Strays

by Remy Wilkins

Rodney shook his head. “What’s that?”

  “Well, angels are white light, and if you refract light, you get the full spectrum. A rainbow. So I thought that I could be the counterpart to the Warrior of Light.”

  “The Warrior of Light that fought the Thunder Snake?”

  “Yup. I figure the Warrior of Light and the Rainbow Warrior would make a pretty good team. What do you think, Rod?”

  “He’d probably hate your rainbow bee suit. Warriors are supposed to have cool armor.”

  Lucasta emitted a snooty hmph!

  Rodney couldn’t stop a smile. “What, Lucasta? What’d I say?”

  “He happens to like wild colors, but you’re right, Rodney, he doesn’t think much of Ray’s posturing.” She pronounced the hes as though she were inflating a balloon.

  “Come on, Lu,” Ray said in a waxy low voice. “I know where I stand in the Kingdom.”

  “In the play pen?”

  “In the trenches.”

  “In the pig sty, you pigheaded ninny.”

  “I’ll do the name calling ’round here.”

  Lucasta scoffed again, then muttered, “Rainbow Warrior.”

  Ray leaned against the crates. “You call yourself a warrior. When was the last time you fought back something aside from the urge to eat more ice cream?”

  Lucasta shot to her feet, dropping the pint of ice cream. Her spoon clattered on the floor. Her blue dress rippled. Her skin started to glow. “You know what I gave up. How dare you? You ignorant lump! You foolish thing!”

  Ray looked over to Rodney, who sat in wide-eyed amazement. “Starting to sound like the little rascals outside.” He gestured with his thumb.

  Lucasta’s light faded, and she sat back down. She picked up both the ice cream and the spoon, cleaning the spoon on the hem of her dress. “Anyway, he thinks you’ve overstepped your boundaries, as he told you back when you first started this harebrained plan.” She spat out the hes as if they were sour.

  “Well, that is . . . your, like, personal opinion.” Ray’s voice was a soft, backpedaling hrumph.

  Rodney blinked and shook his head at Lucasta. Her biting tone cracked his confusion, he finally understood. “Wait, you’re the Warrior of Light? You fought the Thunder Snake?”

  Lucasta stabbed at the ice cream carton with a spoon. “We didn’t call it the Thunder Snake.”

  “Whadja call it?”

  Her eyes brightened. “Liv-ya-than.”

  “Leviathan,” Ray muttered, clearly pouting.

  “Whoa.”

  Lucasta leaned forward. “‘Whoa’ is right. Did you see how big he was?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her eyes leapt with light. “We battled for a million million miles straight down.”

  “In space?” Rodney felt his heartbeat lift and fly.

  “Yup. Just me. I couldn’t deflect the sorry beast. Tried to knock him into Jupiter. That’s a fun place.”

  Ray yawned. Lucasta ignored him.

  “Once we hit earth, I knew that I had to do something desperate. That’s when I sealed him in stone.”

  “Ray says demons are subject to stone.”

  “Yes, it’s a wonder he hasn’t tried building a cathedral in his backyard.”

  Ray grumbled under his breath. Rodney suppressed a laugh, then asked, “So did that kill him?”

  Lucasta stabbed at her ice cream. “No. Subjecting them to stone doesn’t kill them. Just traps them.”

  “Puts them in corporeal form though. Like cruentation.” Ray smirked.

  “Not like cruentation,” Lucasta said firmly.

  Ray looked at Rodney. “Pretty much exactly like cruentation.”

  “They’re trapped in stone. They can’t move.”

  “Unless they escape.”

  “That’s why you protect it.”

  Rodney realized that this had been an ongoing argument between Ray and Lucasta. Both their voices were getting testy and stern. They glared at each other, continuing their feud in silence.

  Rodney looked at the two warriors, each with their mission, pursued with passion. Then he looked over at Pinwheel, whose head was lolled back and tongue hanging out. A newborn angel in flight from all he’d known.

  “Who am I?” Rodney asked, breaking the staredown between Ray and Lucasta.

  “What do you mean?” Lucasta asked.

  “I don’t know who I am or where I stand in this fight,” Rodney said.“Well, I mean, Pinwheel is escaping the demons, you’re guarding the Thunder Snake, Ray is—actually I don’t know who Ray is either.”

  Ray put on a hurt expression. “What do you mean? I’m one of the good guys.”

  “Yeah, but you built a way for demons to enter the world.”

  “I built them a noose to put their necks in.”

  Lucasta shot Ray a look, but drew near to Rodney. “Ray is on the side of the angels, even if his plan is foolish.”

  “Bold,” Ray said under his breath.

  “Foolishly bold,” Lucasta amended, but then, kneeling, she said, “And as for you, Rodney, have you strayed?”

  “I—I . . .” Rodney looked to his sneakers. “I guess. I mean, yes.” He blinked back tears.

  “Do you stray now?”

  Rodney looked up at Lucasta. Her face radiated peace, but her look was severe. “No,” Rodney said firmly. “I want to be here. I want to fight with you.”

  “Rodney Abner Niemand, do not stray from this path.” She waited until he nodded, then said, “Peace be with you.”

  Swallowing the heaviness that had settled in the back of his throat, Rodney inhaled the honey-fumed air.

  “Anyway,” Ray said, drawing the attention back to himself, “whether I’m a Rainbow Warrior or not, I still think this is what they’d wear.” He crossed his arms. “Plus, it’s pretty.”

  Rodney rolled his eyes. “I think it looks silly,” he said, and stuffed the final bite of bread into his mouth. His cheeks bulged as he chewed.

  Ray chuckled. “You saving that bit a bread for later, Rodney?” Ray brushed at his own chin to indicate something on Rodney’s face.

  Rodney felt a chunk of bread stuck to his chin with honey. He scooped it into his mouth, shyly smiling. His dad would frown at him while he ate. Critique every stray fleck of food or miseaten noodle that loudly slurped into his mouth. “What are you doing over there?” he’d say. “Eat it, don’t throw it all over your face.”

  His mom loved it, though. She had a whole binder of milk-mustache photos, both of him and of her. His dad would quietly push himself from the table whenever the camera came out, but mom would clown for half an hour in the middle of dinner with him. Noodle scars, she’d call the stripes on his cheeks from slurping up a noodle too fast. Her favorite things to photograph were corn teeth and asparagus tusks.

  Rodney’s eyes went glassy. He felt his head droop and slide.

  “Why don’t you get some sleep, Rodney. We just might have a long day tomorrow.”

  Rodney rubbed his eyes and stood. “Yeah, okay. ’Night, Ray. ’Night, Lucasta.”

  “Goodnight, little saint,” said Lucasta as he entered the Honey Hold, where it was darker.

  He chose a corner and nudged the door closed with his shoe. He placed his bat next to him. In the dark the bat emitted its gold light, warning of demons. His eyelids fell, and a great heaviness covered him and pulled him into rest.

  * * *

  Rodney was standing atop the Corleonis in the bright morning light. The sun moved through the sky like a swift turtle through a pond, ripples of heat washing over him. He looked far below him, to the thick green grass, and saw his mother waving at him. He had just raised his hand to wave back when he saw Ray and Pinwheel running out of the forest. The roof buckled beneath him, wood cracked and glass shattered and metal groaned, and he felt himself begin t
o topple.

  He fell, and the lights went out. His cheek struck the ground of the Honey Hold and shouts of alarm woke him. He sat up. Another clash and clatter caused him to leap to his feet, out of his stupor. He pulled back the door, and his spine went cold, paralyzed at the sight of a tree driven through the roof. Ray stood on the smashed spearhead of the tree and swung his broom at the demons entering through the pierced ceiling. Pinwheel and Lucasta were behind a barrier of crates tossing eggs at the charging demons.

  Rodney saw that the tree had knocked over a couple of the fridges, crushing the stacks of eggs they’d laid out earlier as well as spilling their clutch of eggs. Yolk oozed to the ground. Lights flickered and died. Demons roared as they rushed down the tree to meet Ray’s honey-soaked broom. At its touch they burst into dust and howls.

  There was a boom and the door behind Lucasta and Pinwheel buckled.

  “They’re coming through!” Rodney yelled. His honey-glazed bat flared as he approached the fray. There was another thunder from the wood door and a great crack as its middle shattered from the outside blow. A third heave sent the head of the battering ram through. Demons poured in.

  Rodney saw the furry blur of Mordecai savaging a hapless demon who had fallen from the ceiling. Lucasta and Pinwheel retreated to stand by Rodney as the door was knocked clear of its hinges. Ray jumped down from his perch on the tree and swung wildly to keep the horde back. He slipped on the slimy, yolk-covered floor. The demons surged to bury him, clawing and biting the air.

  “Ray!” Rodney yelled, but was frozen to the spot.

  “Back!” was all he could reply. But before he was crushed under the wave of demons, a gray stone shot through the cleft in the door and bulleted into the backs of Ray’s attackers. It was Ebenezer, ears flat and claws out. He mauled two demons, sending them writhing and flailing in fear.

  Ray was able to get to his knees and take out a couple of demons still on him with a couple of looping swings. A third attacker dodged Ray’s backswing and struck him with a black fist. The demon roared and crouched to lunge until the fuzzy girth of Thundertrump barreled through the door and undercut him.

  Together the two rabbits scattered the demons at the door. Thundertrump followed them out into the night. Ebenezer joined Ray in retreat. Ray grabbed Rodney by the shoulders and pulled him into the Honey Hold as the demonic horde flooded the main room.

  Once inside, Pinwheel and Lucasta pushed the doors shut and Ray dropped a thick wood crossbar locking the doors from the inside.

  “Everybody got their fingers?” Ray was breathing hard, but kept an easy grin in place.

  “What happened?” ask Rodney.

  “Little beggars dropped a tree through the roof. How’s that for thinking?”

  Lucasta knelt down next to Mordecai and was checking him for wounds. Mordecai began to lick the honey off her face, and she sputtered laughter with her lips shut tight.

  “What do we do now?”

  Ray cocked his chin and began brushing down the porcupine of his beard. “Hrrm,” he muttered. “Well, don’t think they can get a battering ram in there. Least not one that can take down this door.” He pat it. “White oak. I planned—”

  “Ray!” Rodney barked.

  He frowned.

  “Listen!”

  They put their ears to the door to hear the hoots and hollers of the demons. Ebenezer blurted out a scoff.

  “Heh, they weren’t making any omelets, but they managed to break a whole slew of eggs.”

  Rodney backed up against the barrels of honey. “That’s not going to get rid of all of them.”

  “Oh no, but they won’t be getting in here, either.”

  “So? We got three barrels of honey, a bat, a broom, and that’s it. We’re trapped. Outnumbered and hopelessly surrounded.”

  Ray’s eyes grew big as he turned and put his back to the door. He looked at each person, angel, nephew, demon, dog, rabbit, letting his smile draw them up into his mad joy. “They can’t escape us now.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  AMID THE FLOOD

  The door erupted into thundering, kicks, and Al’s hollering. Otis woke and wiggled out from under his book and onto his feet.

  “Whazzat?” he called. “Al? That you?”

  “’Sme, Otis!”

  Otis cracked open the door and saw Al slumped over, hands on his knees. He was dragging breath into his lungs from some deep faraway place.

  “Al, what’s wrong? What’re you doing? It’s, it’s . . . ” He looked around to find a clock, gave up, and opened the door fully for Al to enter.

  “Dang fool,” he gasped and stumbled in. “One dang fool thing after another.”

  Otis directed him to the couch and went to get him some water. When he returned, the sheriff downed the water, chuckled as he wiped the sweat from his brow, and began to explain his late-night venture. “Went out to check on the boy, Danny.”

  “Ronny.”

  “Ronny, right. Place was dark. Nobody there, so I was driving back out when a coon crossed the road.” He pulled his pink lips into his mouth and made a slashing motion with his hand. “Wrecked the cruiser. Right in the ditch.” He stroked his mustache.

  “So why are you out of breath? He chase you down the road for two miles?”

  Al laughed. “No, I thought I could run here.” He looked up into Otis’s eyes. “I’m not a young man anymore.”

  Otis frowned and looked at his friend. Al did not have the look of a man accustomed to running, nor of a man who thought he could. What would send Al scurrying a quarter mile at night to his house?

  “Well, we can call a guy, help him get your cruiser back on the road.”

  Al stood and ran a hand through his hair. “Naw. I’m beat. I’ll do it in the morning. If you can just drop me off at my house, that’d be great.”

  “You’re going to leave your cruiser in the ditch?”

  “It’ll be fine.”

  Otis tried to dismiss the strange behavior. Perhaps a strange day turns everybody strange. He grabbed his robe and put it on over his T-shirt and flannel pants. He kept his slippers on and jangled the keys to signal to Al he was ready.

  In the car, Otis felt Al grow tense. As they neared, he could see the patrol car tilted nose first into the ditch across from Ray’s driveway. The front door was still open. Otis slowed down and stopped in the road.

  “What are you doing? We don’t need to stop.” Al’s voice was clipped like he was holding his breath.

  “Your door’s wide open, Al. I’ll close it. You got your keys, right?”

  Al made a show of patting his pockets. “Left ’em in the car, I suppose. Good call, Otis.”

  Otis got out and climbed down into the ditch. There was a deep gash in the roadside. The front end of the car was smashed. He looked into the dark interior of the car and noticed that the airbag had been deployed. He reached inside and withdrew the keys, still in the ignition. He climbed up the four-foot embankment with his hands before him.

  “Al, I need to take you to a hospital.”

  Al jumped at Otis’s voice. He was pressed up against his window staring into the dark trees. “What’s that? Oh, I’m fine. I just need to get home.”

  “Your airbag went off. Did you know that?” Otis got in the car and handed over his keys. Once the car was moving, he noticed Al visibly sigh.

  “Yeah, airbags are so touchy. A mighty sneeze would send those things off.”

  “Front end of your car was pretty banged up. Were you trying to avoid the coon or trying to run it over?” He looked over at Al to gauge his response.

  Al’s eyes shrank into anger. “What’re you saying, Otis?”

  Otis returned his eyes to the road. “Nothing, Al. I’ll take you home.” They drove the rest of the way in silence.

  He dropped Al off and wheeled around to return
home. He wondered if Al was mildly concussed from his wreck or if something more had happened. Did Ray have anything to do with it? He began to consider the possibility that Ray had kidnapped the boy or in some way terrorized him. Perhaps he should stop by the house. If someone was hiding up there, they wouldn’t be expecting anyone more after Al had gone.

  Otis let his head rest on the steering wheel as he waited for the last traffic light out of town to turn green. He felt hot in his robe and loosened the belt. He drove slowly, letting his eyes find stars between the cloud gaps. As the light of the city was left behind him the stars were uncovered.

  He pulled into Ray’s driveway and followed it to the bridge. As he drove he noticed the slide and gravel-slurry of a vehicle in great haste. Al’s car, I bet.

  He drove into the clearing, but the darkness did not lessen in the open air. Clouds must have bundled up the sky. He exited the car, wrapping his robe more tightly around himself despite the heat of the night. He crooked a finger down the heel of each slipper to affix them more firmly to his feet. He felt silly trudging down the gravel driveway to spy on his neighbor. Ray is so unstable. It’s only a matter of time until he snaps.

  In the darkness the house could be a Mayan pyramid. There was something ancient about its design, something pagan about its build. It had always been a concern of his to have such a structure nearby.

  The lights were still out, and as he approached, the smell of smoke and char filled his nose. Ray’s burnt out car must still be smoldering. Otis crept up the stairs to the porch, shivering after every creak and complaint of the wood. Softly he touched the front door and paused to listen. He heard nothing.

  He tried the door latch, and it clicked loudly as the bolt withdrew. It opened smoothly. He marveled over the craftsmanship of the door, heavy but well balanced, silent on its hinges. Otis stepped inside. The dim light of the cloud-obscured moon and stars made little difference to the black interior.

  His next step was sticky, like stepping into a puddle of syrup. He looked down, but the light got lost in the layer of whatever covered the floor. He moved deeper into the house, through the foyer and into the middle room, the slime still an inch thick on the ground. The stairs to the second floor spiraled up the wall around a central beam.