
Razmik did his usual shrug and said, 'eh, even if he does break out it only becomes a problem if the authorities happen to be here and, you will have to trust me on this, that is very unlikely.'
'You're sure?' the priest asked.
Razmik held up his hands and said, 'no. I did not say that. I said it is very unlikely. We use this airport for moving lots of...um...merchandise, and we never have had a problem here. Well, other than the problem of paying for eyes to look the other way when we land.' Razmik did not meet the priests eyes while he spoke.
'You're very free in talking about your business, Razmik,' said the priest.
'I am not free at all. I have not said one word about what my merchandise may be,' the criminal overlord stared back at the catholic priest with a brazen smirk that was only skin deep. Below the smirk was a strange and burning shame that Razmik had not felt in a very long time. He had long ago reconciled himself with his way of life. But this had the vague feeling of a confessional.
'No,' agreed O'Connor, 'only that it requires bribery to get into the country. Tell me, when was your last confession Razmik?'
Razmik was speechless for a moment, his eyes frozen in a strange kind of dawning horror. Then O'Connor's face broke into a devilish smile, 'I'm joking. Don't worry so much about me, Razmik. I am not your typical priest. I don't consider myself much of a priest at all to be honest. I'm not here to judge. I have my own agenda to carry out. If that means carrying on with some questionable characters then I am sure my soul can bare another couple of black marks.'
Razmik smiled, feeling embarrassed in a boyish way that he could not explain. Maybe not embarrassed exactly, maybe he still felt judged, or shamed.
Razmik shrugged in an unusually emotive way, bringing his shoulders up to his ears, shaking off the tension he felt. He said, 'don't worry father, you are in good company. I won't always bother you with the details of the business I carry out but would you like to know what we have been moving through this airport?'
It was O'Connor's turn to look uncomfortable, 'I am not sure that I do...'
Razmik's face broke into a broad smile, 'Peppa Pig dolls.'
O'Connor said, 'what's a Peppa Pig?'
'An annoying little kid's show, but worth a fortune.'
'So, you have been importing unlicensed children's toys?'
Razmik's smile widened, 'yes! But exporting. You wouldn't believe the money that's to be made.'
'Toys? The Armenian criminal mastermind is dealing in children's toys?'
'From this airport, yes,' said Razmik. And crystal meth for the burgeoning market in Eastern Europe. Best, he thought, not to mention the meth. Not when part of the truth is so much nicer than the entirety.
The plane came to halt and Razmik got up from his seat, 'now, maybe we can continue this another time? I believe we have a gigantic ape monster to unpack.'
Ardia smiled at the priest and got up to follow Razmik to the door where the pilot spoke to them both in hushed tones. O'Connor sighed and got up, grabbed his luggage, which consisted of a large hard travel case and a duffel bag, and joined them.
The pilot stopped talking as O'Connor approached and looked searchingly at Razmik. Razmik waved him on, 'it's okay, he's okay.'
The pilot looked uneasy but continued speaking, 'there is some local assistance for you.'
'Our people?' asked Razmik.
'More or less,' said the pilot. 'They're local operators but more or less all of their business comes from you.'
'What are their names?' Razmik asked.
'The Kokourek Brothers. David and Marek.'
Razmik frowned, 'why does that name sound familiar?'
The pilot bobbed his head from side to side a little, as though he was trying to make up his own mind, 'well, you probably heard of them from a few years ago. They knocked off the crew that we had been dealing with here so they could work with you. They are small time in the area, the Russian gang is still the big player in Prague. The Kokoureks might have tried to come visit you once as well. Nothing bad, they're just kind of fans is all.'
Ardia snapped her fingers, 'that's right. I broke one of their collar bones because I thought they were assassins.'
The pilot nodded with pursed lips, 'yeah. That's right. They can be very enthusiastic. I don't think there's any bad feelings about that though. Or at least you shouldn't have anything to worry about. They might be a little excitable but, Razmik, they are all over you. They wanna impress.'
'Okay,' said Razmik, 'we'll see. We're going to need a little bit of local assistance while we're here. They'll probabably have to do.'
The pilot opened the door and O'Connor watched as two men pushed the ladder up to the plane. The two men were very similarly dressed to one another. They both wore leather jackets and blue jeans. They had very short cut blonde hair. One was big and strong looking, the other was short and wiry.
Razmik sighed and stepped onto the ladder with Ardia and O'Connor following close behind.
'Razmik!' the smaller of the two men called jovially, as though Raz was an old and familiar friend.
'Hello,' said Razmik.
'And Ardia, is good to see you,' the bigger man said. His English was heavily accented and a little uncertain. 'It has been long time since...', he trailed off while rapping his collar bone with his knuckles, smiling shyly.
'I see you more or less speak English,' said Razmik, 'that is good.'
Both faces lit up with delight and they practically fell over each other to respond to the compliment. The smaller man nodded his head vigorously and said, 'we know this something that please you. Is good for the business.'
'Yes,' said Razmik. 'Is good. Forgive me, but one of you is Marek and one is David but I don't know which is which.'
'Is okay, is okay,' said the smaller man eagerly, 'I am David and this is Marek. We very...um...uh...exceeted to help you with business in Prague.'
'Excited,' Razmik corrected the man.
Mistaking his meaning the big man slapped the smaller man on the back, 'he is ex-cite-ed as well. Is good day for Kokoureks.'
His brother smiled and nodded eagerly.
'Yes, well, you know Ardia. This man is Father O'Connor, a friend of ours. If you wouldn't mind we really need to get moving. Time is a factor.'
O'Connor tapped Razmik on the shoulder and whispered, 'and what do we do about Homer? Can we really show him to these two?'
Razmik chuckled softly, 'and why not Father? If they keep all the secrets about my merchandise and can be trusted to move it around then why shouldn't they know about Homer? It will make things terribly complicated if we have to cart him around i
n that gigantic crate.'
O'Connor looked uncertain but bobbed his head in acquiescence, 'I think Homer might be a much bigger and more difficult secret than a box of children's toys. But you know this world much better than I do.'
Turning to the Kokoureks, Razmik said, 'we have some cargo to unload from the rear of the plane.'
The Kokoureks looked excited at the prospect, David saying, 'we did not know there would be merch-an-dice.'
Razmik just smiled and dismounted the stairs.
Marek approached the crate with a crowbar but O'Connor stopped him and said, 'ah, it might not be best that a strange face be the first one peering into the crate. Eh, Razmik?'
Razmik agreed but looked as if a great joke had just been spoiled for him, 'yes, Father, you are right of course. Also, Marek and David, I presume you are carrying guns.'
'Yes,' said David, moving his jacket to reveal a handgun in a shoulder holster.
'Yes, well don't shoot,' said Razmik.
The two men look confused.
O'Connor approached the crate and rapped softly on the side and said, 'Homer?'
Homer responded from inside the massive box and his deep voice made the Kokoureks look at each other uneasily, 'yes, Father.'
'Are you all right?'
'Yes,' Homer's deep voice replied but he didn't sound completely certain.
'I am going to let you out.'
'I can let myself out.'
'Go ahead,' O'Connor said, stepping back.
The crate groaned gently for a heartbeat and then the heavy wooden lid popped free and flew into the air. It flew through the air and shattered into pieces on the tarmac twenty yards away. As soon as the lid came off the crate the hulking form of Homer emerged. He rose slowly from the concealment of the wooden walls, arching his back stiffly. He showed no tension but his eyes never left the Kokourek brothers.
'Who are they?' he asked. Without the crate to muffle him his voice resumed its earthy growl.
The two criminals were staring open mouthed at the creature that had just appeared to them. Big Marek unconsciously reached under his jacket for a weapon but the smaller David stopped him with a touch.
'What is it?' asked David.
Homer snorted, 'really Father? More people? And I am an “it” now?'
O'Connor shrugged, 'Razmik seems to think it will be easier this way.'
'Oh, well, considering our long relationship we have every reason to trust in his judgement. It's not as though he's the sort of man who meets a terrorist turned catholic priest and some strange “it” from the jungle and decides they would make pleasant travelling companions.'
Ardia bristled at this but Razmik sniggered and said, 'I think I will like you Homer. Come along now and let's get moving.'
Homer reached out a hand and crushed the wooden the section that stood between him and the others. It looked like a child tearing a sheet of paper. Less than that even, it looked like he had just moved his hand through the air with nothing to slow its movement.
David asked again, 'what is it?'
Homer turned his menacing little eyes to David and held up two gigantic fingers. David only looked perplexed by this gesture until O'Connor leaned in and said, 'that's two.'
David turned his look of confusion to the priest. O'Connor said, 'that's two times you have called him “it”. I don't think he will give you a third.'
David nodded slowly, dumbly, and looked back at the beast, 'what is he? What are you?'
The menace melted from Homer's face a little as he said, 'that is something that I hope this adventure may help answer.'
Chapter 32
The hospital room was cold and sterile looking. The fluorescent light on the ceiling hummed as it spewed harsh white light across the space. The old man in the bed could have been dead if not for the heart monitor hesitantly arguing the contrary. The man was so old and so wasted there was no perceptible rise and fall to his chest. He lay there, not asleep but not really awake, eyes half open and unfocused. Waiting.
The door to the room opened and the big Russian bodyguard stepped in. He told the old man, in Russian, 'you have a guest.'
The old man might have nodded in response. Equally it may have been a faint tremor. The guard took it as acknowledgement and stepped aside to let the guest in. The Golem was truly terrifying in the honesty painted by the bright white light. The skin was like the inside of a volcanic crater. Deep valleys ran between hard black plates. His skin looked as though it was composed of hundreds of lumps of coal buried in his flesh. His eyes were recessed deep in his face. They too were completely black.
The Golem shielded his face from the light when he stepped in. He shoved the guard and gestured urgently at the light. The Russian quickly turned off the wall switch and crossed the room in the faint light from the corridor to flick on a gentle night light.
The Golem removed his hand from his face and looked at the man, still squinting in residual pain.
'Sorry', the Russian said in English.
The Golem said nothing in return. He scowled and gestured with his head that the other man should leave. The Golem did not blink the entire time. Even when the light had burned into his brain he hadn't shut his eyes. He had no discernible eyelids.
When the man had left, the Golem turned his attention to the old man on the bed. As inert as he appeared the old man suddenly seemed a little less like a corpse now that the Golem had appeared. As withered as he was there was now a hint of awareness to the distant little face.
'I am sorry it has been so long, General,' the Golem said.
The old man emmitted a scratching rasp. His Adam's apple leapt wildly around his emaciated throat as he made the noise. There were words buried in there somewhere.
The Golem just looked at the man, no emotion on his crusted face. He pulled up a chair and sat down, 'the business is doing very well. I have a new supplier for methamphetamines lined up. It's good product, high quality and inexpensive.'
The monstrous creature just sat for a while after saying this. Though his face betrayed no emotion his hands were unsettled and wrestled with each other where they lay between his knees.
The Golem hunched forward, leaning a little closer to the old man.
'General, I need your advice.'
The old man made another wheezing noise, a sound reminiscent of a choking rooster.
The Golem nodded and said, 'I have been contacted by Troy. He is offering a fairly staggering sum to do a job for him.'
The old man made an excited, almost frantic gurgling noise.
'I know, I know. But there's no need to go near the old bastard. He wants me to find someone for him and there's a faint sense of destiny about it. A few days ago my boys encountered a yid who was poking around asking strange questions about the infamous Golem. They scooped the kike up. As it turns out he works for Razmik Arrajnord, you know, the Armenian slimeball who's obsessed with American culture? Yes, well, the Jew thought his connections to the all powerful Razmik would keep him safe while he went looking for me. We drilled him pretty fiercely before he told us how to reach Razmik so we could see what he was worth. Turns out the kachi piece of shit was in Manaus, in Brazil. And that's where it gets very interesting.'
The Golem stopped talking and took a long, slow look at the old man, trying to ascertain if he was really listening. The old man made an impatient sighing sound and the Golem nodded.
'It's funny. Troy contacted me looking for this creature in Brazil. He wanted me to go out there and catch the thing because nobody else seems to be able to. He said it had last been seen in Manaus.'
The Golem leaned back in the chair to wait for a response. When none came he leaned forward again and said, 'you don't think there's a connection? Razmik got one of his right hand guys out here hunting for one freak and he's off on the other side of the world where there just so happens to be another grade-A monster?'
The Golem waved his hands in frustration when the old man said nothing and drew a gold ci
garette case from his pocket. He tapped one of the cigarettes on the case and put it in his mouth and flicked open a Zippo lighter. Then he looked at the old man and back to the lighter. The gravelly skin around his eyes crinkled slightly, he flicked the lighter shut and threw the unlit cigarette across the room.
'I'm just saying. That's all. The greasy bastard has to know something and with what Troy is willing to pay me it might be worth giving the Jew back if I can just find out where this other thing is.'
The old man made another one of his sickened racking noises. This one sounded more like language than any of the previous noises had.
'What?' asked the Golem, leaning very close. 'Try again.'
The old man coughed with an intense violence that looked like it might kill him. Then he tried again. The words this time were a weak hiss. 'Be...careful. Razmik...don't underestimate...'
'And do you think it is safe to deal with Troy?'
The old man reached a shaking hand out towards the Golem. His hand moved so slowly and unsteadily across the space between them that it seemed as though it would never get there either because time would end first or because it would get lost on its way. Eventually though the wasted hand settled on the Golem's huge crusted knuckles.
'I trust...your judgement...too.'
The hand dropped away and the old mans head lolled to the side in exhaustion. Breathing shallowly the old man waved a weak arm, the hand flopping loosely at the wrist.
'Enough. Thank you... visiting.'
The Golem cracked a smile and got up from his chair. He crossed the room, stooping on his way to pick up his discarded cigarette. He knocked at the door and the Russian opened it. The Golem stepped out the door past the guard. When the door was closed again the Golem placed a hand on the Russians shoulder. He looked into the man's eyes and said earnestly, sincerely, almost gently, 'you take care of that old man.'
Chapter 33
The van rolled down the highway at an inauspicious speed. The Kokourek brothers sat up front with a wire mesh separating them from the rest of the travellers. Homer looked uncomfortable. Even the large van seemed to compress around his formidable bulk.
Episode 4: The Golem (The New Breed Chronicles) Page 1