Dead Streets n-2

by Tim Waggoner

  Something's wrong here, Matt. Orlock didn't have to bring us down here to tell us about Osseal. He could've told us back in his office.

  Before I could reply, Orlock said, "You needn't bother trying to communicate telepathically. I can hear you as clearly as if you were speaking aloud."

  I turned toward the vampire, intending to demand that he explain what was going on, but then I saw where we'd stopped. Devona and I were standing in a thin, almost invisible circle etched into the marble floor. Orlock, not surprisingly, was standing outside the circle. Before Devona and I could react Orlock raised a hand and a clear dome like dozens of others we'd seen since entering the chamber sprung into existence around us. I started to reach for my. 45, intending to see if the inside of the dome was bulletproof, but I found myself unable to move. I tried to look at Devona to see if she was similarly affected, but I couldn't even turn my head toward her. Instead, I reached out to her mentally.

  Devona?

  I can't move either, Matt. We're caught in some kind of sta sis field. I don't know if it's magical or technological, but in either case my psychic powers have no effect on it.

  The Loa necklace that Papa Chatha had made to protect me from tracking spells blocked all magic. So that meant Orlock's stasis dome was technological in origin. That, or it was magic of such a high order that the necklace couldn't nullify it – which, considering Orlock's vast age, experience and knowledge, was quite possible. Whatever the case, the stasis field worked and we were trapped.

  Orlock spoke then, and though he was on the other side of the dome, we could hear him just fine.

  "I apologize for this, but I hope you'll understand. You're a most unique specimen, Matthew. The only intelligent selfwilled zombie who's ever existed. And now, through no fault of your own, your existence has become endangered. Assuming you aren't destroyed in the process of being recaptured by the Adjudicators, it's doubtful you will survive a second term of incarceration in Tenebrus. And let's be realistic. The odds of you being able to discover who stole Osseal and framed you for the theft before you are captured are exceedingly slim. So you see, I'm really doing you a favor by preserving you here. And as for Devona…" He shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't want you to get lonely. And don't worry. You'll find that time within my domes passes pleasantly enough. I've seen to that."

  He smiled and started to turn to leave, but then he paused. "You know, it is rather ironic that you're now part of my collection. After all, thanks to you, Overkill wasn't able to obtain Scream Queen's voice for me. But you and Devona make more than fitting replacements for it. Scream Queen has a truly remarkable voice – she has both banshee and siren blood in her ancestry, you know. But the way she uses her gift…" He shuddered. "If I don't manage to preserve her voice soon, she'll ruin it beyond repair. Ah well, That's no longer any concern of yours now, is it? Perhaps I'll hire Overkill to make another attempt to capture the voice. With the both of you out of action perhaps she'll succeed this time. Farewell, and I hope you enjoy your stay."

  Orlock turned away then and departed. He was soon out of my view, and since I couldn't move my head to track him, I could only listen to his footsteps as they faded away. A bit later the chamber lights went out and I knew Orlock had returned to his bookstore and might well be on the vox to Overkill at that very moment.

  Inside I was raging with fury at being trapped like this, but frozen as I was, there was damn all I could do about it. I reached out telepathically to Devona once more.

  Still there?

  Sorry I didn't take your warning about the possibility of this being a trap more seriously.

  Don't worry about it. There was no way either of us could've anticipated this.

  I might've been frozen and surrounded by darkness but Devona's mental presence was a comfort to me and I was grateful for it. Orlock's insane, you know.

  No argument there. The longer Bloodborn live the more un stable their minds become if they aren't careful.

  I thought about Devona's father and I couldn't disagree with her assessment.

  So what now? I asked. Since your psychic powers have no effect on the stasis field, what do we do? Stand around frozen and wait for someone to rescue us?

  I'm afraid we'll have a long wait ahead of us, Devona thought. No one knows we're here, except David, and he has no reason to suspect Orlock has captured us. And even if he did, he has no way to get us out.

  He might get words to some of our friends and they might come for us. It was admittedly a thin hope, but right then it was all I had.

  Maybe, Devona thought back, though from the tone of her mental voice, she didn't think much of her chances.

  Speaking of David reminded me of his call and I filled Devona in on our conversation. We "talked" about the revelation that I'd been attacked by two men instead of one, but we came to no conclusion about it.

  At least we won't starve, Devona thought. Stasis fields put all biological functions on hold, so I'll have no need for food and you won't be in any danger of rotting, either. We'll re main preserved just as we are…

  Forever, I finished. I'm sorry you're trapped too. Orlock wanted to preserve me. He just stuck you in here to keep me company. Like I'm a goldfish in a bowl whose owner tossed in another fish to keep the first from getting lonely.

  If I'm here with you, then I'm exactly where I want to be, she thought. I love you.

  I love you, too. But if it's all the same to you, I'm going to keep trying to think of a way out of here.

  There was a hint of amusement to her thoughtvoice. I'll try not to take it personally.

  What do you think Orlock meant there at the end when he said that he made sure time inside the domes passes pleasantly enough?

  I don't know, but it hasn't been a barrel of laughs so far.

  No kidding. Maybe it was just another sign of Orlock's insanity. I A strange feeling came over me then, a dizzy, plummeting sensation as if my body was falling and spinning wildly out of control. I tried mentally calling for Devona but I received no answer. Eventually the sensation of vertigo began to ease and my eyes were filled with light and the sound of voices yelling came to my ears.

  "Daddy, Daddy!'

  FOURTEEN

  I turned off the lawnmower and ran the back of my hand across my forehead to wipe away sweat, though all I managed to do was smear it around. God, it was hot out today.

  I turned toward the pair of children running toward me across the half mown lawn, one boy, one girl, both eleven, both blond-haired like their mother. They came up to me in a flurry of child energy, skin tanned from being outside all summer, their hair bleached almost white from all the sun they'd gotten. They both wore T-shirts and shorts and both were barefoot. I always had a hell of a time getting them to wear shoes when it was warm out, and my first thought was that one of them had stepped on something sharp, a nail or a piece of broken glass. But the guilty expressions on their faces told me neither was injured and I relaxed a bit.

  "What's up, kiddos?" I asked. My lower back gave a twinge and I winced. Devona had been after me to get a riding mower for a while now, but I insisted on using a push mower for the exercise. But this season my back had been putting in its vote for a riding mower too and I was seriously considering breaking down and getting one. After all, I wasn't getting any younger.

  "It's not our fault!" Lily said.

  "You mean it's not my fault," Toby said, giving his sister a sideways glance.

  Lily shot him a dark look that accused him of betraying her before turning her attention back to me. "Not our fault," she insisted.

  I sighed. You know how twins are supposed to be inseparably close? Maybe that was true for identical twins, but for fraternal ones – at least for my twins – that wasn't always the case. Maybe they didn't fight anymore than other siblings, but sometimes it sure seemed like it.

  "What happened? And don't both of you talk at the same time. Lily first."

  Toby pursed his lips in irritation. "Why does she get to go first?" />
  Because she doesn't let her emotions get the better of her, I thought. Out loud I said, "We're going in alphabetical order."

  Lily gave her brother a triumphant smirk before launching into her story.

  "We were playing catch in the backyard near Mom's garden…" she began.

  I already didn't like the sound of this.

  "… when Toby threw the baseball too hard-"

  "I did not!" Toby's hands curled into fists and his cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

  "… and it flew right by me. I tried to catch it, Daddy, really I did!" She lowered her gaze. "But I missed."

  "What happened?" I had a basic idea by that point, but I wanted them to tell me on their own.

  Lily didn't answer and Toby looked at her. When he saw how upset she was, the anger drained out of him. he sighed – sounding too much like me – and said, "You know the Buddha statue Mom has in the garden?"

  "Yes…"

  "The ball hit the statue pretty hard -" he glanced at Lily but she was still looking at the ground – "and, well, the head got knocked off."

  I imagined Buddha's decapitated head lying on the ground amidst Devona's petunias and sunflowers. Something about the image of a headless body struck a strange chord in me, but I didn't know why. I decided to put it out of my mind and I laid a hand on each of my children's shoulders and gave them what I hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

  "It was an accident, guys. Don't worry about it."

  Some of the tension left them then and Lily's head snapped up, her expression suddenly hopeful. "Do you think maybe we can glue the head back on?" she asked.

  " Before Mom gets back?" Toby added.

  I started to answer, but another image flashed through my mind then: I was lying on a table, a nightmarish machine hanging above me, arms protruding from it, each gripping a stainless steel surgical instrument in its hand. The image faded as quickly as it had come, but it was so disturbing that for a moment all I could do was stand there and stare at my children. Eventually, I gave my head a shake to clear it – and for some odd reason I was reassured that it remained solidly attached to my neck.

  I forced a smile.

  "We can give it a try," I said, "but I think we'll need a lot of glue."

  My smile, weak though it was, seemed to reassure the twins further and they smiled back. Before any of us could say anything else, though, we heard the sound of a car approaching and we turned to see Devona driving down the road in her Prius. She honked the horn in greeting as she slowed and then pulled into the driveway. The twins left me and raced across the lawn to greet their mother – and no doubt shower her with love in the hope of ameliorating her reaction when she learned about the fate of her Buddha statue.

  Devona got out of the car. She'd gone out to play tennis with a friend, and she wore a sleeveless white blouse and athletic shorts, and she looked damned good to me. She hadn't returned empty-handed, though. She held a cardboard drink carrier with four cups on it. The twins squealed in delight when she held the carrier out for them to select a pair of drinks, all thoughts of the decapitated Buddha forgotten. They grabbed two, along with a pair of straws, stuck them through the plastic lids, and sipped.

  "Milkshakes!" Toby said.

  "I got chocolate," Lily said, making a face.

  "Mine's strawberry."

  The twins switched cups, took another sip, and were both much happier.

  Devona and I laughed and I started walking over to the car.

  "Why don't you two go play in the backyard some more while I break the news to your mom." I paused. "And I do mean break."

  The twins looked worried again, but I gave them a wink and a smile to let them know everything would be all right. Their own smiles returned and they ran around the side of the house, carrying their milkshakes with them.

  "I decided to run through a drive-thru on my way home," Devona said. She held the drink carrier out to me. "What's your pleasure, Mr. Richter? Chocolate or strawberry?"

  " You're my pleasure, Mrs. Richter."

  I leaned forward and kissed her with a bit more passion than was perhaps decorous for suburbia on a Saturday afternoon out in the open, but what the hell?

  When we parted, I took a chocolate shake, popped a straw in it, and took a long sip.

  "That's good. Doesn't quite hit the spot like a cold beer would right now, but it's an acceptable substitute."

  She grinned as she took a sip of her shake – strawberry, her favorite flavor. Which was of course why I'd taken the chocolate.

  "They didn't have any beer-flavored shakes," she smiled. "Sorry."

  She took another sip and a little spilled out of the corner of her mouth. But instead of being a light pink color, the liquid was a deep crimson.

  "Something wrong?" she asked.

  I realized then that I was staring at the thick red substance trailing down her chin. I touched my own chin to signal her what was wrong, and she reached up and caught some of the liquid with her finger. She frowned as she examined it.

  "That's weird. Maybe they didn't mix it properly and there's a pocket of strawberry syrup at the bottom."

  "Maybe." But that explanation didn't feel right and the substance on Devona's chin didn't look like strawberry syrup so much as it looked like… like… The word refused to come and I found my thoughts drifting back to the yard work that still lay before me.

  Our home was a ranch house sitting at the end of a cul-de-sac bordering a small park. The kids loved the park's playground equipment and the small woods with a stream running through it. Devona loved the large oak trees and weeping willows. Me? I loved living next to a giant yard I didn't have to mow and trees whose leaves I didn't have to rake every autumn. Dealing with my own yard was enough work for me.

  It wasn't quite lunchtime yet and I'd managed to get half the front yard done, but I still had to finish up here and then do the back before I could call it quits for the day. I glanced up at the blazing sun hanging in the summer sky. That is, if I could take the heat for that long. Then again, the Browns were playing this afternoon. Maybe I could finish the front now and put off doing the back until tomorrow.

  Devona reached out with her tongue to lap up the crimson liquid on her chin then and I found the action to be at once both arousing and disturbing. She frowned.

  "Funny. It doesn't taste like strawberry. It tastes different. Better." She smacked her lips thoughtfully. "Sweet, but it has a kick to it, almost like it contains caffeine. Just a little bit gave me a jolt of energy." She looked at me then. "Wait a minute, what were you saying a minute ago about having bad news to tell me?"

  "The kids were messing around in the backyard and accidentally broke the head off your Buddha statue."

  "Really? Oh, well. It's not like we can't get it fixed, right? We'll just run on over to the Foundry and…" She trailed off. "Why did I say that? What's the Foundry?"

  "I don't know." But the truth was I did know. At least, it felt like I did, somewhere deep down inside me. Only I couldn't quite remember. I decided not to worry about it, realized I seemed to be deciding that a lot lately, then decided not to worry about that.

  I took another sip of my shake and my mouth was filled with a taste so foul that I turned to spit the muck out on the grass.

  "What's wrong?" Devona asked.

  "Damned if I know. It suddenly tastes like shit. Literally. Like the kind of swill they serve at Hem-" I frowned, unable to finish the word, though for the life of me I didn't know why I couldn't finish.

  An unusually cool breeze blew across the yard then, causing both Devona and I to shiver.

  "Something's not right," she said, a note of fear in her voice.

  I knew just how she felt but once more, I decided not to worry about it. No, not decided. I couldn't worry about it.

  Devona held her shake in one hand and the empty drink carrier in the other, so I couldn't take hold of her. Instead I stepped forward and put my arm around her waist.

  "Tel
l you what, Mrs. Richter. The kids are busy making more mischief in the backyard and you and I are both hot and sweaty – me from my Herculean efforts to tame this lawn, you from exercising your athletic prowess on the tennis court. Would you like to join me in a cool, soothing shower?"

  Devona eyed the half-finished lawn. "It's not like you to leave a job undone."

  I kissed her gently on the neck. Her sweat coated skin had the tang of salt. I found it to be erotic and I felt my body responding.

  "Some sacrifices are worth making."

  I leaned in to kiss her lips this time – trying not to think about how she'd lapped up the crimson liquid a moment ago – but before we could kiss, the sun dimmed as if suddenly blocked by clouds. The sky had been clear only a moment ago.

  We both looked up and saw that there were no clouds. Instead, the sun had taken on a shadowy cast, and it now gave off a purple-tinted light, painting the world in strange dark hues. A word popped into my mind then, one I'd never heard before but which at the same time seemed so familiar. Umbriel.

  The breeze returned then, even colder than before, and this time it didn't pass but continued blowing.

  Devona dropped the drink carrier and her shake and put her arms around me. I slipped my own arms around her shoulders, noticing that the lid had sprung off her shake cup when it hit the ground. Thick red liquid that looked nothing like strawberry was soaking into the grass.

  "Matt, I'm scared. What's happening?"

  It's breaking down, I thought, though I wasn't sure what that meant.

  Yes, Devona said. It's our link. Or maybe it's Papa Chatha's necklace. Hell, maybe it's a combination of the two. Whichever the case, something is preventing the illusion from taking full hold of our minds.

  I realized then that Devona wasn't speaking. I'd felt her reply more than heard it, as if she were somehow speaking in my head.

  "Illusion?" I said aloud. I had no idea what she was talking about. And yet… I did.

  She frowned. "I don't know." She'd returned to speaking her words instead of thinking them to me. "It made sense a second ago, but my thoughts keep slipping away. I can't seem to hold on to them for very long."