Lincoln, Fox and the Bad Dog

by D Roland Hess

I approach, and when I look too, the plain is no longer there. It is simply the edge of a cliff. It is impossible to see the bottom, but I have the feeling that things move there, outside of my ability to witness.

  “Shall we?” says the dog.

  “Shall we what?” I say.

  “Take the next step.”

  “Down there?”

  “Of course,” she says.

  “I think not.”

  “I think,” she says, “that you ought to.”

  I look again. It is the same as before. Horribly deep. Motion that I can feel but not see.

  “It’s not nearly as bad as it looks,” she says.

  I step back from the ledge. I want nothing to do with it. Nothing. I put my hands on my face, and they feel horribly dry.

  I look at them, and the skin is different like a painted surface that is starting to crackle. It doesn’t hurt.

  A light breeze brings the sound of voices from the chasm, runs past me. I see something like tiny leaves follow it into the sky and know that they are bits of me that have peeled off. I look away.

  “What’s wrong with me?” I say to the dog.

  “Perhaps,” she says, “you are hatching something.”

  “That’s not encouraging,” I say.

  “There is more than one way to skin a cat,” she says. “Believe me.”

  “I do.”

  “Lincoln?” says a voice from behind me.

  I turn, and it’s a woman. Gwen.

  “There you are,” she says. “I lost you both. I was worried.”

  “We were just taking a walk,” says the dog.

  “Well,” says Gwen, “we have things to do. Let’s get going.”

  “Suit yourself,” says the dog, and then everything goes away.

  * * *

  I woke up on my back. My side was warm, and when I shuffled my hand in the direction I felt Babd, smooshed up against me. It felt good.

  “You two have to stop doing that,” said Gwen, sotto voce.

  The blinds were all drawn in the hotel room, and the only light came from blinking LEDs on the server hardware running on the desk.

  “It’s time to get up,” she said. “I’m going to count backwards from five, and when I finish, you’ll be fully awake, alert and ready to go.”

  I felt perfectly awake already but no use breaking up her rap.

  “Five. Four. Three.”

  Babd stretched.

  “Two. One. Now you’re awake.”

  I sat up. I did, in fact, feel fully awake, alert and ready to go. Babd jumped to the floor. The dirty, almost starved dog that had shown up at the cabin in Erie now looked sleek and pretty close to well fed. She’d been eating like a monster. I was glad that whenever Babd decided to move on from this body that the animal would be better off than when we found it.

  “So, the good news,” I said, “is that it worked. And it was weird. I know everything I need to know to get at the data.”

  “You wouldn’t say ‘the good news’ if there wasn’t also bad news,” said Gwen.

  “Duh. The bad news is that he wasn’t lying about not being able to get in remotely. Unless you have a trusted device and one of their security fobs, you can’t get VPN access.”

  “Which means what?”

  “I’m going to have to be on site to actually do this.”

  “So that’s not going to work then,” said Gwen.

  I’d used social engineering to get into facilities before, but it has always been as a hired pentester. If you got caught, there were no police involved. You’d just failed your assignment, and the company’s operational security folks walked away feeling like they’d done their jobs. Getting in the front door was the easiest, so they were usually testing how long it would take regular employees to report shady behavior.

  This would be different. I could probably talk my way past the front desk, but if the doors were badge-locked, I’d have to piggyback on someone else going in. And that’s tricky. Once I was inside, I’d have to find an empty workstation which was probably locked somehow, get it unlocked, and only then could I use Henri’s psychically pilfered credentials.

  Dan would have it easy on something like this. He could magic everyone’s brains into doing whatever he wanted. I didn’t have that as an option.

  Magic would certainly make things easier.

  “Holy shit,” I said.

  “What?” said Gwen.

  “The jacket.”

  It was green. Soft leather. My fingers had a memory of it, a very recent one. It was magic.

  “Brigit is wearing the jacket,” said Gwen, just as the thought finally coalesced for me too.

  “Yeah.”

  I don’t know what the stages of human decomposition are. It’s not something I ever, ever have to consider. It had been roughly six hours since we left her body in the tub. If I leave ground beef out on the counter for six hours, it isn’t horrible and smelly by then. So she should be in much better shape, right? No one should have known, so there should be no police yet.

  And Brigit certainly hadn’t gone anywhere under her own power.

  A little inductive reasoning said that we should be able to drive back over to the apartment building, go in, get the jacket and leave. I still had the key.

  With Dan’s jacket, not only could I waltz into the facility with a smile on my face, I’d probably come out of it with a bunch of phone numbers too.

  But whatever.

  “I’ll go along,” said Gwen, “but I’m not going back in the apartment. It’s just...” She threw her hands up in a kind of I don’t know gesture.

  “It’s fine. I get it,” I said.

  We piled into the car and drove back to Gwen’s apartment.

  No police cars or warning tape waited for us. Not that I had really expected it, but still.

  We opened the front door. A hipster dad was coming down the foyer stairs with his small daughter.

  “Hey Rodney,” said Gwen.

  “Hey,” said the man.

  “Doggy!” said the little girl.

  “Be careful honey,” said the man. “Ask before you pet.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “She’s friendly.”

  “Can I pet your dog?” said the girl. I’m not good at figuring out how old little kids are, but I’m guessing she was three? Maybe four? I don’t know.

  “Sure,” I said.

  Babd walked up to her, and the little girl lightly patted her head like Babd was a Jenga tower that was ready to topple.

  As the girl petted Babd and Gwen made small talk with hipster Rod, I just stood there wondering how much every minute of inaction raised our risks. Probably not much. But it had to be a little. At some point, it would start making a difference.

  Rodney was a talker. He’d do the thing where it seemed like he was about to wind down, but then he’d pick back up again.

  I gave Gwen a look. She interrupted him.

  “Hey, we’re on a… tight schedule.”

  “Oh. Okay. Cool. Good to see you,” he said.

  “Yeah, you too. Come on guys.”

  She walked to the stairs. I gave a little wave and followed her. Babd licked the girl and then fell in behind us. The girl giggled.

  As we ascended, I heard her say, “Papa, the dog said I smelled smart.”

  Ha.

  The pitch of the steps here was annoying. They were a little too deep to comfortably take them two at a time, but short enough that taking every single step felt like a lot of work. No wonder Gwen had been out of breath when she’d run up them hours ago.

  “I’ll get the jacket,” I said. “You two just want to hang in the stairwell?”

  “Makes sense,” said Gwen.

  Babd nodded.

  The walk to the apartment door was a long one, even though the hall couldn’t have been more than thirty feet long. I contemplated doing something clever like pretending to nonchalantly stop in front of the door and check my phone while trying to use the key off to th
e side and out of sight. But that was stupid and overly complicated. Just unlock the damned door. I even remembered to turn the knob with my sleeve over my hand.

  The place was exactly as we’d left it.

  No smells.

  I found that I really didn’t want to go into the bathroom.

  Like, really, really didn’t.

  I knew what I should see there, that she was just a body in a tub, but my childhood imagination was racing. Things dark and slithery closed in on the edges of my mind.

  I took a breath.

  What would be the absolute worst thing that I would see? I’d picture that, and then once that was out of the way, I’d be fine or at least better.

  I decided that the worst possible thing I could see would be Brigit sitting up in the tub, alive and monster-style like she’d been in the dream world. And pissed.

  I put that image in my mind and held it there. I reached my hand around the edge of the door and flipped on the light. Not a sound. I kept the picture in my head and turned the corner.

  She was still dead. Looked exactly the same, in fact. This wasn’t nearly as bad as my imaginary worst case scenario. In contrast, this was just short of spectacular.

  I walked over to the tub, realizing that I had maybe never taken someone’s jacket off of them in my entire life. It was a strange thing to think, and I was struck by flashes of other people taking their small children’s jackets off. I guess it’s not something you generally do if you don’t have kids. Unless you’re weird. Or a coatman.

  And this would be more like taking a jacket off a mannequin than a person, because this person wouldn’t be able to help.

  I looked, and it was Dan’s jacket. Or Stoneface’s jacket. Or whoever’s. It was going to be mine now. A little voice in the back of my head said something like you’re looting a dead body, but I told it to go find someone else to bother.

  The best way to do this would be from behind, so I rolled her face down. The curvature of the tub bent her body at an uncomfortable angle.

  “Sorry,” I found myself saying.

  Even though I knew it wasn’t a thing that would happen, I was scared that pulling her arms back like I had to would break a bone, or a joint would pop out like when you pull apart a chicken wing. Ah, the irrational things your brain serves up the first time you steal clothes from a body.

  It was more difficult than I thought to get the coat off.

  I think I said “sorry” maybe five more times.

  When I was finished, I rolled her back over and tried hard not to think about what was going on, reducing it to pure mechanics. I’m pretty good at that.

  As I was about to leave the bathroom, hand on the light switch, I heard a sound in the main hallway, outside the apartment. Voices.

  Probably nothing. Just sit tight.

  They got louder, then got softer. I heard a door open, then close.

  I’d been counting quietly, and the whole thing took about twenty seconds.

  Okay.

  Are we finally ready?

  I felt something move behind me, and the temperature in the room dropped by a good fifty degrees. There came a sound, and I think it was a sound because my ears heard some of it, but I suspected not all of it. It sounded like some kind of animal scream, too far distant to have been made in the small space of the bathroom, but to the rest of my body the sound felt like a tearing.

  Something fundamental had been ripped apart.

  I put my hand on Fox and turned.

  Above the tub, there was no longer tile and drywall.

  There was nothingness. There were no cracks or damage in the wall, but a portion of it was simply gone, and a horrible blackness had taken over the space. Cold poured from it. The ceiling light was still on, but everything had become dim. Gray.

  Something moved on the edge of the blackness. I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn’t budge. I found that it was all I could do to remain upright. I gripped Fox as tightly as I could and felt a wave of terror wash over me.

  Four long, slender, jointed things came through the blackness and gripped the inside of the wall. Fingers. They were followed by four more on the other side.

  They all flexed, and the thing that was attached to them pulled itself through. I watched in horror as it planted a stump-like foot on the edge of the tub and fleshy gray tendrils immediately grew away from it into the tub, anchoring it in place.

  It was naked, bony. Only a slit for a mouth. Huge eyes that held the same black nothing as the space behind it.

  And the hands. Each hand was as long as its legs, and the fingers seemed to move with a life of their own, spelling out some horrible, twitching sign language independent of the motions of the rest of the body.

  Beyond the gibbering fear that seeing it induced in me, there was something else. A basic and visceral feeling rose in me that wanted it dead. It was almost like a chemical reaction. I wanted to see this thing reduced to a heap of flaming chunks maybe more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.

  It looked at me, and my legs buckled. I fell flat on my ass.

  My hands were starting to go numb from the cold.

  Somehow, I managed to pull Fox from his holster and point him, shaking, at the thing.

  The slit on its face widened, and the sound that came out hurt my brain.

  Ssssshheeee iissssssss miiiiiiiinnee

  I realized that I hadn’t been breathing, so I started.

  The thing turned to Brigit, lowered its face near to hers. Its head rolled around in a sickening fashion, and then the voice again.

  Nnnnnnnot fresssshhhhhh?

  And it moved toward me, sniffing.

  I had no idea what setting Fox was on, but I fought through the panic and started pulling the trigger.

  Click.

  Click.

  Click.

  Nothing.

  There was a key in my pocket.

  Some distant part of my mind suggested that I’d just made three more keys.

  I tried to flick the physical switch to cycle through the payloads, but I literally could not feel my thumb. I couldn’t make it work.

  The thing hovered above me, and I lost the will to do anything else.

  As it moved and repositioned itself, the little tendrils grew and retracted wherever its feet or hands touched a surface. I idly wondered what would they would do if it touched me.

  But it wasn’t interested in me. It was interested in the jacket. It sniffed at it. I felt like a patient on an operating table in a nightmare. Awake but unable to move.

  Ahhhhh …… sssheeeee wasssssss hidddddennnnn

  And then it was off me, back in the tub.

  “Leave her alone.”

  I’m not sure how I managed to say it or even why.

  The thing began to cough, and I realized after a moment that it was laughing.

  It stood up straight, its long head ducking against the ceiling.

  Ssssheeee maaade prommisessssss

  Without having to bend down, it placed the four fingertips of its right hand against her chest. The tendrils lashed out, and I could see the fabric of her shirt tearing under them. It lifted her with ease and began to climb back through the rift in the wall.

  I was too numb and cold and terrified to do anything.

  And what could I have done anyway?

  It stepped into the darkness on the wall and pulled her through behind it.

  I know that I had closed her eyes. I know it for a fact. I know that she had looked like she was sleeping. So why were her eyes open now, and why was there a look of open mouthed pleading on her frosted dead face?

  The darkness closed around her as she went, leaving the wall perfectly intact.

  The light in the room seemed to normalize. A coating of frost lay on everything.

  I forced myself to my feet. Although my lips were numb and my tongue was a bit sluggish I said “Fox, incendiary rounds.” He pulsed. The thing probably wasn’t coming back, but if it did I wanted to be able to d
o more than just throw keys at it.

  There was another sound now, from out in the main part of the apartment.

  Scratching.

  I staggered down the hall and opened the front door. Babd was there, frantic. Bits of foam lined her mouth.

  “Come with me,” she said in a low hiss and ran down the main corridor toward the stairs.

  I followed, willing my legs to propel me even though they still felt like columns of sand. I kept Fox in my hand. At this point, I didn’t care if anyone came out of their rooms and saw.

  Gwen lay on the floor in the stairwell, eyes wide and unfocused. The muscles in her arms and legs spasmed without any kind of coordination. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. Every now and then, a little uhn sound escaped her mouth.

  “What happened?” I said.

  “The Being,” said Babd. “The Being from the Outer Forth. I wanted to help you, and she was going to open the door. We did not make it down the hallway before she fell. I dragged her here.”

  “Are you okay?” I said.

  “Yes,” said Babd. “This was not my first encounter. But she has special sensitivity. I fear she is damaged.”

  My mind was racing and trying to apply what little knowledge I had of first aid. None of it was relevant to psychic shock from being magically sensitive and in close proximity to something like I’d just encountered.

  It had to be psychic. That made the most sense. I suppose that it could have routed through whatever it was that made her magically sensitive. And what about that? What if a different organization of the striations on the endoplasmic reticulum was enough to feel magic but not harvest it? I’d never really thought about it before. Later.

  If Fox-the-gun were hooked up to the Internet, I could have it make us a Valium injectable to stop the muscle spasms, but he wasn’t. I didn’t know the chemical compositions, and there’s no way I could describe it well enough to have him synthesize it. I had to get on that upgrade, stat.

  “Babd,” I said. “Can you, like, go in there?”

  “Yes,” said Babd, “but there is no guarantee that she is somewhere that I can find her.”

  “Do you think you could help?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Go. Do whatever you can.”

  I stood, Fox at the ready in my hand. Just in case.

  Babd laid her head on Gwen’s stomach.