Earthbound and Down ebook 20170826

by Shaun Meeks

  The Gath cost me a friend and killed the two men who’d called her forward. I thought I was a goner too, but luck was what saved me. A scholar who’d heard rumours of her had come and distracted her just long enough for me to cut right through the mist that was her being with a tool called a Bellaham. Once the weapon touched her, she all but blinked out of existence in this world and was sent back to where it belonged. Of course the scholar was quite dismayed by the whole ordeal and called the police on me. Luckily, I wasn’t charged with the murders of the three men who’d died there because no real evidence could be found as to what could’ve killed them. I didn’t mention the lady siren and they just figured the scholar was a nut job.

  Ever since I started this job I’ve had to face off with monsters, demons and beasts of such different sizes and shapes, so this shouldn’t be any different, and it should actually be a cakewalk. Should be, but I doubt it will. I’m not that cocky. There was a time when I would have gone into this with that kind of head set, that there’s no way I could possible lose, but over the years I’ve come to learn the very hard truth—anything that can happen, will.

  “Why do you think this shadowy man and his monsters are in the distillery? Why there?” Godfrey asks, and it’s something I’ve been thinking about since I found out about it in the note.

  “I guess the dark would be the best bet. Maybe he thought we’d go back to the sewers after the cops were killed and this was his way of staying ahead of the game.” I can only guess. I don’t know what this guy is thinking at this point. To be honest, I’ve still got a lot of questions. Why did he call the Colossus’ forth, why does he want the book so bad, why have the junkie and his little otherworld friend attack me and why put the parasite in me? All these questions and no real answers.

  It again comes down to trying to make sense out of a madman’s plot. When they live in reality their plans are just as moronic as those I’ve read in books over the years. Take over a world they destroy, unleash monsters onto the earth, wipe out an entire race of people, create a nuclear holocaust, but to what end? What would any of those things really accomplish? A sane person can’t be expected to come up with an answer. It takes a certain kind of warped brain to make real sense out of such senselessness.

  “Okay,” Godfrey says finally. “I get that part of it, I guess. Makes as much sense as the rest of this does, but why there? It’s not exactly abandoned.”

  “It’s not? I’ve never been there. I know they film movies down there sometimes, like the opening scene in the first X-Men movie, but I just assumed otherwise it is vacant.”

  “No. It’s become a haven for hipsters and microbreweries. They’ve even turned it into a tourist trap in a way.”

  I shake my head. I hadn’t known that. I need to get out more I guess. Rouge says the same thing every now and then. She tells me I need to think outside the box, but I’m still kind of new to the whole dating thing. Everything I’ve learned is from old John Cusack and Molly Ringwald movies. Maybe I do need to broaden my horizons.

  “Well, I guess we’ll have to hop that fence when we get to it,” I tell him, as I grab my bag and head to the door. I put my hand on the knob then look back to see Godfrey hasn’t moved. “You’re coming, right? I thought you wanted to redeem yourself.”

  “I do. I’m just a little worried.”

  “Same here, but we have the tool to beat those things, so let’s get a move on.”

  I see him shake his head and look at me with deep, black eyes that look more like ping pong balls than what I’m used to. This whole lizard look he’s sporting is still a bit jarring, I guess.

  “There’s more to it than that, Dillon. Something’s not right here. There’s been things not right for a while, haven’t you noticed it?”

  “Like what?” I ask, not sure I know what he’s going on about.

  “When was the last time you heard from them? Have you spoken to anyone from Head World, the offices that control the hunters? Has anyone said anything to you about the fact that you’re dating a human woman? Or even made contact with you to let you know I left my shop?”

  “No, but—”

  “No buts, Dillon, you know that’s strange. There’ve been rumours and mummers that things are not going well in the other worlds and realms. Haven’t you heard anything at all or felt it at least?”

  I think on it, and at first there’s nothing there but his fear and worry. Sure, I haven’t heard boo about the Hellion I killed, the Porter I killed and closed or the fact that I’m dating Rouge, but that doesn’t mean anything really. There are times when I don’t hear from them for a year or more so why should I worry?

  I think of Rouge again and how wrong what I’m doing is. It goes so against their rules that it’s weird and worrisome that nobody has contacted, or even come to arrest me. I know I shouldn’t be bothered by it, maybe they’re just so happy with the job I do they’re willing to overlook certain things. Still, something’s not right and I keep racking my brain.

  And that’s when it comes back to me. Not a reason why I’ve not been contacted or punished, but what was said to me that should have me even more worried. It’s from back when I was jumped by the junkie and the Skell in my stairwell.

  Since you stopped that Hellion, word is going through the universe, to every realm what you’ve done. Some are more scared of you and the hunters than ever before, but not everyone. There’s a group out there, spanning numerous planets, realms and planes of existence, that are coming together and want you dead. They’re paying any cost to get you, rid them of the last Treemor. They thought they already had, yet here you are.

  I tell this to Godfrey and he looks as grim as a lizard can. “That doesn’t sound good. Dillon. We need to find out if what the Skell said is true or not. What if this is connected to that or it’s something far worse. Maybe these Colossus’ are just proof of how much influence the Head World has lost. I don’t know if we should keep going with this, or try and get answers first.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” I ask, and hope he is. This is not the time to give up.

  “No. Why fight this battle if the Head World is coming apart. We could just leave and—”

  “And nothing, Godfrey. This isn’t even a question. I have someone here I love and even if I didn’t, I can’t let this stand. This shadowy man is up to something and I can’t help but feel as though it’s personal.” It’s hard not to feel that way when you’ve been attacked, had a parasite put in your head, watched three cops killed, had to send your girlfriend off, listened to an old friend die, and then get shot. It feels as if this is very personal. “There’s also Detective Garcia and his son to think about. They’re not part of any of this, nothing more than pawns. I’m not ready to have their blood on my hands.”

  He’s silent and I know he’s never been one for fighting. Not really his thing, aside from the time he came at me with a damn sword of course. Though at this point, I have little doubt that it was all a scare tactic to make the parasite in my head report back that Godfrey wasn’t helping me. I could be wrong though. Godfrey has fucked me in the past, and not in the carnal way.

  “Look, you come and help me any way you can, and I’ll owe you. Big time, okay?”

  He’s silent for a moment, no doubt trying to figure out if he should come along or leave me to my own devices. I think of saying more to him, offering some deed or object in order to seal the deal, but I think just giving him the promise of being owed should be enough. I hope it is.

  “I do like the idea of you owing me, Dillon.”

  “Then, I’ll owe you two times. Deal?”

  “You better stand behind that promise, Hunter,” he says, and we finally leave.

  It’s still sunny by the time we reach the Distillery District. We had to walk here using the sewer system. I figured it was best to keep Godfrey out of sight. It’s not every day that people see a six and a half foot
walking lizard fully clothed strolling down the street, so I thought best to just stay off them. It’s not like we could’ve cabbed it or taken a bus, either. It’s hard enough getting a cab in the city. In Godfrey’s current state it’d be damn near impossible.

  It takes us longer than I’d like to weave through the labyrinth of tunnels and I notice for the first time in as long as I can remember that I’m not even noticing or caring about the bugs here. My fear of insects has haunted me long before I ever arrived on Earth, yet as we pass by loads and loads of cockroaches and other things squirming in the water, I don’t pay attention to them. I guess my mind is busy with more important worries.

  After checking to make sure we’re in the right area, I peek out of the sewer grate to see if it’s safe to come out. The metal lid is right between two buildings and as soon as I look out I see that Godfrey was right about this place. There are people everywhere. Most are dressed in a way best described as hipster. In other words, the men are all sporting shaggy beards and oversized glasses while wearing plaid shirts two sizes too small, but the pants are even smaller and tighter. There are massive amounts of suspenders and bow ties as well, being worn by both sexes and I don’t know why I see more than one unicycle in the group. Are these people off duty circus performers, or is that an actual way they want to get around?

  The women look a lot like the men, but their plaid shirts are too big for them, as are their glasses; most of those are thick and black or cat-eyed. The cuffs of their pants are too high to be regular ones, and too low to be capris. There are a lot of lunch boxes here too, most with a picture of Ghostbusters or Scooby Doo on the side. Oh well, it could be worse. This could’ve led us to a place full of Juggalos.

  “We’re not going to be able to get out of here without being seen. We need to find somewhere else,” I tell Godfrey, and move away from the grate.

  “Is it busy?”

  “Well, despite the strong odour of weed in the air, I’m pretty sure you’d still be noticed, lizard face.”

  “Count yourself lucky that nobody can see your true face, Treemor!” he growls, and I guess that’s true. My race would have just as hard of a time fitting in.

  We move along, heading what I’m guessing is south and when we come to another grate, I look up and out. What I see now is the inside of a building and I realize it must be a drain for one of the old whiskey making facilities. Perfect. I don’t see or hear anyone so I push on the grate and try to get out. It’s in here pretty tight, but I think I can push it open. I grunt and groan and struggle with it until Godfrey tells me to get out of the way. Once I do, he moves to it and with one good shove the metal grate is airborne. It crashes down next to the hole and he laughs.

  “Guess it is a good thing I came after all,” he tells me, and steps out of the sewer. I say nothing, not wanting to give him any satisfaction, but he’s right. Who knows how long I would’ve struggled with it. I’m also thinking this might not be the last time I need his help and strength.

  Ignoring the sloshing of my drenched feet, I step out and try to figure out what the next part of the plan should be. There was nothing in the letter about what building the shadowy man was in or anything that can lead us to them. For all I know, Detective Garcia is already here, having given up the book and is dead. I have to hope that’s not the case. Who knows what else the shadow man could call forth once he has the book in hand.

  “So, what now?” Godfrey asks, as if I have a clue.

  “We need to find them. I’m guessing it’ll be in a building with no windows, no real access to the public and very dark. Maybe if we go up to the roof, we can figure it out from there.”

  He nods and we move. There’s a stairwell to the right of us and as we go, I have a weird sensation as though we’re being watched. I’ve come to know that feeling pretty well lately, and I wasn’t wrong then—Godfrey had been keeping his eye on me. Who could it be now?

  I turn fast, expecting one of the Colossus to be there and when I see the shape in the shadows no more than ten feet from us, I visibly jump. I need to get a handle on that.

  “Godfrey!” I call out, and the giant lizard turns.

  “Holy Jesus!” the man engulfed by shadows says, and there is fear in his voice. My guess is he has nothing to do with any of this. “Is that one of those crocs that was flushed down a toilet and got all mutie?”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, and the man steps forward. It’s a security guard, I think. His uniform says that’s what he is, but he’s very dishevelled looking. His uniform is a wrinkled mess, cat hair clings to the black pants, and his hair looks as though it’s trying to flee his head in several directions. For a moment, I’m reminded of Doc Brown in Back to the Future.

  “I’m talking about the monster in the slacks beside you. It looks like some mutant from the sewers, like those stories in New York back when gators and crocs were given as pets and then people started flushing them down the can. They eat all kinds of toxic shit and turn into…well, I imagine the thing beside you.”

  “I’m no thing!” Godfrey yells, and makes a motion as if to go after the old man, but I put a hand on him in hopes of calming him down.

  “You sure look like one. Damn scary thing too.”

  “He’s not. It’s a…disguise is all. We’re planning on pranking someone,” I lie, terribly. There’s no way to believe that Godfrey is in a costume, not unless Rick Baker made it for him, that is. Yet the guard nods as if he buys it completely. “I take it you’re security here?”

  “Yup. Came down to try and catch a nap. These twelve-hour shifts are hell on my knees. So, I come here, have a little sip of the sauce and nap. Not like anything really happens here. You’re not going to rat me out are ya?”

  “No. Not at all, but we could use some help.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “We need to find a building. One that would be pretty dark, no windows and one the public doesn’t go into.”

  “For the prank?” he asks, and pulls a water bottle out of the pocket of his cargo pants. He takes a fast sip, makes a face, and I can guess right there that it’s not water in the bottle. Too cheap to buy a flask? Or is he smart that nobody would question a water bottle?

  “Yeah, the prank,” I tell him. “Maybe there’s a building here you don’t really patrol either?”

  “There’s only one and I don’t patrol it. Nobody does. It was the old barrel room. I’m sure it smelled delicious at one time, but now, you don’t want to even try to hang out in there for long.”

  “Why?”

  “Smells like pure cat piss. The place has a real ammonia smell to it. They say it was from some incident in the factory, I think it’s just too many Tommy Cats getting up to no good,” he says, and laughs before taking another swig.

  “How can we get there?” I ask, and feel hopeful.

  “Easy, go up to the third floor and there’s a door that says overhang. Open that and there’s a walkway that looks kind of like a bridge. It goes right over to the one you’ll want. Best way to go if you want to stay out of sight and not spoil the prank.” He walks a little closer to us and points to where the stairs are and as he gets close, the smell of liquor and BO is overwhelming. “You going to post this on YouTube?”

  “Sure,” I tell him, and begin to walk away. “It’ll be titled Return of the Lizard King. You like it?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll search for it in a week. Have fun and stay out of trouble.”

  “We never do,” I call out, and walk up the stairs, glad to be away from him. “Well, that was fun,” I say to Godfrey.

  “Must be nice to get paid to sleep all day and drink,” he jokes. “He thinks his job’s hard, but look at him. He wouldn’t know tough if it jumped up and bit off the man’s balls.”

  I laugh at that and it’s true. I know people who do security jobs. I get jobs all the time where guards
work and the industry is very strange. Some of these places, the guards get to sleep or drink or fuck the dog their entire shift, and they get paid the exact same amount as guards who work in high crime areas where they’re forced to patrol in areas cops won’t. I once showed up to do a job in the Moss Park area and the guards there had it tough. They only have two people to work sixty-seven properties in one of the highest crime areas in the city. Drugs, guns, gangs and general criminals are everywhere and they have to deal with it all day and night long. Sure, my job isn’t much easier, but at least I have the tools to protect myself. These guards get paid almost minimum wage and run the risk of getting shot or catching some disease. And everyone hates them. Criminals. Tenants. Cops. They get no respect at all.

  Not my idea of a good time.

  We get to the door and open it. Rusty hinges cry out as we push it open and for a second I’m amazed there isn’t a lock on the thing. With a half-drunk guard napping in the basement and no locks on doors like this, this place is as secure as Godfrey is human. Then, I quickly see why.

  “What the holy shit is this?” Godfrey moans from over my shoulder as he looks out the door.

  I see why almost immediately and think this is going to suck.

  Hard.

  The so-called walkway barely exists anymore. There’s a steel skeleton of what once was a bridge and the odd wooden beam here and there, but not much else. I wonder if there’s any way to get across this safely without plunging to our deaths.

  I look down, and maybe death is too strong of a word. It’s only a three-storey drop, so we probably wouldn’t die. Instead, most of our bones would break and then the world would go insane as everyone pulled out a cellphone and snapped pictures of the six and a half foot giant lizard that fell from the sky. Those images would go viral and then what? Who knows how the world would react to something like that.

  There are times when people in my close circle, mainly Rouge, have asked why it hasn’t happened already. I have a website and commercials on late night TV. People hire me all the time to hunt down and kill monsters and demons that are in their homes and business, yet the world moves on as if nothing has ever happened. And I can only think that it’s because with it being just in their house, confined to their place of business, it becomes a dirty little secret. You don’t go bragging to your neighbours when you get cockroaches or bed bugs, so why would you when something crosses over from another realm or dimension? So, as long as it’s a personal secret, a little embarrassment they don’t want to share with the world, everything can continue to run smooth and be right as rain. Faith in everything good can continue to exist as if nothing ever happened.