by D V Wolfe
“Canniba….” I caught myself, “Cannabis farming. I was...picking pot and a dog…”
“Yeah,” Noah said, narrowing his eyes, “right.” I closed my eyes to force the bile rising in my throat back down. When I opened them again Noah wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were on my arm but his expression seemed to be focused somewhere inside himself. He took my arm, one hand on either side of the wound, enclosing it between his palms. I sucked in a breath feeling the pressure on either side of the jagged, torn skin.
“Ok,” Noah said. “This is going to hurt like hell.”
And he did not lie.
I screamed into the night and my eyes rolled back. I opened them again and all I could see was red. I puked and heaved and shook and then it started over. The whole time, Noah didn’t move. My arm was trapped in his hands like a vice. I felt my flesh sizzling under his palms. I smelled roasting meat and my legs gave way. My ass hit the cracked pavement and Noah crouched down beside me, his hold on my arm becoming looser now. Slowly, the pain turned from burning unbearably hot to a dull ache. I finally looked over at it and I saw my bicep was black.
“Cauterized,” Noah said. “It won’t bleed now. I didn’t hold on too long. It should heal ok. I...It'll probably scar. I can’t really do anything about that.”
I spit the taste of bile on the ground between my bent knees and gingerly made a fist with my right hand.
“Thanks,” I wheezed.
Noah nodded and stood.
I’ve seen some weird shit in my line of work, but this was still a first for me. I guess it said something about him that he didn’t use his flaming hands to set my hair on fire or burn my eyes out right off the bat. He didn’t exactly seem delighted by his power. His shoulders were slumped and he’d turned away from me.
I pulled myself up Lucy’s bumper with my left arm and pushed through the vision of the town farrier, Orson Barnes, swatting at his leather apron, trying to put the flames on his chest out. I hobbled back to the driver’s side door and slid onto the bench seat. Noah got in beside me and slammed his door shut.
I felt around on the seat and picked up the bottle of Stitch’s. Without the pills, it would have to be enough for now. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if I couldn’t get some replacement pills soon. I took a long pull and held it out to Noah who shook his head.
“What the hell was that?” I asked as I screwed the lid back on.
“That,” Noah said, his gaze fixed on the windshield, “is why I’m out here.”
“Seems like a pretty useful magic trick,” I said, breathing a sigh as the burning visions began to blur together without the nausea. I reached down to the floor and picked up the half-empty box of Peeps, fishing out one of the delectable, sugary bastards.
“Well my girlfriend’s dad didn’t think so,” Noah said. He was angry now, or frustrated. I’d been alone so long I couldn’t really tell the difference between the two anymore.
I didn’t say anything. I just set the bottle down on the seat between us and held the box of Peeps out to him. He ignored it and I set the box down next to the whiskey.
“It was homecoming,” Noah began. “I didn’t have the money for a limo but Amy's uncle let us borrow his ’67 Mustang. My girlfriend, Amy, was so excited. She had her hair done at a fancy salon. She said they’d taken hours spraying her with hairspray to get her curls stiff enough to support all the flowers. On the way to the dance, she said we should park behind the football stadium. So we did and we were uh ...kissing and ...you know... and I was trying to unzip her dress, when…”
This wasn’t going anywhere good.
Noah leaned the side of his head against the cab window. In the dim wash reflected back from the headlights, I saw him close his eyes.
“I had an erection.”
I choked back a laugh.
“She touched my penis,” Noah said quietly. “A girl touched my penis and I set her on fire.”
I blamed the blood loss. I choked again.
“Her hair caught first,” Noah continued. “And all that hair spray…”
“Jesus,” I breathed.
“I couldn’t put her out. My hands were on fire and it was making it worse. My clothes, hers, the car. Everything was burning. She died before the fire truck got to us. Someone across the street had seen the flames coming from the Mustang. She died and it was my fault. Everyone was so angry at me. I was scared, so I ran,” Noah said. His voice had become monotone as if he were reading a prepared speech. “Amy’s dad came after me, called me a psychopath. Said I set Amy on fire when she wouldn’t have sex with me. I tried to jump a train like you see in the movies, but there weren’t any open boxcars. So, I stole a car but it ran out of gas a couple of hours outside of town and I’ve been on foot ever since. ”
I picked up the bottle and held it out to him again. “Sorry Noah.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“I can’t,” Noah said, pushing the bottle back towards me. “Alcohol…”
“I’m not Prohibition Patty, Noah. I’m not going to turn you in for having a belt or two when you clearly need it.”
He stared at me, “Alcohol… it’s flammable.”
“Oh,” I said. “Shit. Nevermind.” I tucked the bottle under the seat and held up the box of Peeps again. “What about a Peep? I’m pretty sure they’d just melt if you lit them on fire.”
Noah made a face, “No thanks.”
I shrugged and dropped the box back onto the seat between us before turning back to the steering wheel. “Well, I’m heading for Jessup,” I said. “If you still feel like catching a ride.”
“Thanks,” Noah said, his voice more confident now. “On one condition.”
I cut my eyes to him, “What?”
“In case something happens and I have to testify against you in court, you have to tell me your name.”
I blew out a sigh. “Well that fiery hand trick of yours seems to have perked you right up.”
He just stared at me. “Bane,” I said. “You can call me Bane.” I put the truck in gear and eased back onto the road.
“Bane?” He said, “that’s a…” I turned to look at him. “...nice name.” He finished. We were quiet for a few minutes as the road hummed under Lucy’s tires.
“So what really bit you?” He asked.
My status quo was to never be honest when it came to what happened on the job at least not to innocents who would shit their shorts if they knew what was really out there. Not that they’d believe me anyway if I did tell them, but this Noah kid was different. There was something strange about him too. Maybe he’d understand, but then again, maybe he wouldn’t. What the hell, maybe if I told him the truth he’d think I was insane and wouldn’t ask any more questions. Or he’d be so scared, he’d shit his pants and then he wouldn’t ask any more questions.
“Sister Smile,” I said on a burp. The whiskey, along with the marshmallow-y sugar, was starting to set in and the warm tingling was forming a comfortable cloudy wall between my brain and the pain in my arm.
“Who?” Noah asked.
“Sister Smile. She’s a seer. A...hunting buddy, well, ex-buddy of mine told me about her. I needed some help pinning down where… It's a long story. Anyway, she’s the head of a tribe up here.”
“Native Americans?”
I snorted. “I wish. No. Cannibals.” I could feel the disbelief on Noah’s face in the dark and I couldn’t help myself. “Yeah, see they call her Sister Smile because she ripped her own teeth out years ago during a ritual and now, from every poor bastard she eats, she takes a tooth as a trophy and rams it into her gums…” Noah rolled the window down and stuck his head out. “So each new ‘meal’ she has is eaten with the teeth of the old. Some superstition thing. Or I don’t know, maybe it helps her see things better.” I heard Noah heave. “Well, we’re a fun pair tonight,” I said. I felt around under my seat, enjoying being able to move my fingers on my right hand without wanting to puke. I came up with a water bottle this time. I
rolled it across the bench seat to him as he leaned back, wiping his mouth with the short sleeve of his shirt.
“That’s disgusting,” Noah said quietly.
“Doesn’t make for good dinner conversation,” I said. “Well anyway, Sister Smile expected payment for her seeing. I brought her money, but it turns out she wanted a literal pound of flesh.”
“How’d you get away?” Noah asked.
“Grenade,” I said on a yawn.
We were quiet for a few miles and I felt my heart rate picking up again as the constant clock ticked in my head. The burning bodies were a shadowy haze in the ditches which was less horrifying and distracting, making it possible for me to think. Unfortunately, thinking wasn’t always helpful. Mostly, it just gave me anxiety right now. Too much to do and too little time. Distraction is what I needed. I reached for the radio knob. At the moment, having this kid riding with me was kind of another distraction I was thankful for. Of course, it wasn’t safe and I’d drop him off at the next town, but at this second, I had to admit, it was kind of nice having someone sitting next to me.
Over the static-enhanced Allman Brothers, Noah asked, “So why are you going to Jessup?”
I smiled, an idea taking me by surprise. “Noah,” I said, turning to him. “You wanna make twenty bucks?”
2
"Uh, what would I have to do to get the twenty bucks?" Noah asked, whimpering again.
“Nothing that would require that whimper,” I said.
The truck cab was suddenly filled with the high-pitched ring of my cell phone, the newest little annoyance in my life. “Hang on,” I said to Noah. I started feeling around the seat for it. Noah bent down, dug around by his feet, and came up with the phone. He handed it to me and I flipped it open, “Yeah?”
“So I’ve got some potentially shit news.”
I smiled, “Great to hear from you too, Nya. If there’s one thing I can always count on from you, it’s that you’ve got ‘potentially shit news’. Hit me.”
I could almost feel her annoyance rippling down her long dark braid on the other end of the line, “Not always,” she snapped, “sometimes it’s gone from ‘potential’ to just ‘shit news’, not that you’d recognize the difference. Where are you?”
“About an hour outside of Jessup, Pennsylvania.”
“What the hell are you doing in Pennsylvania?”
“Oh I thought I’d come out for the apple picking,” I said.
“Wrong state and wrong time of year,” Nya said.
“Or get one of those two-person bicycles and ride around and look at the leaves,” I said.
“Also wrong state and wrong time of year. Two for two. Why are you really there?”
I sighed. “Walter had that report of a Rawhead torturing kids.”
“Yeah…” Nya said. “So?”
“Well, Rawheads are shifty assholes and Walter can’t get a solid lock on location for this one so I had to find a Seer that could give me an address so I didn’t have to go door-to-door all over the state.”
“Oh no,” Nya groaned. “Seers are crazy fuckers. Where did you go?”
“You remember Byron Tucci?”
“‘Buy-your-own’ Byron, the mooch?” Nya asked.
“Yeah,” I said and pressed on before she could argue. “Well he said he knew about this Seer up here that lived in a campground outside of Lancaster.”
“Fuck,” Nya said.
“Turned out to be Sister Smile,” I said.
“The H.A.N.D. Tribe leader? The fucking cannibal?”
“That’s the one. Well, she was able to give me directions at least, but it almost cost me an arm.”
“Bane, what the hell,” Nya said. “You have to be more careful. You’ve got enough problems without having to relearn how to shoot and tie your shoes.”
“It was my right arm,” I said. “So shooting wouldn’t be too much of a problem but it would slow down reloading. Point taken about the shoe tying.” I wanted off the topic as quickly as possible. Nya knew what I had to do, but she didn’t like me doing it and wasn’t shy about telling me so. As painful as it was to disappoint her, I still had to do it. Something inside me was warm though, knowing that Nya cared if I was bleeding from the head, or in this case, the arm. She’d become what I imagined having a sister would be like. Noah started scratching his head next to me, drawing my attention. Probably not a good idea to tell Nya about him. Strictly speaking, hunters don’t interact with innocents unless they have to. Too many questions, awkward visits from psychologists or the police, and usually straight jackets are involved. Not to mention the fact that innocents are always a one hundred percent liability.
“So are you ok?” Nya asked. “How bad is your arm?”
“Oh I’m good. Got it all fixed up,” I said, twitching my right fingers tighter around the phone.
“You stopped and had a doc look at it?” Nya asked, disbelief coating every word.
“It’s taken care of,” I said, not wanting to lie but not really wanting to get into it with her.
“If it’s another one of your stupid sock and duct tape bandages, I hope you get gangrene.”
“That’s a nice thought,” I said. “Now what was the ‘potentially shit news’ you had that was ‘potentially shit’ enough for you to stop at what I’m guessing is a truck stop to call me on a payphone?” Nya had a thing about cell phones. She wouldn’t carry one or use one. She had insisted that I get one so she could reach me, but she preferred payphones even though they were becoming scarce.
“Public phone booth outside a bar,” Nya corrected me.
“That would have been my second guess,” I said.
“Bane,” Nya said, her voice was serious now. “There’s something bad out there and it’s gunning for you.”
I paused before replying, “And this is new?”
“Bane, something has singled you out. Personally. Not just the regular shit that is usually trying to ‘kill you back’ when you hunt it. More like you’re Hell’s Fredo and the Godfather is sending you an air kiss. And this thing coming for you is a bad mother from what I can tell.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
Nya sighed. “A couple of supers I have as snitches. They found out about it and because we’re tight, they got word to me so I could tell you.”
“Can you trust them?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Nya said. “It came from a couple of Verits and they have to tell the truth or their little weasel dingleberries fall off.”
“Well shit,” I said. “Should I rent a banquet hall for whatever is about to waltz into my life?”
“Not yet, I’m still digging around trying to figure out what exactly is after you.”
“What,” I said. “Your little weasel spies couldn’t even tell you the make and model of what’s got me in its crosshairs?”
“Sadly no,” Nya said. “They’re two-foot tall and they think everything that isn’t me, is cheese.”
“So they told you, some bad...cheese, is coming for me?”
Nya growled, “Look, I’m about to head over to see a contact. Techie guru. The Verits gave me some facts to check out. Maybe he can help me put it together.”
“What kind of facts?” I asked, tucking the phone into my chin so I could use both hands to steer around a curve. “Were nachos involved? Did it get graphic? Was there a cheese grater? Fondue pot?”
