by K. Massari
This did not surprise Wallace. He was about to ask for a glass, when Goode continued.
“Heard he let you go. Now you live in Lighthill’s basement, for free, for helping the old guy out.”
Wallace nodded.
“Well, it’s emotional, I guess. And that is what this particular female demon waits for. She waits for you to get a divorce, or to have your mother die, or for you to lose your job … get what I’m sayin’?”
“Yes,” said Wallace.
“Then she floats through your mind, and tickles your skin at the beach, and acts all alone and wronged and she is so absolutely beautiful. She plays to what every man wants. But she’s just a trick. None of it is real.”
Wallace nodded again, not knowing why, and took a swig of whiskey. It burned down his throat.
“Don’t know how she does it.”
Larry laughed softly. “Maybe those South Americans put something in our food when we’re not looking.”
He added: “Anyway she asks for help. And she wants you to love her.”
“It’s all bull. She just messes with your mind. She’s evil.”
He warned Wallace: “Stay away from her. She will just suck the life out of you. She has this entourage, they are like vampires. Hell, no one knows what they really are or where they came from. You know that guy down at the beach, they call him The Man? He is one of her victims.”
Wallace helped himself to more whiskey. What Larry said seemed to add up and make sense. But still … Valeria had given him the few most precious moments with a woman he had ever experienced - in his entire life. That, however, was his secret.
“I appreciate your telling me, sir.”
Larry waved a hand - ‘Don’t mention it.’
“Stay away from her is all I’m saying. Tell her to go to hell and leave us here alone.”
~
Wallace was sore and tired. He got out of Danny’s car in front of Ray’s and shuffled towards the gate with his eyes staring at the sidewalk. He did not notice the vicious dog standing on the stone steps leading to the front door. He noticed it when it started to growl.
Danny had already driven off. The dog started to bark. Wallace was at a loss as to what to do. He felt like just wrestling it. It came at him. It leapt, it was in mid-air when it was thrown aside with a blow.
There stood Valeria.
“Go back to where you came from,” she muttered, and the dog ran off.
With her back turned to him, and her garments flowing around her (though the branches of nearby trees were still), she reminded Wallace of an angel. And knowing her, he thought they might be real.
“Goodbye, Wallace,” she said, and was gone.
Chapter 11
What had he done wrong? Why “Goodbye”?
He nudged the front door open. It was better than sneaking around the back, and coming in from the basement, always worrying Ray’s kids were going to show up and lock the door to the kitchen and main level.
Ray was awake, but looking sickly and pale. Wallace knelt before the old man in his armchair. He wanted to scream, please! Do not leave me. Stay strong. Stay with me.
He took the old man’s hand.
“Do you need anything, sir?” he asked.
“I’m hungry. And thirsty.”
“Should I call your sister? Or the kids?”
“No. Not yet.”
Ray always said ‘not yet’, but they both knew the day would come when they had to call for help, because they could not handle the situation any longer. But both of them pushed that day out as far as possible.
Wallace went about cooking a light dinner. For the first time in a long time, he was not hungry. He thought of the painting, wondering where Ray had put it, and he thought of the computer, of finding or not finding an email from Valeria. He chopped carrots and tried to cook them soft. He peeled and diced potatoes, and squished them with a fork, adding just a little salt and cream. He spoon-fed Lighthill and let him nap a while.
No email from Valeria. On Danny’s Facebook page, however, he saw the painting of her Larry Goode had wanted to throw away. He resented Danny for it, but maybe he had a story to tell. Maybe. The comment read: “Don’t let her break your neck.”
He did a Google search on Harold, but came up with next to nothing … He would have liked to watch a movie, or play some games, or even risk a chat, but he thought better of it, and shook Ray, until the old man woke up.
“What’s the matter?” the old guy said roughly.
“You should wash up a little, and then go to bed?”
“None of your business!”
“Now, now,” scolded Wallace.
He put one hand under Ray’s shoulder, and the other on his elbow, and gently but firmly pushed him up to stand. He pulled and Lighthill followed. Then Wallace took care of him, washed him, took out his dentures and put him in bed.
Checking on the house - windows closed, doors secured, he changed his clothes and rushed out the door after making sure Ray was sound asleep, with two nightlights burning. No cab tonight, he thought, and headed down to the beach, but not before checking on Goode and on Harold.
Jogging along Harbor Road, Wallace had his misgivings. Would the growling dog be lurking somewhere? Would he ever see Valeria again?
Harold was home and there was a party going on at his house. There was laughter and music. Wallace felt bitter … Harold was partying while he was homeless. He was cool with other people and cold and strange around him, his only brother.
Wallace saw himself charging into the party, yelling and wielding a knife. His misery was an almost physical feeling, it sank into his bones, into his soul.
Defeated, he turned, as just another party guest came driving along in a new Porsche.
“Hey, Bubba, going home so soon?” the woman in the passenger seat mocked. The couple in the Porsche laughed.
The man put the car in reverse, and drove back slowly, so they could take a good look at Wallace. The woman wore red lipstick, and was tan with hardly a shred of clothing on. The man in the driver’s seat had sweat all over his face.
“Beat it,” said Wallace flatly.
“Why, we were gonna offer you a ride,” cooed the woman, and the couple again burst out laughing. Wallace decided they were drunk or stoned or both, and not worth the bother.
“Have fun,” he said.
Again, the man drove the car backwards, harassing Wallace.
“What do you mean by that?” he demanded.
‘Anything having to do with Harold is seriously fucked,’ thought Wallace.
He was at a loss as to how to react or respond. He just kept walking.
“Answer me, you son of a bitch!”
Wallace shrugged. When he turned, he saw Harold standing on the sidewalk with a group of party guests, his arms folded over his chest, staring at him. Wallace kept walking, reprimanding himself for coming to Harold’s house in the first place. But he just had to know, had to know more.
Then, the man in the car grabbed his female companion by the hair, jerked her head back, back, all the way back, flashed a knife along her neck, opening her like a bottle. Wallace blinked, not believing what he was seeing. Blood squirted, innards popped, and for a flicker of a second, ever so quickly, a ray of light flashed upward, and was gone. The man with the sweaty face laughed.
“You the breaker?” he asked.
“Are you the new breaker, fat boy?” a woman from Harold’s group asked and hooted.
Wallace thought of Valeria’s words, of how he was special, how he was the one.
He had asked Valeria:
“What’s a breaker?”
And she had answered:
“Someone who can stop all of the evil. You have the light. You are in control …”
Wallace thought of the ray of light he had just seen escaping the body of the murdered woman. Did he, Wallace, have more light that others? Was that why he had been mobbed relentlessly all his life?
<
br /> Was that why he needed layers of fat to shield him against all the humiliation, the coldheartedness?
He turned to look at Harold again. Harold had fallen together like a puppet; two of his friends were holding him upright. As Wallace tried to approach, the peopled hissed at him like snakes, and the house again growled. Wallace looked up at the walls in disbelief. Creatures hung there, clawing and snarling.
What were they?
Valeria had said:
“We don’t know what they are. And we don’t know where they came from.”
Someone grabbed his hair from behind, and Wallace had a panic attack. He was going to die! They would jerk his head back, all the way back, and someone would slash his throat, even half-behead him.
“Let’s break the breaker,” the Porsche driver said, and tugged fiercely at Wallace’s hair.
Wallace was strong; although he nearly flipped backwards, losing his balance, he stayed rooted, and swung around, managing to land a punch on the guy’s jawbone.
The group of people and the hyena-like monsters approached, then screamed at Wallace’ punch. The two holding up Harold threw him away like a ragdoll.
The house reverberated with waves of negative energy coming off it. Dozens of creatures jumped down off its walls, some of them first invisible, then materializing. There were hundreds of them.
‘And they intend to kill me,’ thought Wallace, still not ready to turn and run. Then he saw the Porsche. Could he drive it?
‘Oh man,’ thought Harold. ‘What if I don’t even fit behind the wheel?’
The hyena creatures were advancing, their eyes wide and alive with hatred, glowing in the night. Some were close enough to cut into Wallace’ flesh with their rough yellow claws.
In all the danger, Wallace could not help but wonder if Harold had, at one point, been the breaker. It would explain many things that had happened, it would explain his behavior.
The punched Porsche driver had recovered from the blow, he swung at Wallace, and Wallace backed away just in time.
Valeria appeared, shiny black curls floating, garments burning in bright orange and red flames. The hyena creatures laughed, then cringed, scowled and shrieked.
“You are not strong enough. Go to hell already!” she screamed.
Chapter 12
This caused a great commotion amongst the creatures, they leapt and hissed, snarled and scratched, flying through the air, showing their bleeding wounds, wounds they inflicted randomly upon one another. More and more of them poured out of Harold’s house, from the roof, the outer walls, the earth around the house.
Valeria stood in a circle of fire, her hair and garments streaming around her. Wallace could not help but stare at her, in awe, and full of love. He was her special friend; and yes, she was his special friend. She was amazing. Perhaps the person she had once been had long ago died, but her spirit stayed alive. As if she sensed it, she briefly looked in his direction and smiled a very soft, sweet smile.
Then all the evil around her once again commanded her attention. Larry Goode had arrived on the scene, too, in a red pickup truck. He had a large cross in his right hand.
“Go back to where you came from, you whore!” he screamed.
Harold, suddenly rejuvenated, woke from his stupor like a puppet whose strings had been pulled tight. His eyes came alive with vile hatred. He pointed a finger at Valeria.
With the Porsche driver in tow, they advanced on Valeria, as did the hyena creatures. Some of the creatures could stand on their hind quarters, with their spotted, short fur and their round ears, they resembled animals. However, they could jump and run and also simply vanish.
Wallace shook his head. What were they?
From Goode’s pickup, three men appeared with baseball bats.
Valeria came to Wallace in one fluid motion, they embraced … and were on the beach.
~
“Oh, thank God,” whimpered Wallace. “Just in time.”
He knelt down in the sand.
Valeria knelt beside him. She was wearing a short black dress all of a sudden, and her hair was tied together in a neat pony tail. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry you have to go through this.”
Wallace was fighting tears.
“There’s a lot to deal with.”
Valeria nodded. “I know.”
“Did the other breakers fail?”
Valeria could not contain her tears any longer, she nodded, crying.
“Yes.”
“Maybe I can’t do it, either.”
They were both crying, they embraced, kneeling in the sand, as the water lapped against the shore. It was dark now, Thursday evening, and the only light came from the moon.
“You have one more day.”
After suppressing a few sobs, she added:
“Tomorrow night is the final night.”
“And then?” asked Wallace.
“Our light will be gone - forever.”
‘Is she deceiving me?’ Wallace wondered.
Valeria shook her head, able to read his thoughts.
“There,” she said, and pointed in the direction of the water. At first, Wallace did not see it. Something sparkled. He thought it must be some sort of reflection. Then, after a short period of concentration, after his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized it was a sort of a boundary, like a wall, or a blanket, from - where? - From above.
“What is it?” he asked, cradling Valeria in his arms.
“The veil.”
Wallace rose to his feet slowly, pulling a small and fragile Valeria up with him.
“It’s beautiful,” he muttered.
“Are those sea shells and pearls?”
“It’s made of all sorts of things, rain drops, stars, wishes, promises …”
“Can I touch it?”
“No. Don’t go near it.”
“Why?”
Valeria did not answer.
“Why?”
“No one has ever gone near it.” Suddenly, Valeria was insecure. She stared at the veil in amazement and fear.
“Well, aren’t I … a breaker?”
“Wallace, NO!”
Wallace stepped down the beach incline without hesitation, his shoes sinking into the soft sand. He splashed into the sea water, and waded out to the veil. There was a light and a hum to it. When he was close enough to touch it, he was filled with love and warmth, and suddenly did not want to finger the texture of it, or find an opening. He just wanted to look at it, and admire the colors and the very existence of it. How could anything so beautiful be evil?
“What does it do?”
“It helps to stop all the bad things.”
Wallace could believe that. He imagined his brother going through this veil, and finally finding love to thaw his stone-cold heart. Wallace pondered, the veil was at least three feet thick, more of a wall. He did not dare look up to where it originated. He did not need to. He knew in his heart from where it came. He felt an unusual sensation in his chest. At first he resisted, bitterness flowing through him, and resentment. Then he thought of Valeria, of Ray, of Danny too, and the love, and then he gave himself to the veil, to what it stood for.
“Okay. I accept. I will be the breaker,” he whispered.
For a brief moment, there was a tug at the veil, a soft wave forming, carrying light very close to him. Then it was gone. Maybe he only imagined it. He did not. It had been very real.
When he turned to lay his eyes on Valeria, hopefully smiling, there was another girl with her. And in the distance, the little group of lost souls, abused children from the house of sin stood in the sand, staring at the veil, transfixed, crying, some praying. Wallace enjoyed this special moment. A ray of light at last, in such a dismally dark world.
Chapter 13
An hour later, when the veil had disappeared, and the younger ones had gone back to their graves (or were transformed into cats and dogs …), Wallace took Va
leria’s hand and walked with her to the small wooden bridge that led to the parking lot.
The white cat followed them for a little while, until Valeria turned, and said: “Go home, honey, it will be all right.”
The cat began a wild gallop, speeding through sand and driftwood. The Man sat in the bushes and did not seem to notice her racing past. Wallace watched him, curious; this was the first breaker, after all. Would he, Wallace, end like that, a shell of a man, having lost his mind? Meddling with powers beyond his control? He shuddered, leaned down to Valeria and kissed her ever so softly, allowing her to kiss him back. He put his arm on her shoulders, as they strolled towards the black Honda.
“Subway?” she said, with a low chuckle.
“Okay,” answered Wallace, smiling.
“Can I have a side order of time with you? Just once?” he added.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we are never alone.”
“You’d like that?”
“More than anything.”
She sighed, but squeezed his hand. They got in the car, and Wallace suggested a restaurant further along the coast, away from the neighborhood where so many battles were being fought. Valeria agreed, and stepped on the gas.
Wallace watched the scenery whizz by and thought of all the simple pleasures he had missed out on. His mom had always cared for him, shielded him, but when she died, Harold had taken over the estate as executor. What had prompted his mother to choose Harold over him? Wallace had not understood until recently, when all the strange things had started to happen.
He glanced at Valeria, and admired her beauty. He wanted her desperately, but alive and happy. Not strapped with a past and souls to save. Was that selfish? Or simply normal? Why did he have to save the world from all evil, just to be with a girl, for once …
The restaurant was cozy and Italian. It was elegant, and Wallace braced himself in anticipation of nosy looks and snide remarks, but nothing of the sort was going on. The patrons minded their own business, which was a relief. Wallace was not exactly dressed for the occasion, but he relaxed, and put an arm around Valeria’s waist.
‘This is the kind of life I could get used to,’ he thought.
