Majestic

by Unknown

  She heard him chuckle into the phone. “That’s a joke. What are you going to do with that recording? Go to the FBI? You’re a paper tiger, Allison. And, you shouldn’t ever make the mistake of threatening me.”

  “Chad, don’t you ever make the mistake of underestimating me. You know full well that the other ten in our group would be more than interested in hearing such a recording. No one likes or trusts you, you prick. We all have resources we can discretely call upon, and you know it.”

  Silence at the other end.

  “Well? What’s it going to be, Mr. Powers?”

  In a soft voice, barely audible, he said, “You have my word.”

  “What? Louder, please? My recorder needs more volume. And, I want you to state for the recording just exactly what your ‘word’ is for.”

  Chad Powers yelled into the phone. “Okay, bitch, you have my fucking word that William Carson will not be harmed!”

  Chapter 12

  This time, he had sleepwalked—out of bed, out of the house, and into the studio.

  But, he was awake now, standing in the middle of the vast space, staring at the unfinished ball sitting on the floor.

  Well, the ‘ball’ part itself was finished, but something was telling him he had more to do. It wasn’t quite right.

  Willy looked down at his half-naked body. Once again, he was wearing only underwear, and once again there was a slight glow surrounding him.

  But, what left him aghast every time this goddamned thing happened to him, was being able to see through his skin as if it were cellophane.

  His eyes were stinging this time, for some strange reason. Lights would make the stinging worse.

  But, he could work by moonlight because it was full tonight, its gentle rays cooperatively beaming through the windows. Yes, that’s what he would do. Work by moonlight. Much easier on his stinging eyes.

  He was determined to not leave the studio until the damn ball was finished.

  He didn’t really know what more had to be done, but a little voice inside his head was telling him that his hands would know.

  The power saw would move in cadence with his hands, and his hands would be guided by his instinct. Instinct that would only come to him once he started his work.

  He stared at the ball a little bit longer. It sure looked finished to him. It was a perfect ball, perfectly round. If someone wanted to buy a sculpture of a round ball for some stupid reason, this was about as good as it could get. Smooth surface, not a blemish anywhere.

  Suddenly, though, he knew what the problem was. It was too smooth, too perfect. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. Imperfections were needed. He couldn’t define them in his head, but something told him that it would all come to him once the trusty saw was in his hands.

  Willy glanced quickly out at the moon and then back down at the ball. Then, he rubbed his stinging eyes. Definitely no lights tonight—he would work by moonlight.

  Maybe that was a good thing. His snoopy friend, Steve Jackson, might decide to walk his German shepherd in the wee hours of the morning again, and it wouldn’t be a good thing if he got extra snoopy this time and peeked in through the window.

  It was just pure dumb luck that Steve hadn’t done that a few nights ago when he said he’d seen the studio lights on—he would have been shocked at the sight of a transparent Willy. How could Willy possibly explain that?

  Might be a good time to finally invest in blinds for the windows, but Willy had always resisted that. He liked to be able to look outside even when it was dark out, and he didn’t like the feeling of being closed-in.

  Well, he would just finish this task tonight and that would be the end of it. Hopefully, this wouldn’t happen to him again. Something was pushing him to finish this, so he had to just get it done.

  He’d never been one to believe in the supernatural when he was young, but he’d been enlightened back in Korea.

  What had happened to him there was pretty damn freaky, and what was explained to him by the general in Seoul had been bang-on. His life had unfolded just as the general had told him it would.

  The ‘fountain of youth’ element, the incredible strength, the indestructible teeth, the full head of hair. And, the talent for art, which he’d never exhibited as a kid.

  The general had been right about all that, and he’d been right also in his warning about x-rays.

  What had happened to him since the CT scan had been off the charts. It had awakened an anomaly inside of him and right now he was being driven by something.

  It wasn’t a coincidence—the transparency of his skin and his body glowing like a dim light bulb were a direct result of that scan.

  And, the fact that he was being driven now to do this sculpture of a sphere—a stupid sphere—was a direct result of the CT scan, too. Willy was sure of it. It made no logical sense otherwise. Of course, none of this was logical, but he was trying his best now to just simply ‘connect the dots.’

  He was sure that the only way to stop this weirdness was to finish this thing that he was being driven to do. Tonight, he would do just that. He wanted this chapter of his life over with, once and for all.

  * * * * *

  “Gimme nother puff off that!”

  “Fuck off! Git your own. Yer fault for usin all yers up.”

  Brody Finch lashed his hand out and slapped his friend across the face, sending the joint flicking to the ground. Matt Lawson dove to his knees, feeling around in the dark with his hands, while his eyes hunted desperately for the telltale glow of the tip.

  “Is gone! Probly over there in the grass somewhere. That was my las one!”

  Brody laughed and shook his head, then smoothed both of his hands through his long greasy hair, pressing it back behind his ears. “Good! Now yer in my boat. No drugs lef for any of us.”

  Matt pushed his woolen toque farther up on his forehead. “What the fuck we gonna do now? Still a whole night lef, and we got nothin.”

  “Aw, fuck, Matt. Gettin sick a this grass shit anyways. Gotta get us sum heroin. Haven’t had a shot of that shit since Vancouver.”

  “Yeah, but ain’t none of that in this fuckin town. Jus seems be nothin but blades here. Bored with blades. But, was better than nothin—that was my las one. Was jus startin to feel it, too.”

  Brody pointed at his friend’s head, and laughed. “Why ya wear that fuckin toque, man? Ya look stupid—look like ya tryin be black or sumpin.”

  Matt’s eyes flared at Brody. “That’s a fuckin prejudicial thin to say, Brody!”

  “Is not ‘prejudicial,’ idiot. Is ‘prejudiced.’ That’s the proper use of the word.”

  “You a fuckin teacher all a sudden? Fuck off—les get sum drugs.”

  Brody smoothed back his hair again. “There’s sum heroin in this town—I heard it today in that bar. We jus half ta go back there an connect.”

  “We needs money, or sumpin ta trade.”

  Brody started walking up Baker Street. “Follow me. Will score sumpin.”

  * * * * *

  Willy stood back and admired his work.

  Yep, this is good.

  Something deep inside his brain told him that this was what the sphere was supposed to look like.

  He picked up his power drill and rammed it down for one final touch, one final tunnel. Then, he hefted his saw with both hands and carved out one more mountain range. Then, within seconds, one last canyon.

  No, not finished yet.

  Willy put the tool down and knelt. Then, with ease, he rolled the solid granite sphere onto a different side, a sphere that must have weighed at least 400 pounds in his estimation. He alternated with the drill and the saw until more tunnels, canyons and mountains appeared out of nowhere. But, he knew that it wasn’t really out of nowhere—he seemed to know exactly where these things had to go and how they had to look. He didn’t know how he knew, he just knew.

  And, he didn’t care either. He just wanted this damn thing finished so the weirdness would end.

&nbs
p; * * * * *

  Brody and Matt staggered along Baker Street, then detoured up several side routes. They were looking for an easy target; some place they knew would have something of value. They didn’t want to break into a house—too messy and they were both too stoned to keep their wits about them. They might get hurt.

  Instead, they were looking in backyards; looking for lawn mowers, small barbecues, and power tools. Shit like that. Stuff that had value—wouldn’t be much value, of course, but maybe enough to buy themselves a hit or two.

  So far, nothing worth stealing. They were starting to get discouraged. They tried to peek through the windows of a few garages, but all of the windows were covered except for one. And, all that was in that one was an old car. They didn’t want to steal a car—again, too messy. And, too hard to unload. Too traceable.

  They turned off Baker Street onto a quiet crescent. Brody held up his hand.

  “Shh…hear that?”

  “Yeah. What the fuck is it?”

  “I dunno. Les check it out.”

  They walked along the street, following the sound. It was a humming noise. Or whirring. Brody couldn’t really distinguish between hummings or whirrings. It was all just noise to him. He crooked his finger, motioning Matt to follow him in through a backyard.

  Then, he pointed. “Is comin from that big fuckin grage.”

  They crouched and approached the building cautiously. It was all dark, not a light on anywhere inside. But, there was still that strange humming or whirring noise, whatever the fuck it was.

  Brody got down on his knees and crawled up to a back door. Matt followed his every move. There was a window to the right of the door, and Brody eased himself up carefully and peeked inside.

  “Jesus fuckin Christ! There’s a fortune of equipments in there!”

  “What equipments?”

  Brody backed out of the way. “Look for yerself.”

  Matt got to his feet and peered in through the dirty window. “Holy shit! We gotta get that stuff! Is all power shit, too!”

  Brody pulled a Swiss Army knife out of his pocket and flicked open the tool that he wanted. “This’ll do it. This lock easy shit fer me.”

  Matt grabbed his arm. “But, what ‘bout that whirring noise thing?”

  Brody grunted. “Probly jus air conditionin or sumpin like that.”

  He fumbled with his tool until the lock popped. Then, Brody turned the handle and opened the door. They both entered slowly, carefully, feeling their way in the dark.

  The moon had gone behind a cloud, so it was darker now than it had been a few seconds ago when they were peeking through the window. Brody pulled his trusty BIC lighter out of his pocket and flicked the wheel.

  They both gasped in unison. They were in a short corridor which Brody could see led to a larger open area up ahead. The corridor was lined with shelves and mounting hooks. A massive array of power tools hung on the hooks, all shiny and new-looking.

  Brody didn’t really know what he was looking at, but it all sure looked expensive. His mouth started drooling as he pondered all of the heroin this stuff would buy.

  Matt grabbed his belt, and whispered, “Brody, we gotta go back out an steal a pick-up truck ta haul out all this shit. Then we jus sell the shit an dump the truck!”

  Brody nodded, and whispered back. “Right. This a fuckin gole mine. But, les check it all out firs.”

  They walked slowly through the corridor until finally reaching the open area, which curved to their left. They turned the corner and were now in the wide expanse of the garage. The whirring noise got louder the farther in they went.

  Brody suddenly held out his right arm, stopping Matt in his tracks. They both stared straight ahead.

  At the end of the garage near the front door, was a figure. He had his back to them and hadn’t seen them yet. He was a big guy, and seemed to be hunched over some large ball thing on the floor.

  Matt whispered. “Goddamn! We can’t walk way from this shit. We can take him.”

  Brody nodded. “Probly an ole bugger. Be easy.”

  Matt looked questioningly at his partner, who seemed to be hesitating. “Well?”

  Brody swallowed hard and replied, “Okay. Now er never. I’ll lead. We’ll rush the asshole.” Brody held up his hand. “Wash my fingers. On three.”

  The garage was huge. They had a good sixty feet to cover in their dash for the cash. But, Brody wasn’t worried. He flicked his fingers up one at a time. Once the third finger made its appearance, he whispered, “Now!”

  They ran, their well-worn running shoes squeaking along the cement floor. Both of them had their arms out in front of them, ready to tackle the figure and deal with whatever it was they had to deal with. Nothing would stop them from stealing this stuff. As of now, it was all theirs. The old bugger just didn’t know it yet.

  When they were within twenty feet, the moon suddenly made its appearance again. Brighter than ever. Harsh on the eyes. For a second, Brody was blinded, until another thin cloud passed over, leaving a kinder glow coming in through the window.

  Suddenly, the figure heard them—or more likely, heard their shoes.

  He swung around to face them, an ominous-looking power tool in his hands.

  Something made Brody stop. He put on the brakes, but the soles of his cheap runners stuck to the cement, causing him to do a face plant. Matt, as usual, followed Brody’s every move.

  When Brody was finally able to look upwards from the floor, the first thing he saw was Matt.

  Half-kneeling beside him, mouth open in horror, eyeballs bulging out of his forehead.

  Brody followed Matt’s eyes up to the ghostly apparition towering above them.

  He couldn’t help himself.

  Brody Finch screamed like a girl for the first time in his life.

  Chapter 13

  They scurried backwards, as far away as they could get doing the crab walk. The revulsion on their faces made Willy feel sick to his stomach.

  His immediate reaction was one of horror at being seen this way by strangers. He’d gotten used to the idea that doctors and nurses had seen him transparent—that was okay, they were accustomed to seeing sickening things. And, he trusted that they’d respect his privacy.

  The worst part of that experience at the hospital, though, was knowing that his wife and son had seem him that way. But, he’d reconciled that in his mind, too—they loved him and it didn’t matter how hideous he looked. They’d still love him.

  But, strangers, now, that was a different story. He actually felt sorry for these two scumbags. They’d obviously broken into his studio to rob him, and judging by how they’d been charging him at full speed, they also intended to cause him harm. Maybe irreparable harm.

  Until they got a glimpse of who they were dealing with.

  The ear-splitting scream from the one with long greasy hair was enough to wake the dead—which ironically was what Willy knew he looked like right now. The walking dead.

  The other character, the one with the toque on his head, just whimpered like a maimed puppy.

  He indeed felt sorry for them, despite what they had been intending. He wouldn’t have wanted to witness what they’d just witnessed—it would probably scar him for life.

  They were sitting on the cement floor, frozen in place. Each of them had their hands up to their mouths and just stared at him.

  Willy slowly leaned over and laid the power saw down on the floor. As he did, he noticed that the transparency in his arms had dissipated since the boys had made their move. For a split second, he wondered if a dramatic change in emotions could cause the effect to disappear.

  He’d been startled when he turned around, watching the two of them running at him. They were in shock, too, at what they saw, but he was also in shock from knowing that they’d seen him that way.

  He wasn’t fearful at all—he knew he could handle himself. He was just more in shock at being seen.

  Willy spread his arms out to his side, displaying to the
boys that he no longer had something dangerous in his hands. Then, he walked slowly towards them.

  “See? Nothing in my hands. I’m not going to hurt you. And, I’m not going to phone the police. Why don’t you just leave by the way you came in, and we’ll forget about this whole thing.”

  The boys were silent. Willy figured they were about eighteen or nineteen, very skinny and unhealthy looking. Pock-marked faces, shabby clothes, pale complexions. They looked like they hadn’t had a ray of sunshine or a good solid meal in weeks.

  “C’mon. Get up and be on your way.”

  The greasy-haired kid slid back on his bum a few more feet, then cautiously rose to stand, feigning defiance. The toque-headed guy watched his friend and followed his move. They were both standing now, unsteady, but at least they were standing.

  Greasy kid spoke first. “We wan moneys.”

  “You can’t have any money. You’re lucky I’m letting you leave.”

  Toque kid got brave and found his tongue. “You gots lots a tools here. We gonna take sum with us.” He glanced at his friend. “Right, Brody?”

  The one called Brody, and clearly the one in charge, smiled. “Better we get money stead, now we got this old bugger trapped. Take us to the house, man, and git us sum cash.”

  Willy shook his head.

  Brody took a knife out of his pocket and wielded it in the air. “Matt, grab that rope thin off the bench over there.” He pointed.

  Matt scurried over to the workbench and brought back a long length of heavy rope.

  “Okay, you won take us to the house, we’ll go ourselves. Tie him up, Matt.”

  Willy spread his arms out again. “Guys, don’t make this mistake. You can leave here and nobody gets hurt, and neither of you gets arrested. Take the deal.”

  Brody shook his head. “We in charge here. And, what the fuck were you wearing? Sum kinda costume? Glow in the dark shit? You some kinda twisted perv, man? Maybe you enjoy being tied up.”