by Lee Hayton
The fear screwed Tyler’s anus into a pinprick, throbbing with a charley horse as it contracted tighter than ever before. It played a tune as it danced up the ridges of his spine, landing on his shoulders and hauling on the tendons, so they rose up to crowd his neck.
Hiss. Thump. Slither.
The stone mounted in his palm throbbed, aching for the release of returning to its rightful home. It matched the craving shuddering through Tyler’s body. He was desperate for a drink to dull his nerves, dampen down his brain, and soak his weary muscles until they returned to flesh from stone.
“What are you waiting for?” Wilma asked from her position, safely behind him. “Just open up the shower door and see what we’re dealing with.”
The rush of irritation at her flippant tone spurred Tyler into action. He stepped forward, placed his hand on the latch, and pulled the door wide.
A seething mass of snakes fell out. Tangled in each other, they fought and sparred and hissed. As Tyler watched in horror, rooted to the spot like Medusa just turned him to stone, one of the snakes reared back, opened its jaw to an impossible angle, and lunged for another snake, locking its sharp teeth down on the other’s smooth flesh.
“I don’t think—” Wilma’s thought cut off sharply as a figure started to rise out of the writhing swarm. Tyler withdrew a step, terror flooding his system in a rush when his back hit the wall.
Trapped! I’m trapped!
But he’d just misjudged the doorway. Wilma grabbed his shoulder and pulled him through. “What the fuck is that thing?”
A snake slithered free of the others and wriggled with speed toward Tyler. He jumped backward, then again when the snake kept pace. One more step in withdrawal and Tyler felt the enormous bed behind his knees. Without a second thought, he lunged backward onto to king-size mattress, squirming into the center.
Wilma stared at him from the doorway through to the entertainment room, her entire face forming into a question that Tyler couldn’t answer. Too late, he saw that he’d cut off his exit. As more snakes wriggled free of the rising figure, they quickly filled the area between the bed and the door.
“Can snakes climb?” he called out in horror. Wilma shrugged, and Tyler turned to see one with its head swaying above the level of the bed. He raised the hand with the stone in it up in a warding off gesture. No way was he putting it any closer to that… That… Thing!
“I command you to stay away,” Tyler tried to yell. What came out was a soft whimper, riddled with defeat. “Don’t come near me.”
He locked his arms around his knees, making himself as small as possible.
“Tyler, do something!”
Wilma’s voice again. Always nagging. Do this, do that, do the other thing.
“You do something,” he spat out, this time his voice mobilized to produce a yell. “I’m sick of being the one having to perform the heroics all the time. You've got arms and legs, you fight the damn things off!”
Tyler turned back toward the bathroom and screamed. His bladder tightened, impossibly squeezing, then let go. Warmth flooded through his jeans, soaking into the duvet underneath him. Shame colored his cheeks with warm red blood. Tears filled his eyes.
A creature, half-human, half-snake, rose above him, walking out of the bathroom. The snake-woman’s face was broad, a tongue reached out its flicking tip, scenting the air for prey. You soiled yourself. She’ll smell it a mile away.
“Tyler. You have to go over and give her the stone. That’s what the instruction manual said, remember?”
Wilma’s voice sounded like she was yelling at him from another room, another floor. So faint that he didn’t need to pay the tinny words any attention. Good thing, too. With his eyes trying to stay fixed on every snake and his ears tuned for danger, his brain didn’t have the bandwidth to pick up anything else.
“How about this?”
Now Gary was speaking, his voice sounding a little clearer. Wilma shrieked in protest. The warthog must be doing something stupid again. Tyler would know if he just turned his head to see. He kept his eyes—transfixed—on the snake-woman in front of him.
“Gary, don’t!”
A line of flame lit up the room, and Tyler’s attention was finally caught. He turned and saw the line of fire from a Molotov cocktail spreading between him and the doorway.
The snake woman was on the other side. So too was freedom. Tyler curled himself into a smaller ball and hoped that someone would rescue him soon. He wasn’t any good at bearing the world’s magic. Tyler didn’t even have a firm hand on adulting.
“What do you expect me to do?” he yelled at the snake woman.
She writhed and twisted her body. As Tyler waited, a snaked wriggled out of her nostril and fell to the floor.
He retched, despair and fear overwhelming him.
“You mussst give me the ssstone.”
The horrific creature stretched out her neck—her impossibly long neck—and twisted her head to face Tyler, almost within touching distance.
“The ssstone belongs to me!”
“Nobody ever mentioned that the rightful owner was a grotesque snake monster,” Tyler shouted. He shook his head in firm denial. “I don’t believe you. If this were true, somebody would have thought to tell me along the way.”
“Tyler!”
Wilma again. Can’t you shut the hell up, girl? I’ve got bigger troubles on my mind than what you’re feeling every single second of the day!
“The scriptures were written in the book. Didn’t you read the bloody things? You have to press the stone into the snake woman’s belly for the balance of power in the universe to be restored!”
As if Tyler had time for reading! Besides, the book clearly must be fiction, if that was what it said.
While the fire gorged on the alcohol, sending a choking cloud of acrid smoke into the air, the snake woman pulsated. After a few seconds of writhing closer and closer, she presented her stomach. A mass of snakes were coiled there. She seemed pregnant with their tiny bodies.
That can’t be right! Snakes come from eggs.
However the snakes had gotten into this world, it didn’t matter. There was no way in hell Tyler was sticking his hand into that struggling mess.
He felt a feather-light touch against his right hand and looked down to see a green snake looking up at him through wide, slitted eyes. Tyler flicked his arm out, sending it flying across the room. It struck the wall with force, leaving a bloody stain as its body fell limply to the floor.
“My babies. Don’t hurt my babies.”
The snake-woman twisted and moved at lightning speed to investigate the collapsed form. A split-second later, her face hung in front of Tyler’s again, accusation written in every feature.
“Give me the stone. Its destiny is with me!”
Tyler held out his hand, having to peel his fingers back from the pink, glowing rock with his opposite fingers.
“You want it, you take it.”
“That’s not how it works, Tyler.”
Gary. He’d spent too many hours in the company of whining Wilma, obviously. How come everyone in his entourage was suddenly more versed in what should happen, than Tyler was himself?
“You need to place it in her belly,” Gary recited the instruction as though it was a recipe to broil steaks with on the grill. “Put your hand into the snakes for a few minutes, and then she’ll be able to accept the offering.”
A few minutes!
Tyler shook his head. There was so much NO attached to his emotions that it was hard to express.
“I’d rather burn to death slowly in this fire than do that!”
Not that the fire offered much in the way of diversion. With the alcohol quickly burned through, it ate its way through a bit of carpet and discovered that it was fire retardant. The flames soon died down and then disappeared.
“You mussst place the ssstone in alliance with the prophecy!”
Nope.
Tyler kicked another snake out of his way, gag
ging, then slid off the side of the bed. He walked back out the door into the entertainment center. Slamming it shut, Tyler ignored his friends and turned and ran for the elevator.
“What are you doing?” Wilma cried out. “You can’t abandon the journey now. Go back and stick the stone into the snake’s belly!”
SO MUCH NOPE.
Tyler turned his head to one side as the vomit came bolting up his throat to spatter on the floor. The taste was rich and tangy with acid. He’d prefer to scoop it up cold from the floor and eat it than ever go near a snake again.
The lift doors banged open, and Tyler stepped inside, pushing the down button repeatedly. Sweat was pouring from his forehead, streaming down his face as quickly as tears.
“Tyler!”
The elevator doors closed, and it descended through the levels. As each floor decreased in number, so too did the racing of Tyler’s heart.
Until the walls of the elevator fell away and left him clinging, screaming to a wire, hanging in the black emptiness of deep space.
“Dude. Are you okay?”
Tyler opened one eye with caution, his body still tensed against a coming fall. He lay on the ground, his body pressing into the cooling sand. He’d been in the third trial for so long, the sun had fallen out of the sky.
Tyler remembered the last few minutes spent in the penthouse and jumped up to his feet, turning away from Wilma and Gary’s concerned faces. He brushed the sand off his fly. The material there was bunched up from sitting in the same position for far too long, but it was dry. As soon as his fingers registered the fact, he felt the drag of a full bladder.
“I think so,” Tyler ventured. Nothing in his voice matched the words.
“Where’s the instruction manual?” Wilma asked. Tyler looked at her nonplussed, flushing as he remembered his bitter thoughts about her when faced with his worst fear.
“The manual?”
Wilma sighed and planted her hands on her hips. “Wasn’t that what you were doing? Isn’t that why Gary and I have desiccated ourselves in the middle of the desert all day?”
A horn started to blare, over and over until Tyler raised his hands to his wounded ears. A final neon-pink sign rose up out of the sand in front of him.
“Third Trial: FAILED.”
“Well, fuck you then!” Tyler shouted, unable to hear himself between his makeshift earmuffs and the continuing blare of the horn. “Keep your stupid stone!”
He held his glowing hand out in front of him, willing the stone to drop to the sand. It held fast, the yellow lines that looped it securely to his flesh tightening at the confusion of thoughts he sent its way.
The horn stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and the sign blanked out, floating in Tyler’s eyes for a few moments as an afterthought.
The chance for information was gone.
“What happened?” Gary stood next to him, reaching out a tentative hand to lay on top of Tyler’s arm. “Was it bad?”
Tyler began to shake. In the dim light, every movement in the shadows turned into the wriggle of a snake. The blood drained from his face, and if his stomach hadn’t been so empty, he would have another battle on his hands.
“I failed,” Tyler said. “We’re not going to get any help.”
“Well,” Wilma said, shifting from foot to foot, “can’t you just have another go?”
The shaking grew worse. Tyler stepped toward the car, hoping to cover the embarrassing physical display of his fear.
“Tyler? Can’t you try again?”
“No. I think that was a one-shot deal.”
Wilma hesitated, looking to Gary for support. “Could you check?”
Tyler turned to them. Anger built up in a storm inside him. Not at his friends, at himself. He hated his stupidity, his weakness, his fear. Why couldn’t he just have shoved his hand into the creature’s belly? Anybody else would have.
At the thought of the writhing mass of smooth, scaly bodies, Tyler bent double and began to retch. Nothing came up. He had nothing left to give.
Even when he’d tried his best, Tyler didn’t measure up. He never would.
Wilma ran to his side, rubbing his back and snapping her fingers at Gary who walked to the car and produced a bottle of clean, clear water. Tyler rinsed out his mouth, glad that the darkness of the night hid his tears. A moment later, a hiss in the dark had him wishing the entire world stayed flooded with light, twenty-four seven.
“So, what happens now?”
Tyler shrugged. He felt like crawling into bed and not coming out again. Sleep for days, that was all he was good for. Couldn’t even have a drink like a man anymore. Well, maybe that was because he wasn’t one.
“Is there really no way for a Mulligan?” Gary asked. “We did travel a long way to get here. Seems a pity to leave, if there’s another option.”
“Unless you can see a giant pink neon sign saying, ‘The Trials’ then you’re out of luck.”
Gary looked over his shoulder as if to check and Tyler laughed. He put his hand up to his nose, pinching the bridge between finger and thumb.
“This has been one of the strangest days ever,” he said with slow emphasis. “I just want to go somewhere with normal people doing standard things where I don’t need to think about anything.”
“Get in the back,” Gary said, slapping Tyler on the shoulder. “I had a sleep while you were off doing”—he waved the empty water bottle above his head—“whatever. I’ll drive.”
Even Wilma didn’t bother to contradict the decision. She meekly climbed into the passenger seat and looked at Tyler through concerned eyes.
“Are you going to be okay?”
Tyler nodded as he lay down. There wasn’t quite room enough to stretch his legs out entirely, but anything not crawling with snakes seemed perfect to him. “I’m sure I’ll be fine once I have a rest.”
“Do you have any idea of where to go next?” Wilma poked Tyler in the shoulder when he didn’t respond. “Where to?”
Tyler’s mind rolled through a limited set of options. To Vegas, except he didn’t know who they were looking for or where they’d find them. Not to mention, that if the real owner of the stone turned out to be a snake-beast, then he’d prefer to cut his arm off at the wrist and throw it at her than stick his hand into that writhing mess.
Home sounded good. The safe familiarity of his trailer. Of course, as experience had shown him, the walls were no defense against a man armed with a gun. Reluctantly, Tyler realized that he must carry on forward before he could retreat back.
What had been the first piece of advice that Julius threw out at him? Get hold of a family tree.
Well, there was only one place he could find one. Not a journey Tyler had ever wanted to make, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Not when the alternative was a giant snake.
“Come on, Tyler.” Wilma shook his shoulder again, keeping Tyler awake. “Got an address for us?”
Tyler sighed. “I think we need to go visit my dad.”
Chapter Thirteen
Tyler struggled awake. His breath came in short pants, sweat slicked back the hair from his brow. Even as his eyes adjusted to the room, tracing the familiar lines of a cheap motel, Tyler slid his hands up and down his legs, his torso, wiping away the slithering bodies of creatures that weren’t there.
“You okay, dude?” Gary whispered from a foot away. They were sharing one of the double beds, while Wilma slept beside them on the other.
“Just a bad dream.”
“Snakes, was it?”
Tyler jerked in surprise, making the bedsprings squeak. “Yeah, it was. How’d you know?”
“S’what you’ve always feared, init? The snakes.”
While his mind tried to fathom out if this was yet another test, Tyler swiped his wrist across his forehead, getting rid of the worst of the sweat. “How’d you know that? I never told you.”
Gary gave a small laugh, and even in the darkness, Tyler could see him shake his head. “You didn’t need to tell
me, mate. I’ve seen you jump a foot in the air at the sight of a garden hose left off the coil.” He gave Tyler an elbow in the ribs. “Unless you’re deadly scared of tubing, I reckoned it must be snakes.”
A long pause stretched out between them, Tyler marveling at the astuteness of his friend.
“That, and you were crying out, ‘Not the snakes, not the snakes,’ just before you woke up.”
Despite the fact his heart was still hammering fear throughout his body, Tyler joined in with Gary’s giggles. He needed the emotional release and if not a laugh then it would be a scream.
“I guess those trials were bad, then.”
Tyler tried to find the words to describe how the experiences—not just the last one but all of them—made his skin crawl and his soul empty of morality. After a few moments spent gaping like a fish out of water, he gave up and just answered, “Yes.”
“What did you see?” Gary paused, and when Tyler didn’t answer, he added, “When we first pulled up at that particular piece of desert. What was it that told you it was there?”
Tyler started to giggle again, despite himself. “Pink neon signs,” he said. “They stretched higher than a movie screen, straight up into the sky.”
Gary chuckled again, abruptly cutting off when Wilma turned over in the other bed. For a while, the two men held their breath until Wilma’s breathing settled into its previous slow and steady rhythm. As soon as they both thought she was back asleep, they burst into another round of laughter, mostly wheezed out under their breath.
“The whole thing was so weird, it’s hard to describe.” Tyler turned to the window, wanting the comfort of the parking lot lights to reassure him that he was back in the land of normality. Or whatever passed for it in this world nowadays.
“The trials were like dreams. I’d be plonked down into some completely bizarre storyline and instead of questioning it, or thinking it wasn’t real, my mind just filled in all the blanks.”
When Tyler’s pause stretched out too long for comfort, Gary turned over to face him. “Dreams are good like that. I love it when you start flying or some other good shit, and instead of being filled with wonder, you’re just like—I hope I can make it home in time for tea.”
