by Shaun Meeks
“So they’re dead,” she says quietly when I’m done. “What about the kids? Are they dead too?”
“I have no idea,” I tell her, but to be honest, I have to assume they are. Why else take the kids at all. “I hate to say it, but I think they might be.”
“But you’re not sure, right? You didn’t see them dead?”
“No, but assuming they took them as food, I’m placing my bets on the fact that they must be dead.” It sounds terrible coming out of my mouth and I regret the tone almost right away. I’m clearly not in the best of moods and really, I’d rather have a nap than talk about it. “Sorry, that came off as jerky. It’s not something I want to think about. I hate the idea of them being dead, but why else take them if not to kill them?”
“To get to you, stupid!”
“Why to get to me?” I ask. “How would they know taking kids would draw me out?”
“Well, it did. And you said the person with them, the one who called out to you, seemed to have known who you were, right?” I nod. “Then, who’s to say this wasn’t all a ruse to get you there in the first place.”
“It doesn’t feel right, that’s why,” I tell her, and in all honesty it doesn’t. “There’s way too many things that had to come together to get me there in the first place. I wouldn’t have met Detective Garcia if I hadn’t gone to the hospital, so I needed to be attacked first. Then, whoever set this up had to assume I would be willing to break all sorts of laws that govern me on this planet. They’d also have to hope that Garcia would believe me enough in order to go down into the sewer with him. That’s a whole lot to bring together.”
“Sure, but that’s assuming there’s no other play after that. You said the monsters didn’t chase you out, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, why not? Why didn’t they run you down and take you out right then and there? There were three of them, plus whoever’s controlling them, yet there was no pursuit. Sounds like there were no plans to kill you right then and there at all. It’s more like they wanted you down there to see what you were up against and terrorize you, more than anything else. Or they have something worse planned for you, God forbid. Is someone pissed off at you?”
Everyone’s pissed off at me, but I don’t say it. I’m sure by now Rouge already knows it. What she said makes sense too. Maybe this all has to do with the attack in my stairwell after all. Look at it all separately, and nothing makes sense. As I lay each piece of this out beside the next, it’s starting to make an actual picture and I don’t like it at all.
“So, you think there’s going to be more to this?” she asks me, and I nod and reach over to grab my laptop. “What are you doing now?”
“Trying to see if I can find out what I saw down in the sewers. I thought it was going to be that Golgotha I told you about, but it wasn’t.”
“So it wasn’t the shit demon?” she says, and chuckles a little. I raise my eyebrow. “Didn’t I kind of say it sounded weird and unlikely? I mean, it’s something that’s been in a movie.”
“As usual, you’re right. Now I have to try and do something to figure out what it really is and I have one idea of how to do it. Not that I look forward to the idea.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Well, what are your plans for tomorrow?” I ask, and the thought brews a little more in my head, a plan that may be the best way to get some answers.
“Not much, why?”
“I was thinking about going window shopping tomorrow and I’d love you to come along.”
“Is this work related?”
“Yeah, but don’t worry. This won’t be hands on.” I tell her, though I’m not so sure about that. With the way my days have been going as of late, I could be walking into a nightmare or a fight for my life. I have to hope that it will be neither though. Something’s got to go right for me one of these days. Even a broken clock is right twice a day.
“Even if it was, I’d come along,” she tells me, and kisses my cheek. “Someone’s got to protect you from the big bad wolf.”
Sunday
We take public transit today. I’m not a huge fan, but with Rouge coming along, it’s not so bad. This is what I’m thinking up until the moment a woman is across the aisle from me, clipping her fingernails as though she’s in her own bathroom. Seriously! I have to bite my tongue as little bits of nail fly off into the air and shower the floor near me feet. I want to yell, or get Rouge to go slap her, but decide it’ll just make the day start off on a bad foot. Better to let it just roll off my back and ignore it as though—
A nail hits my cheek. No, ignoring this won’t work.
“Excuse me, miss,” I say, and bit back my rage and disgust. I wish I had some hand sanitizer on me so I could rub the spot raw, but I don’t. Rouge whispers my name and puts a hand on me and for her sake I’ll be as kind as I can with the woman. “One of your little clippings there just hit my face.”
“Sorry.”
“Yeah, sorry is for when you bump into someone by accident, or throw away a newspaper someone was reading. Sorry doesn’t cover this.”
She just sits there clipping her nails and staring at me while she does. “Well, what would you like me to do then?” she asks with this indignant smirk on her face, and I suddenly want to use her face as a mop to clean the floor up. I decided to be the bigger person and let my words to the bitch slapping.
“How about we start with you putting those nail clipper away and you stop spreading your biohazard around as though this bus is your personal bathroom. Do that kind of crap at home. This is public transit, not your own car or house.”
“Maybe I don’t have—”
“Manners? Oh, I can see you don’t have any of them. Your mother must be so proud,” I say, and I know I’m getting worked up now, but I can’t help it. “Look around you. Do you see anyone else clipping their nails? Hey, maybe you want to pull out your insulin and give yourself a shot in public too, rest your used needle on the seat, because you paid your fare. After this are you going to pull out a pumice stone and shave your feet down a little? That would be sweet too.”
I guess she’s had enough. She gathers her belongs and rings the bell. Or maybe this is her stop. I think about calling out and telling her she forgot her nail clippings, but at this point I’m just glad to see her go. It appears the rest of the bus is too because many are either laughing or quietly cheering as she departs. I can’t imagine anyone finding what she was doing to be an okay thing. I turn to Rouge and see she’s blushing slightly and I’m worried I embarrassed her. I’m still not an expert in this whole dating thing and I hope I haven’t stepped over a line.
“Sorry about that,” I say, and place my hand on hers. She doesn’t pull it away and I’m guessing that’s a good thing. “I didn’t mean to go off like that. It’s just I was kind of grossed out there.”
“I don’t blame you. I just don’t like confrontations. Especially in public is all. Still, I’m sure if it hit me I would have gone all biblical on her and brought the wrath of my Scottish heritage down on her.”
“Wrath of the Redheaded Rager!” I joke.
We laugh at that and just start shooting the shit for a bit. It’s a bit of a long ride, but time can fly when the two of us talk. Eventually, the conversation gets to the incident in the sewers yesterday.
“So, do you still think those symbols are a way to lead those monsters to the victims, or are they something else?” she asks quietly in case anyone close by might overhear the conversation.
“I don’t know anymore. After what you said last night, I’ve had a new thought. If this whole thing was about getting to me—and I’m not saying it is—maybe the symbols weren’t to guide the monsters to the kids and back to the sewer. Maybe it was to get me to follow them. Could be those symbols were nothing more than a lure to catch my dumb ass.”
“Or maybe they
’re like the cave drawings cave people used to do before. They might tell a story or something. Is it just a symbol?”
“It is. They’re the same one over and over again, so it’s nothing like the cave people. Besides, I think those old cave drawings are being given too much credit than they deserve.” I see the confused look on her face and I smile. “Well, anthropologists think humans lived in caves back in the day, but maybe that’s because the types of homes they made didn’t last through the ages. Maybe their homes were more like huts, just wood and straw; something more arcane than what was used closer to the Egyptian type architecture. That type of structure would just blow away over the millennia.”
“What does that have to do with the drawings?”
“Well, we think they lived in there, those dark, dank places and drew on the walls as a way to tell tales and pass on history. What if it wasn’t anything more than the fact that they used the caves as toilets? Seeing as they had no plumbing back then, it could be the art is just bored men and women doodling while they do their business. No different than today really. Back then they drew woolly mammoths and hunters, now they draw boobs, penises and tell people who to call for a good time. Makes sense to me.”
“So,” Rouge says, and I can see her biting back a chuckle, “you think that the old cave drawings are just toilet art?”
“Why not? I mean, their diet would have been seriously rough and they’d spend a fair bit of time in the old thoughtful squat. Why not draw a pretty picture of his or her day while they wait. It’s not like there were books kicking around back in the day, so they couldn’t just bare down and read a chapter or two.”
She wants to laugh out loud and that’s good. After my little outburst on the finger clipper, it’s nice to bring some levity. Seeing her laugh is always a treat, especially when it’s a good, hearty one. She makes the most adorable sounds when she’s really having a good time. And even though she’s holding back the roar, it’s nice to see the sweet smile on her face.
And just like that, we’re at our stop.
I ring the bell and we get off. No applause for us, though. I haven’t told Rouge where we’re going yet, but I feel like I should tell her now that we’re coming up on it. She met the man once, picking up a few things for me, but I’m not so sure she’ll remember the place.
“Why didn’t you tell me we were going to Godfrey’s?”
Apparently I’m wrong.
“I didn’t want to spoil the surprise,” I say and smile, but she sees right through it.
“Wait a second. Didn’t you tell me last night that he wanted to kill you because you were getting involved in this? Didn’t you say he came at you and you had to fight him off? Now we’re going to stroll in there, say hello and hope all is forgiven? That sounds like a really bad idea, Dill. What do you hope to get out of it?”
“He knows more than he’s letting on. He said the symbol was for that shit demon, but it wasn’t. Godfrey’s not likely to make a mistake like that, so why tell me that at all? Maybe he knows what’s down there and thought he’d be able to scare me off the case by claiming this was some earthbound demon.”
“So you think he did it because you’re a rule follower?” she asks, and I can hear the snark and I totally see her point. She’s right. He knows I’m not one for the rules. If I was I wouldn’t be dating her, would I? “You know that doesn’t make a lick of sense, right?”
“Well, I guess we’re about to find out, right?”
I push open the door for Godfrey’s only it doesn’t move. It’s locked. That’s not normal seeing as I don’t think the man has ever actually locked the place up. I stupidly try again, as if it’ll make a difference, but it’s still locked.
So why now? Damn it.
“Well, unless you know how to pick a lock, my lady, I’m guessing this is a dead end.”
“What makes you think I can’t?” she asks, and brushes past me. “You know, there are many a time when we performers have to jimmy doors open to get into change rooms some asshat has locked. Lucky for me, one of the old greats who used to work in the city, Miss April March, showed me a wonderful trick with a key and a bobby pin.”
“Let’s see it then,” I say, and move in to get a better look.
“Step back, rookie. My trick is not for newbies like you. This is an ancient secret you must earn to learn. Plus, I like the idea of big bad monster hunter needing my help from time to time.”
She hovers over the lock, shifts her back so it’s impossible for me to see and within seconds pushes the door to the store open with the familiar jingle I know so well. We go in quickly and I lock the door once inside. I’m impressed and let her know.
“All in a day’s work, Dilly. Now, I hope you have some sort of magical shotgun hidden up your sleeve in case your buddy decides your head would look better on this dusty floor than it does on our neck.”
“No need for that,” I tell her, and show her my gloves. “These are enough to hold him if I need to. That’s a big if though. Even though he came at me with the apparent intention to kill me, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t really meaning to. If he did, he’d be in just as much shit than if he helped me out in the first place. It’s something I was too busy to consider when I felt like I was running for my life. But since things went sideways, I’ve been trying to put it all together in a way that goes from A to B nice and neat. That’s part of the reason I know he has some idea of what’s really going on here.”
We walk around the store quietly and slowly. I have no idea if I’m right about any of it. Maybe Godfrey is here, hiding and waiting for the right moment to jump out and put an end to me. It would be bad for him, unless he could convince the higher ups that he was doing it to protect this world and the creatures natural to it. They might let him slide for that, despite his record with them. So, it’s better to be on the cautious side when I’m here on his home turf.
“There is some seriously cool and weird ass stuff here, Dillon,” Rouge whispers, and points to something that might look like a rusted farm tool, a pitchfork with eight prongs all going in different directions. “What’s that thing there? It looks like something my friend’s granddad might have had on his farm, only ruined.”
“That’s an Amcasser. It’s sort of used in ceremonies where you need to reach spirits who hover in different dimensions all at once.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” she laughs, and I can tell she’s being sarcastic.
“Well, right now the two of us only exist in this dimension. This time, this space, so it’s easy. But there are creatures so large they exist in more than one time and space, their bodies crossing into multiple dimensions all at the same time and yet staying whole. That tool helps you communicate with them all at the same time. I’ve never had to use one, but I know where it is if I ever do need it.”
“Some days, I think I have it all down, that it can’t get any weirder. Thank you for bringing me here, lover, and proving me so wrong.” She kisses my cheek and we move on to trying to find Godfrey. “Maybe he’s not here,” she suggests after a few minutes.
“He has to be.”
“Why?”
“Well, technically, he’s not allowed to leave the store.”
“So he can’t go out to the movies or to a strip club on the weekends?”
I shake my head.
“Why not? What is this, a prison?”
“In a way, yeah. Now, I know he’s left here before. I’ve even gotten him to bring me items in the past. I think as long as he’s helping he can get away with it, but if he leaves now, he’s not helping anyone but himself and that wouldn’t be good for him. There’s also what happens when he leaves here of course.”
“Oh, do tell. I’m sure it’s going to be horrible.”
“If he leaves, even to help me, the spell cast on him to look like a human—a Jamaican in fact—goes away. Without the spell, people s
ee Godfrey for what he is, and that’s not something people would easily accept.”
“Is he a monster?”
“Let’s just say that Rick Baker would love to use him as a model if he hadn’t quit the biz.”
“And what about you? What would you look like outside of the spell on you to make you so damn cute?”
Here we go. This is something I’ve been avoiding for a while. I take a deep breath and try to figure out if I should tell her everything or just run over a half assed account to make it easier. Damn, nothing’s easy about this.
“Well, there’s not really a spell over me. This is a human body. Sort of a host body in a way,” I tell her, deciding not to pull any punches. “If it grows too old, or dies, even if it gets injured beyond a point that my medicines and potions won’t help, another one would be provided.”
“So, this is just borrowed skin?” Her face is still and I can’t tell how she’s taking it. I don’t like this at all. It’s stressful on an already stress-heavy day.
“I guess you can say that. This is my real form, no matter what, I always look like this. Treemors are humanoid by nature. But, well, if this skin dies in any way, there’s another body for me, sort of a clone, but not really. It’s not a body that died or had a soul before. It’s only a shell of a human which accepts my DNA and adapt to it as I take it over.”
“So your DNA is like a virus?” I can’t tell yet if she’s amazed, amused or turned off by the whole idea of it all. I know it’s not an easy thing to take in, and I should’ve mentioned it before, given her all the details, but how do you explain to someone that the skin you live in isn’t the real you?