by Shaun Meeks
The Skell’s shell of a body deflates as his essence is sent back to his pit of a world. I lift it up, just to make sure and watch as particles of dirt and grass rain down on the hallway floor. I drop it and try to stand up. My head is still spinning and I reach over and grab the wall. With my other hand, I reach up and touch where the junkie had hit me on my big old melon. When I pull my hand away, there’s blood on my fingers. Not too much, but enough to know I may need to patch it up. I’d go to the hospital and get stitches, but that might be more trouble than it’s worth. I’m sure they’d be confused by a few things when it comes to any test results or x-rays. I always keep a low profile, and for good reason.
My phone is ringing.
I wipe the blood off on my jeans and pull it out. Damn, it’s Rouge. No doubt she’s getting a little mad at this point.
“Hey, sorry,” I say right away before she can get a word in. “Had a little run in with some nasties when I got home. I swear I’ll be there soon.”
“Seriously? This is supposed to be a special night, Dillon.”
There it is. The frustration in her voice. We’ve never really had fights or anything close to arguments since we made this whole crazy thing official, but there are times where I’m sure she’s bordering on yelling at me. Times like this, I can’t blame her. I’m late getting home, and now this. I guess the patchwork will be next to nothing so I can get out of here fast.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be there really soon. And when you see what happened, maybe I can get a sympathy kiss.”
“You wish. You’ll be lucky if you get a high five tonight at the rate you’re going, buster. I guess it’s back to the old chips, chump.” At least I hear her chuckle a little as she says this.
We say our goodbyes and then I cautiously head upstairs. With each step my head is pounding as though a thrash metal band just started to play one of their extra-long, super loud sets. The light in the stairs is hurting my eyes a bit, but after a minute I manage to get into my apartment. I have to change quickly, but before I do, I grab some Advil and wash it down with a bit of cola. I found out years ago that taking ibuprofen with Coke or Pepsi really makes it work faster. I’m sure nine out of ten doctors would not agree, but to hell with them at this point. I’ve never needed quick relief like I need it now.
As I’m changing, I pull out an ice pack from the freezer and put it on the back of my head, wincing at the pain. It’s intense, but some of the throbbing goes down right away. That’s something. Another good thing is that my shoulder the junkie hit isn’t also cry-out in pain right now. I use a bandana to hold the ice pack in place and continue to change. I need to be fast if there’s going to be any chance of a good night. I know once she sees the injury, she will feel a little sorry for me, perhaps enough to make her frustration at me disappear.
I have to hope.
I’m changed and ready to go. I use a baby wipe to get rid of the blood and sweat on my hands, arms and face, letting it do the work of an actual shower. Not the classiest thing in the world, but better than going out with a layer of monster hunting filth caked on me. I’m not too ashamed to admit I have to do it from time to time, no more than I would be to say I’ve used the inside of my shirt to brush my teeth. I’m a busy hunter and desperate times call for desperate measures.
Before I head out the door, I go into the medicine cabinet and pull out some very special cream I have. Over the years I’ve managed to stockpile some good supplies to use whenever I get hurt a bit. I have items for stabs, gunshots, and even a near fatal mauling. What I pull out this time is more of a simple ointment that will stop the bleeding and dull the pain around the gash on my scalp. I’ll do more for it later. For now, this’ll have to do.
In my car I check the time. Good. It only took my five minutes to get ready and back out. It’s faster than I thought. I pull out and start to head towards Rouge’s house and turn on my Mp3 player. My car fills with the not so relaxing sounds of NOFX as I drive. At a red light I text Rouge and let her know I’m five minutes away, and if she wants she can come out and meet me in the driveway so we can get a move on the night. I end it with a well-deserved apology on my end. All I get back is the letter K.
Boy howdy is she upset.
She knows that my work is pretty serious. Hell, she was there on the beach when I faced off with a monster bigger than my building as it crossed dimensions using a Porter. She knows better than anyone how things can go insane when I head out to a call. So does that mean she doesn’t have the right to be irked? Not at all. This night isn’t just date night and I know it. We haven’t been out for a real date in over a month. I shouldn’t have even taken the job and I think when it comes down to it, that’s one of the biggest things getting to her. I know it would be a thorn in my side if she’d done the same. If she had taken a gig to work one of her burlesque shows instead of coming out with me tonight, I’d be right pissed too. She has every right to want blood.
She might get some too.
My head is aching again. I wish I had more Advil with me, or a knife I could use to carve out the asshole with the jackhammer that’s clearly trapped in my skull. I rub my temple with one hand and keep the other on the steering wheel. The aching is making me think about the Skell in the hall and what he’d said. It’s something I haven’t even been thinking of since he said it, but there it is. It could be he just wanted to live, wanted me to let him go, but the idea that there’s some organization out and who’ve put a price on my head is terrifying. If it’s true, that is. For all I know it’s just a load of crap and the Skell got lucky, crossing over into a building I lived in and got some junkie to attack me with the promise of drugs or money.
So my choices in this are: the Skell was lying or I have a lot to worry about. And what about the idea of these things trying to bring down the ones I answer to? Could they? Is the Authority actually vulnerable? I wouldn’t have thought so. I always looked at them as one of those Godly entities; the kind of all knowing, all seeing force that religious people follow. How could anyone attack them?
Worrying can come later. Up ahead I see Rouge at the edge of her driveway, waving at me. Through the pounding headache I smile and go to flick my lights at her since she won’t see me wave back. I reach over to do just that, but I suddenly can’t believe what I’m seeing.
There’s a tree in the road, and it looks like it’s running right at my car.
It’s not running, you’re speeding towards it. My inner self tells my stupid self, and before I can even hit the brake, I hit the tree on Rouge’s neighbour’s lawn and know this is going to be bad. I close my eyes and just accept the darkness I know is waiting for me. All I can do is hope it doesn’t kill me.
It’s one of those days.
Thursday
When I open my eyes, I know where I am and this Dillon is not a happy camper. It smells like antiseptic and death here. I can hear someone crying in the distance as my eyes struggle to focus. All I want to do is just get up and run. I hate hospitals. Even to visit one of them sucks, but to be admitted to one opens a whole new can of worms. If I’m ill or hurt, I have items in my apartment to deal with it. These items can even pull me from the brink of death. Nothing here in this hospital will help me. Of that I’m almost certain. I’ve been on the brink of death once or twice in my life and if I’d come to the hospital then, I wouldn’t be in this body any longer. All they would do is piss in the wind and hope for the best. What’s worse, is if they look too close at me, delve too deep into who and what I am, there are going to questions.
A lot of them.
Sure I look human on the outside, but I’m not of this world. I’m a Treemor, an alien to this world and even this universe. This body I’m in is one of many I’ve inhabited since coming to Earth so long ago. I’m pretty sure if they test me, they’ll be able to tell something’s rotten in the state of Denmark. It’ll raise a lot of eyebrows and then how long until I
become a guinea pig and pin cushion to doctors, scientists and eventually the government who will want answers to who or what I am? It’s the reverse alien probe.
Just thinking about the truth about me and this body right now makes me realize I need to sit Rouge down and have a talk with her. We’ve never really gone into it all. The whole who I am, my true age and the facts about my current physical form have just never come up. I don’t want to keep secrets from her; it’s just a tricky subject to get into. Well, if things don’t hit the fan while I’m here in the hospital I guess we’ll have a talk when I get home.
“You awake?”
My eyes are still unfocused, but I can hear Rouge ask me, her voice drifting towards me from my right. I slowly turn my head and confirm it’s still pounding. I wince and nod before I blink a few times to clear my vision. It’s nice when she’s the first thing I get to see, even if I don’t fully get how I got here.
“I was starting to get worried. The doctor thought you might’ve slipped into a coma.”
“How long was I out for?” I ask, and can see her face a little better now.
“About sixteen hours.”
I feel like I’ve been hit again when she says it. Sixteen hours out. That’s a record for me. “Jeez. Sorry about the scare, and the night. I guess the junkie hit me harder than I thought.”
“What junkie?” she asks, and puts her hand on mine. “I thought you were going after one of your regular jobs last night.”
“I was,” I say, and then explain about the attack in the stairwell. I leave out the whole part of what the Skell said about the organization, figuring it’s nothing she needs to be concerned about. I’m not even sure I should care too much. These things that cross over aren’t always the most truthful of beings. “I guess when he hit me he gave me a slight concussion. I really didn’t think it was that bad. Head was throbbing, but I could see fine and I made sense when I called you, I think. The last thing I remember was a tree running at my car, and then I woke up here.”
“That’s not what happened, Dill. You flicked your lights at me when I waved to you, and then jumped the curb and ran at one of my neighbour’s trees. If you’d been going faster or didn’t have your seatbelt on, I doubt we’d be talking right now.”
I nod, but don’t go into it. Even if I had died in this body, I still would’ve been able to talk to her. Sure, she might not believe it was me at first, but she’d come around to knowing it was me eventually. Accepting it, well, that’s another story I guess.
The door to my room opens up and as it does, I see a familiar face. It’s not one I expected, but since it’s a friendly face I’m happy to see it.
“Mind if I drop in for a second, Miss?” he asks from the doorway, looking right at Rouge.
Rouge turns to me and no doubt sees me smiling. I look up at her and nod. “He’s an old friend.”
“Well then, you’re the first friend of Dillon’s I’ve met to date,” she says with a smile.
“Dillon doesn’t play well with others. If you are close to him I’m sure you know that, Miss,” he says, and walks in and heads over to where we are.
“I do. And enough of the miss business, just call me Rouge,” she tells him, not even bothering with the name she was born with. She never does. She doesn’t even like me calling her by it.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Father Ted.”
“Father?” she asks, and she comically moves back as if struck. “As in Dillon’s dad or a priest?”
“Priest. I’m not wearing my collar right now because I just had an x-ray, so I’m hopping around here like a virtual hobo. I do apologize.”
“Oh stop it, Ted,” I say, and sit up so I can see him better. “You’ve always hated wearing the collar. You told me so yourself. No need to lie in the house of pills and machines that go beep.” I look up at Rouge who’s smiling at the man. “He’s a Catholic priest, so he’s a bit jaded and snarky at times. Which means you should make fast friends with him.”
“You watch it, Dill,” she says, and squeezes my hand. “Or I’ll give them a reason to keep you here for a few more days.”
I get the point and turn back to Ted. “How did you know I was here?”
“I was just walking through the halls, on my way out, and ran into a detective who attends my church. When I asked him what he was doing here, he said he was stopping by to see some half-wit detective that claims to hunt down monsters and demons, so I knew it was you. He said you’d been drinking and driving and nearly killed some people. Since I’ve known you for so long, I asked him to let me talk to you first, assuming the story was wrong. Please tell me it’s wrong.”
Drinking and driving—is that what they think? I guess they might. Who knows what my blood test results came back as. There’s not a whole lot of natural order flowing through this body. For all I know, the blood in this body could easily show up as someone with a high blood alcohol level, or it could even give results that there’s no living cells in it. I have no idea. This is the first time I’ve ever been unlucky enough to end up in a hospital without being conscious. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see what they have to say about it.
“They’re very wrong. I had a concussion. I was smacked pretty good in the back of the head by a junkie of all things.” I explain to him the details as best I can, giving him the same story I gave to Rouge and leaving out the same little bit. I’ve known the priest for a long time and I don’t need to pull any punches with Father Ted. His church has been a source of work for me even before he started working there. It’s one of those places, a sort of crossroads for different realms and dimension. Houses of faith tend to be like that. Anywhere people gather and pour their hopes and faith creates weak spots in the fabric of this reality. It’s the same where great tragedies happen, though in the latter cases the weak spots are closer to the places where demons live. It’s one of the strangest parts of how this realm works.
“Well, I think it’s an easy thing to explain to the detective. I know he’s not going to buy into what you do, but since it was a junkie who did this, you may want to leave the rest of it out. Tell him about the attack, but not the…Skell was it? Just to be on the safe side, Dillon.”
I know he’s right. Ridged people tend to have a very hard time when it comes to hearing about the world outside this one. Or worse yet, the hidden one that lives right under their noses. Most people would rather live their lives as happy and as blissful with their heads in a cloud of ignorance, without the knowledge they aren’t alone in this world. Sure, they pray to a higher power or look to the sky and hope one day they’ll see an alien, but when they find out these things are real, that something exists outside the world they know or see on TV, it drives them mad. I’ve dealt with the police before, and many of them live in a world of black and white, right and wrong, truth and lies. Trying to explain to them how there’s so much they don’t know or can’t comprehend is a little like explaining quantum physics to a toddler.
All you get is a dumb look and drool.
Father Ted excuses himself and says he’s going to call the detective in. As soon as he’s out the door, Rouge turns to me and I see fear in her eyes.
“This isn’t good, Dill,” she says, and I can hear the tinge of panic in her voice.
“How so?”
“What if they check your apartment, or find out you’re not even human. They could, right?”
“Yeah, I guess,” I tell her, wishing more than ever that I’d explained to her more about me than I have; although I’m pretty sure she’d worry even more in that case. At least I’ve told her I’m not human. Well, I didn’t really tell her. She heard the Hellion say it to me as he went about trying to kill me. I just admitted to it after the fact. I think that still counts though.
“You crashed your car on my neighbour’s lawn. Normally not a big thing, but if they investigate you, aren’t you worrie
d what they could find? Seriously, you have a pretty messed up life.”
“Don’t stress out, Rouge. I’ve dealt with the cops before. Heck, I’ve even worked with them on cases. This will be no big deal.” Well, I hope it won’t. I give her a smile and hope it’s convincing, but the fact is I’m not all that sure it’ll be cut and dry. Sometimes, especially with certain types of law enforcement, you never can tell.
Less than a minute after Father Ted left, he’s back, this time with a very stern faced man in an inexpensive suit. It’s not cheap or ill fitting, but you can tell he’s paid by the government somehow by the look of it. The man’s hair is dark brown as are his eyebrows which are currently pushing down on his eyes as he gives me the once over. I’ve seen that same glare before, people who think I’m full of shit, the ones who call me despite the fact that they don’t believe what I do is real. It’s as though he’s holding a sign in front of him that says I’m not going to make this easy for you.
When he turns his attention to Rouge, that hard look softens a bit and it’s no wonder. People tend to take a look at her and see a walking bombshell. I see it all the time when we go out, eyes turning to her, many linger for longer than they should. They see the red hair, the pale skin, the hourglass figure and the very ample breasts and it’s as though they can’t control themselves. Males gawk, and so many women sneer. Rouge once laughed as a woman stared at her cleavage and made the nasties face at the sight, and asked the stranger if that grimace was because she was lactose intolerant. It was funny at the time, and usually I can just let it all slide. Not always though. Some days it really irks me. Not because they stare. To look at something nice or lovely is natural. It’s the fact that so many only see her as a gorgeous woman and they have no idea that her beauty is only a small part of how amazing she really is. Her looks pale in comparison to how amazing and sweet she really is.