by Dan Glover
These kids... that's why they stayed. If they left, they'd keep right on dying. Could anything be done to put an end to the carnage? Possibly. Or more likely they'd only make things worse. Still, to run away and do nothing wasn’t on the table.
Hank Lupo surprised him. Oh, he knew the man wasn’t always by the book. He'd heard the rumors of his involvement with various cover-ups over the years. But he was a deputy sheriff with one of the largest police forces in the United States and with that came a certain amount of responsibility, or so he thought.
"You and Liza get some sleep, Danners. I'm beat. When I wake up I'll talk to Bernie about this knife. Can I keep it?"
"Sure, Hank. Be careful, though. Could be people might come looking for it."
He didn’t want to wake Liza by getting out of bed. His watch on the nightstand said it was just a little before noon and he had to take a wicked shit, though, so wriggling out of her arms he padded to the bathroom.
Why would Hank want to show that knife to Bernice Cooper? Reilly had never said exactly what it was his mother did for a living but Danners gathered it wasn’t anything of an intellectual nature like a curator of a museum or a professor of ancient artifacts. Well, he'd finish pinching a loaf, go out and rustle up some grub, and be back before Liza woke. Or maybe he shouldn’t leave her alone. Something told him they were being watched even now.
His phone buzzed. A text from Hank just came in. 'Meet us at Tomalin's in one hour. I'm buying breakfast. Got news you'll want to hear.' Good. That'd give him time to shower. Maybe he ought to wake Liza first. Yeah. She'd be pissed if he waited till the last minute. The girl needed a little time to fix herself before going out to meet and greet the public.
"Danners? Are you in there?"
"I am... be right out, sweetie."
"Take your time... have we heard anything from Hank?"
"Just got a text from him. He wants to meet for breakfast in an hour."
"Well, hurry your skinny ass up, then, DanMan. I need to shower before we go."
"Come on in, lover. I'll wash your back if you do mine."
"You flushed, right?"
God, how well they knew each other. How many married couples were so open about their little private rituals? Not many. But then again, what the hell did he know about married couples? Not much.
"It's safe, Liza. No gas mask required."
Courtesy flushes were a must with Liza McNairy. He'd learned that lesson ages ago. And the thought of her wet skin next to his never failed to excite the man buried deep below the queenly surface he showed to the world. Did she know that? Probably. But neither of them seemed inclined to take that next step. Ah... but what of it.
2
"Bernice! It's wonderful to see you again."
"Hello, Danners. Good to see you too... and Liza! Hi!"
"Hey Bernice! What... burritos for breakfast, Hank?"
"Hey... this is Mexico, Liza... we're lucky to get breakfast at all at one o'clock in the afternoon. Sit down and we'll order."
"So what's this news you texted me about, Hank?"
"Bernie... you want to tell them?"
"Hank showed me that knife of yours, Danners. It's called a tramontina down on the bayou where I grew up. That sort of knife is used in voodoo rituals... to stab an effigy of the person you want to hurt or to kill. The pommel's a dead giveaway. The demon head goes all the way back to Africa. That's where the knife draws its power from. This particular demon is one of the nasty ones. You don't want to name it. If you do, you'll draw the demon to you."
"How do you know all this, Bernice?"
"Fifteen years of living on the bayou in Louisiana, sweetie. I grew up around that shit. I tell you certain, Liza... if I knew any of this was going on in Santo Tomas, I never would've come here. Now if ya'll got any sense, you'll be packing your bags right when we're done and head for home. Don’t no one want to get messed up with whatever the hell is going on in that church."
"They're killing kids, Bernice."
"And that's a shame and a tragedy, Danners. It surely is. But those vaqueros will be planting you right along with those children. Mark my words. Leave it be. Go home."
"But doesn’t a person have to believe in the power of voodoo for it to work, Bernice?"
"After what you've seen, Liza, can you honestly say you don't believe? See... voodoo is a religion just like Christianity. People say they're atheists... that they don't believe in no God. But put them same people in the middle of a ghetto on a dark night with the sound of gunfire all around and like as not they'll start believing real fast. We all have latent feelings washing around inside us, sort of like seeds waiting and looking for a time and place to sprout. Oh, you can say you don't believe all you want, but fact of the matter is, ain't none of us got a choice in the matter."
He didn’t know about Liza but he sure believed some weird ass shit was going on. Seeing Elena in the graveyard last night was the capper. He'd gone over the encounter a million times... had it really been her? Yes... indubitably. He was as close to her as he was to Bernice right now and though it was dark in that cemetery, he was positive he talked to Elena Stamper. It wasn’t until later that he learned she'd been dead for three hours that he realized the import of their meeting.
"Have you ever seen a ghost before, Liza?"
"No... and we didn’t see one tonight either, DanDan."
"But Elena Stamper told us..."
"Look, Danners... I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face in that cemetery. Neither could you. Come to think of it, I couldn’t say for sure if that really was Elena Stamper or not. But once I found out she was dead, well, I knew it had to be someone else."
"But if it was someone else, how would she know Hank's name... and Reilly's?"
"I don’t know, DanBoy. You tell me. You're supposed to be the psychic. Do your stuff, big boy."
3
The knife felt warm in his hand after Bernice gave it back. Like it'd been inside an oven or perhaps setting outside in the hot sun. Not so hot he couldn’t hold it but warm enough to garner his attention. Was it the material it was made of? And if so, what type of metal would heat up of its own accord? None that he knew of, unless it was radioactive. Did uranium exhibit that property? He didn’t think so. And besides, uranium would be heavy, like lead.
He had half a mind to listen to Bernice... to get the hell out of Dodge and leave the peasants to Fletch and his minions. That was the easy way out. Who cared any longer? No one. They could go back to Los Angeles and forget this place.
On the other hand, what if they were followed? For all he knew, whatever portents were wrecking havoc in Santo Tomas could do the same anyplace on the planet. Running away might not do a bit of good.
Come on, Danners... you don’t believe in any of this shit. But a part of him did. The little boy part that he kept hidden away. That part believed in all sorts of magic... otherwise, what the hell was he doing here in the first place?
"I have something else I'd like to show you, Bernice."
He wasn’t sure why he carried that sack of marbles down to the cantina today but something nagged at him to put them in his pocket before they left the cabin. If Bernice Cooper was any sort of an adept at all, which he highly doubted, the woman might get the same sort of vibes that he was getting off those marbles.
"What is that you got there, Danners?"
"Just take a look for yourself, Bernice."
"Why, it's nothing but an old sack of marbles. Say... I like this one, Mr. Forthright. Where'd you get these... at some booth hereabouts?"
"No... Elena Stamper gave them to me."
"Elena... that's the girl you were hanging around... wasn’t it, Reilly? Where'd she get off to? I sorta liked her."
"She had to go back to San Diego, mother."
"Why would Elena Stamper give you an old sack full of marbles, Danners? That don’t make no sense."
"They belonged to her brother. That's why we're here, to find out what happened to Eduar
do Ramirez. Elena Stamper hired us."
What the hell was he thinking? Bernice Cooper wasn’t a seer. Hell, if she was, the woman wouldn’t have lived in a ghetto half her life. She just had a big mouth and a lot of opinions she thought were worth sharing, just like everyone else in the world.
Maybe this place really was getting to him. Here he was, sitting at a cantina in Mexico when he ought to be halfway home by now. Liza all but begged him to leave last night. Hank and Reilly both agreed they should pack up and go. And now Bernice was giving the same advice. So what was holding him here?
The children. Not only the ones already dead, but those soon to be. But were they worth the life of Liza McNairy? No... hell no... he'd trade the lives of a million kids for simply the chance to save Liza... a billion.
This was his chance to get it right... to end the charade he'd been playing most all his life... and what was he doing? He was throwing it away. The others meant well... all of them. Hank had their best interests in mind, his and Liza's. Bernice Cooper too. Reilly was right... they should leave today... all of them. And Liza couldn’t agree more. So why was he dragging his feet? Ghosts... it had to be the ghosts.
"Let me see that knife again, Danners."
"Sure... here you go, Bernice."
"Now take my hand."
"I'm not sure I want to..."
"Take it! I won't bite. Just ask Hank."
"I know that, Bernice. I'm apprehensive of what I might see if I touch you."
"Is he always this catty, Liza?"
"Danners? You have no idea, Bernice. Take her hand, lover. Don't be scared. I'm right here for you... here... I'll hold your other hand."
4
The volcano beneath his feet erupted... not catastrophically, like Mount St. Helens back in 1980, but slowly and magnificently, like Kilauea in Hawaii, belching forth all the pent up magma like slow motion vomit, hot and sickly.
They were standing together, him and Bernice, only she was no longer simply the mother of a friend. Instead, she was a high priestess waiting for her next victim, and he was the one offering himself up for the greater good of the tribe. The knife gripped in her left hand dripped blood.
They were both naked yet that seemed natural enough, given the circumstances. Just as he was ready to give himself over, so was she. That was all part of the ritual, and the consummation of the act entailed watching as his heart was ripped from his chest at the moment of climax.
The child born of this union would be groomed to become the next great leader of the people, one who would lead the tribe away from the darkness of hate and fear that heretofore precluded any meaningful advances and instead towards a better life, one of healing and compassion.
It didn’t occur to him how he knew any of this, nor did he feel any fear... only a sense of anticipation. His entire life had led up to this moment. He could see each memory lying behind him like a ribbon in the sand... stretching out before him he witnessed countless intersecting lines all of them leading to infinite possibilities and yet forever running together again.
Just before their bodies touched a sparked leaped between them, an electric arc blue and amazingly potent knocking him backwards into the now disheveled ribbon of his previously well-ordered life.
"What happened, Liza?"
Why was he lying on the floor with people standing over him staring down with something in between concern and hilarity marking their faces? Did they really find any of this funny?
"It's okay, Danners... you passed out."
"Bernice?"
"She's over here on the other side of the room. Jesus, Danners... when you two went to touch hands, a spark flew between you. Static electricity, I guess."
"We were together were at some sort of ceremony, Liza... "
"No... you couldn’t have been You two never left the room."
"She was a priestess. She was holding that knife I found at the church. I was her intended sacrifice... but first we had to make love... that was all part of the ritual."
"DanDan... you must have hallucinated all of it after the shock you received.
"How long was I out, Liza?"
"Only a few seconds... maybe not even that long."
"Danners? Are you okay?"
Bernice appeared over him flanked by Reilly and Hank on either side. He hadn’t realized how extraordinarily beautiful the woman was. Had she been twenty years younger she'd rival Liza. Like in that vision he'd just had...
"I think so, Bernice? You?"
"What did you see? Was I with you?"
"Yeah... you were. Don't you remember?"
"No... all I can recollect was reaching out to take your hand. The next thing I knew I was waking up on the floor."
5
"Come on, Danners... let's get you up on your feet. Are you okay, sweetie?"
"I'm fine, Liza. Give me just a moment."
Something prowled around the edges of his consciousness... a memory... a long repressed desire, dormant for thousands of years... a realization that what had been meant to happen never did. Was that why they all ended up here in Mexico? He didn’t believe in any of that life after death bullshit. When someone died, that's exactly what they did. They winked out of existence.
On the other hand... what if? No... don't even go there, Danners. You were never with Bernice Cooper in a former life... like Liza said, it was a hallucination... an after effect of the shock you received. But how the hell did they both acquire enough static electricity in their bodies to knock each other ten feet across the room?
It was that knife. He didn’t know how he knew that, but it was a certainty. The goddamned thing wanted them both dead. They'd held it in their hands before. Countless ages ago, back at the dawn of civilization, when they were supposed to come together and create a child capable of leading humanity out of the darkness. Only it never occurred.
So what the hell was he supposed to do with that tidbit of enlightenment? Was he supposed to screw Bernice? Was that the answer? Was that why she seemed so desirable? And even if they did do the nasty, what then? She was more than likely past the child bearing age and hell he didn’t even know if he could manage the deed in the first place.
"Should I call a doctor, Danners?"
"No, sweetie... it's just that I can almost see it... "
"The natives are getting restless, Danners. We best be making our way out of here."
"Bernice is right, lover. Let me help you up."
"Natives... why did you say that, Bernice? You do remember, don't you."
"Remember what, Danners?"
"We were... oh, never mind. Yes, I could use a hand, Liza... thank you."
6
You folk are lucky. You have no idea what it's like... to touch something—someone—and suddenly know all the sordid history wrapped up in the awareness of that single moment. Did I say I was afraid, Liza? No. I said apprehensive. There's a reason why I chose that word and you of all people should understand that. Yet here you are, belittling me right along with everyone else.
Is it fun? Is that why you do it? Hey, everyone! Let's cut down Danners Forthright today. Maybe if we try really hard we can get him to cry... or at least frown a lot. Not to worry... he's such a pansy ass that he'll never fight back. Mock him. Hurl derisive insults at his appearance, the way he dresses, how he walks. Do it quietly and yet just loudly enough he's sure to hear.
Maybe I didn’t want to take your fucking hand for a reason, Bernice. Your life is full of shit. I see that without touching you. But guess what? So is mine. And one thing I don’t need is another load of crap piled on top of it. Christ, it's hard enough as it is to get out of bed. Why do you think I sleep till noon every day?
"Excuse me... I have to use the facilities."
About the time he thought he was fitting in... whammy! Let them all fuck themselves. He'd slip out the side door, go do what needed doing, and be back before any of them suspected he was gone. Dammit though... Bernice still had the knife. Without it, his plan was
useless. Hell, the odds were he'd fail even with it. Hank would have to ride to his rescue again.
Jesus, he was tired. Up all night and too little sleep this morning. Maybe he'd sit on the john and close his eyes, just for a second. He'd developed the knack for sleeping sitting up during his stint in the army and he still used it to grab a wink or two when the need arose.
"Anything new to report on the case, Mr. Forthright?"
Why was Elena Stamper in the men's room? Had she followed him in without his noticing? Or was she already waiting for him? But how would she know that he'd be here?
"I thought you were dead, Ms. Stamper."
"Who said I'm dead?"
"Reilly Cooper and Hank Lupo... they told me you overdosed on heroin."
"I have no memory of that, Mr. Forthright. Tell me, do you often interact with dead people?"
"Never. Well... let me qualify that, Ms. Stamper... not while I'm awake."
"What makes you think you're awake now?"
"I was just having breakfast with my friends."
Danners... you're weak. Tell the nice girl how you really know you're awake. Show her what you do to yourself to keep from dreaming. Admit it. You're a fraud. You spend your life bamboozling others but you can never fool me and you know it.
"Shut up."
There's nothing wrong with enjoying pain, Danners... especially the pain of others. How many people have you killed? Have you ever told anyone how much you revel in dealing out death? Elena Stamper will understand. Tell her.
"Be quiet."
"Do you want me to leave, Mr. Forthright? You seem preoccupied."
"No... yes... wait a minute. I don’t understand what you're doing here, Ms. Stamper."
"You need to know something and I'm here to show you what."
"Why does that frighten me?"
Because you're a cunt, Danners Forthright. You've always been worthless. Good for nothing. I should've aborted you... I tried, you know. Twice.
"Shut up, mother. You're not really here."