My Black Beast

by Randall P. Fitzgerald

There was a short list of reasons a little girl would be dressed in weird demon skin cloaks and eat pancakes with her hands and very few of them suggested a positive home life. Lowell leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling at a loss for what to do about… this. The whole thing.

  From what he could hear, the girl was still happily tearing away at the pancakes, so he stood and made for the door. Along the way he caught a waft of his stink and nearly coughed. It was that wet dog stink. He stopped and smelled the air. The whole room sort of had it lingering. Weird he hadn’t noticed it before. Another sigh.

  Lowell walked across the hall to the bathroom. He’d need a shower. Pulling the door shut behind, he stopped in front of the mirror. He could hear his mom’s voice in the back of his head. The word “hobo” kept swinging around. He groaned and bent down to open the cabinet door that led under the sink. There was a corded, heavy duty trimmer sitting in a tangle around the untouched cleaning supplies. He pulled it free, plugged it in, and took a deep breath.

  The trimming wasn’t so bad. He cleaned it up with an electric razor he’d forgotten he even owned. That was less fun by a good stretch. The cheap, half-charged razor pulled as many hairs as it trimmed by Lowell’s estimation. Whatever, it was done now and he took a look at himself in the mirror.

  “Look like a fucking six year old. Shaving should be illegal.”

  The choppy, uneven haircut he gave himself in a rush after the shave didn’t look much better than his newly smooth face, but it was passable enough. Short and chunky and much cleaner than his disheveled hair had been a half hour before. He didn’t stare at it long after the deed was done, just moved to the shower and scrubbed himself down. He had rinsed off the night before but it didn’t do much for the smell apparently. He’d like to have the girl take a shower… wait… no… not… not like that. But she should. For hygiene. Not for pervert reasons.

  He thumped his head against the wall of the shower a few times. He was going to spend forever in prison probably. That was basically a given now.

  The shower was turned off and Lowell dried himself off and put his pajama pants back on. The girl was still guarding his clothes and it felt weird to put himself in the same room as she was without a good reason. He couldn’t help feeling like he’d adopted some weird family member. And now he looked like a tool on top of it. Maybe he looked dumb enough that she’d laugh the next time he brought food.

  Lunch was a few hours away. Lowell found the best smelling shirt he could in the living room and put it on. It was pretty clean and he was prouder of that than was reasonable for a man who fancied himself a rescuer of some sort. That level of responsibility was more suited to people with… cars. And… and ironing boards.

  He had one. Probably. Maybe. From before his mom accepted that he’d basically given up on things. She’d bought it in one of those flurries of matriarchal desperation, the sort where pushing one to get one’s life together becomes a whole wake-up experience.

  He flopped to the couch and his brain shifted back from ironing boards to the girl again. Imagining where she might’ve come from was an exercise that felt more like slipping towards insanity than making real progress. She hadn’t spoken, he realized. Did she understand English? Did she understand any language? Maybe she was one of those… like Mowgli in The Jungle Book. Those kids that are raised by animals. That would explain her freaky strength.

  It was about a half hour after he’d left the shower that he heard the door open and soft, quick footsteps run across the hall. If he’d had the TV on, he wouldn’t have heard any of it, but mostly he’d just been staring at the ceiling. The run was brief and ended with the quiet but quick closing of the bathroom door. Lowell thought better of going to try to talk to her. He heard the sink come on and let go a relieved sigh.

  Maybe she was washing her hands after working up a nice syrup lather. Or doing who knows what. He turned on the TV so she’d have some level of privacy and maybe even feel safe moving back across to the bedroom.

  Another half hour passed before the girl moved back to the bedroom. Lowell imagined she must’ve peeked out a dozen times. The hours passed uneventfully after that and when early afternoon hit, the need for some lunch presented itself.

  Lowell did maybe three or four cycles of the kitchen before he decided that there was nothing to cook. There was a Chinese place that was always solid and he figured the food would be sort of non-offensive enough that he couldn’t really go wrong. She knew how to work a sink if not a flushing toilet.

  The call was always sped along by the fact that he’d been ordering from them for ages. The first few times were a bit of work from that combination of a language barrier and the impressive quality of cellphone communications. His order was pretty standard, though, and adding things on went smoothly. There was the standard Yuxiang chicken, which he took extra spicy, and he added a fried rice with shrimp and a few other things, in case she was allergic. She had murdered some kind of demon lizard and eaten the burrito without complaint so he figured meat was probably a safe bet.

  Within a half hour, the food arrived and there was an awkward, overly smiley exchange of signatures and food. He always tipped the Chinese delivery guy well and it had tended to pay off with quick delivery and hot food.

  The bag was pretty hefty. It always seemed as though the delivery guy was in a competition with himself to fill a single plastic bag with as much food as he could manage. Still, the sauce was never spilled when it got to the door, so whatever he was doing it was working.

  Lowell knocked on the door and heard the usual shuffling. When he opened it, the girl was not under the covers as she had been that morning but sitting on the bed with cautious eyes. They narrowed as he stepped into the room with the bag. He was a few steps from the bed when she started to move with him noticing.

  “Look, I don’t know if you eat… well, I know you eat. But I got some Chinese food. I figured that’s probably fine, yeah?”

  His eyes were on the bag in his hands which he was holding open when a rough but small hand came across his cheek. He looked up, bewildered. The girl was at the edge of the bed and she’d reached out to touch his face. What do you even do in a situation like this? Keep calm. First. This was… probably good.

  She looked him over without ever meeting his eyes. His chin first, where the beard had been. She touched it and squeezed and moved to his hair looking over his head as though he were some sort of new creature that needed close inspection. When she’d finished touching his head as she liked her eyes darted around his face, almost confused. Then the smell caught her.

  The girl glanced down at the bag and pulled the first styrofoam container off the top. She retreated on to the bed and sat down in the center, inspecting the small box.

  Lowell moved to his chair as she looked it over. There were forks in the bag so he wouldn’t have to watch her shovel food into her mouth this time.

  She worked out how the container opened and looked at the shrimp fried rice with skepticism. The smell had clearly enticed her but the rest seemed as though she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

  “Here.”

  Lowell offered over a plastic fork. She recognized the shape and grabbed it from him without hesitation. When it was in her hand, she became more curious. She bent the fork a few times and shrugged to herself, satisfied that it would work well enough.

  The fork buried deep in the rice and came back heaping. The small girl had no trouble shoving the massive bite into her mouth. Her eyes opened wide and for a moment Lowell was convinced her throat had swollen shut immediately. It hadn’t and she chewed vigorously, swallowing and gasping in a large breath. She focused her attention on the dish.

  Lowell stood and made for the door. “Okay, don’t choke while I go get some water. And we’re going to have to talk about taking you home. Or whatever home-like thing you’ve got. If it’s a box or something, you can stay here.”

  When he was outside he muttered to himself. “Sure, I’ll just adopt
you and it’ll be the most normal thing in the world. A mute, dreadlocked, tattooed twelve-year-old girl that I found in a pile of rubble. Probably standard paperwork for that.”

  He filled a pair of glasses with water and a couple of cubes of ice and returned to the room. When he got back he found all the boxes from the bag were on the bed and opened along with the little rice towers. The glasses went on the bedside table and Lowell returned to his appointed chair.

  For a few minutes she smelled at everything, maybe testing for poison. Finally she decided on his Yuxiang chicken.

  “That one’s pretty spicy, so, you know—”

  Before the warning, whatever good it would have been, had managed to make it out of his mouth in full, the food was in and out came the smallest little yelp.

  “Hap!”

  A surprised little chirp. A bit raspy, but youthful and high. Lowell couldn’t help but laugh at it. The tiny sound was entirely out of step with her demeanor and the surprise on her face was too much.

  The laughing died almost instantly though as he looked at the girl again. Her face was flushed with terror and her hand was clapped hard over her mouth. He could see the fingers digging hard into the skin. She stared at the food until Lowell shifted to grab the water. Her eyes shot to him in horror and she flailed back to the corner, kicking the food away and sending it flying.

  He stood and put his hands up.

  “Whoa whoa! It’s okay. No, it’s okay! Is… I’m sorry. It was really spicy, I didn’t know.”

  She slapped another hand over her mouth and winced, a tear rolling down her cheek and he realized it. It wasn’t the food. She’d made a sound.

  Lowell’s mouth fell open and he sat down in the middle of the floor staring at nothing. This was beyond him. He couldn’t… He had brought her here, but this was not something he could deal with. His eyes looked up to see her again. She was pressed tight in the corner, eyes drilled shut and the grip on her mouth still like iron.

  He shook his head. No, no, no. This wasn’t alright. He stood.

  “Look, look. Uh, god… fuck. Okay. I don’t know about your whole thing, but it’s… you can talk here. You can make sounds. It’s okay.”

  Fuck, he wanted to stomp and shout and just… beat the living shit out of whoever or whatever. He forced himself to calm down and start again, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at the wall ahead of him.

  “I don’t know if you can really understand. It’s safe here. For you. Nothing is going to hurt you. I won’t let it. I mean, I’ll do what I can. I’ll protect you.”

  He turned to see she’d opened her eyes. The hands were still across her mouth, but not quite as tightly as they had been. It was the softest expression he’d seen from her since the second she’d woken up.

  Lowell stood from the bed and began to clean up the food from the floor around. By the time he had finished and returned with a rag from the kitchen, she’d put her hands flat on the bed. There was the low drone of the TV in the living room while he cleaned up the floor. When he was done he stood up and looked at the girl.

  “I’ll order some more food. Maybe pizza this time.” He forced a laugh. “Nothing spicy, I promise.”

  He let out a bit of a sigh and tried his best to keep things together.

  “It, uh…” He looked at the food. “Don’t worry about the food. Or… making noise. It’s really fine. It might be hard to believe that, I guess. Just… you can go back whenever you want. If I’ve got to go to jail, heh… yeah, I guess that’s fine.”

  He picked up the bag with the ruined Chinese lunch and looked at the girl on the bed. She was still concerned and skeptical, it showed.

  “I’m Lowell.” He pointed to himself with the hand that was still holding the dirty rag. “I never said. If you need anything, just call me. Or come get me. Or… I’ll check on you sometimes.”

  He turned to leave and as his hand reached for the door, he heard the high raspy voice strain into the room.

  “Marka.”

  Lowell did everything he could to keep from whipping around and somehow managed a slow turn. The girl looked away and pointed, slowly, to herself as he had done. He smiled.

  “Marka,” he repeated and nodded.

  He turned and left, closing the door behind him. As soon as it was shut, he let the bag fall to the ground and ambled over to the far hallway wall. He slid down against it, gripping the locket he always wore. He couldn’t sit there long, he knew. He needed to order pizza.

  Chapter 4

  He’d never sat on his couch for such an extended period of time before and it was slowly starting to dawn on Lowell that it might be a piece of shit. In truth there was no good reason for him to be sitting on the couch now. Normally he’d sort of sprawl out on the floor and tuck one of the disused pillows that were meant to be on the couch up behind him. Somehow, it didn’t seem like it’d set a good example or something so he stayed on the couch.

  It’s sort of a sad thing when the floor is preferable to the couch, but it’s not as though furniture shopping was high on the list of priorities before he took in some abused magical demon slaying child. Couches were expensive anyway.

  The pizza had gone down fine. He decided to forgo the pepperoni since it might be a bit much and he didn’t feel like waiting another thirty minutes to try eating again. Later, he figured out that he could have just given her a single slice on a plate, but still he’d hate for her to be upset like she was if the pepperoni was too spicy. And he brought water along with the pizza this time.

  The sun was down and sitting on the couch had turned into a game of fidget around the springs. It was exhausting. The whole day had been exhausting. Dinner would probably be more pizza. Maybe some spaghetti or ravioli or something on the side. No point in risking things. The TV had helped wile away the hours. She didn’t ever call for him and so Lowell kept his distance.

  When the sun was gone and the clock was pressing eight, he stood up to grab the cordless phone and summon the pizza guy. The call was short and the phone returned to its place in the base station. It was an act that half defeated the purpose of a cordless phone, but he never used it really anyway. Cell phones are basically all that separate us from the animals anymore.

  Lowell mumbled to himself and poked at the answering machine buttons on the base station of the cordless phone. He turned around when he was satisfied with whatever it was he was doing and saw Marka standing in the hall in her cloak.

  “SHIT! Jesus!”

  He yelped and bent over at the waist to steady himself.

  “You… yeah. You are quiet. Why are you in your cloak? Dinner’s… uh…”

  She pointed at the door to the apartment.

  “You want to go?”

  She nodded, a serious expression on her face.

  “Yeah, no. Totally. Let me get my coat and pants.”

  He went into the bedroom and quickly changed into a pair of jeans and grabbed his coat. It wasn’t more than thirty seconds, he figured, but when he came back into the living room, the door to the apartment was open.

  Lowell bolted into the hall, fearing the worst, but found Marka surveying the doors of the hallway trying to figure which would let her out. He calmed down when he saw her and put his coat on. Marka looked at him and then went back to work on the doors. Lowell took himself to the door she’d been looking for and held it open.

  “This one.”

  She walked through it ahead of him and they went down the stairs. It was still early yet and as they descended Lowell couldn’t help but worry that there would be someone in the lobby. People tended to keep to themselves and a quick glance would probably just show them a girl dressed eccentrically. He could pass it off as a nerdy obsession of hers or something. She wasn’t likely to say much to anyone.

  The lobby was empty, like it always was, but it didn’t do a whole lot to calm him down. He started going over a made up narrative in his head. She’s a cousin. From the Midwest. Out to visit somebody. Or something. Where
in the Midwest? Wisconsin? People were from Wisconsin. It’d be fine.

  The glass door swung open to the street. The Seattle clouds still hung around, keeping the world just that extra bit darker. Marka turned to face the direction where Lowell had met her the day before. He walked along beside her. There was a guy in a hoodie moving along the far side of the street, nothing really worth worrying over.

  “Are we going back to that building?” He paused. “Is it safe? I mean, probably would have heard about it if another one of those things showed up. I mean, I’m trying to sort of pretend that this isn’t really happening, in a way. Well, not you. You’re fine. But the monster and the rubble.”

  Without making a sound Marka sped up. Lowell moved to keep pace with her and she took off, running what seemed impossibly fast for a girl her size. It took him a second to understand what was happening, but before she made the curb, he was running as well. If things had looked suspicious before, this was just… yeah… he might as well wear a sign that said “child abductor” on it.

  Marka made the corner well ahead of him and bolted across the street. Lowell crossed behind her and tried his best to keep up but a life of pizza and general sloth doesn’t end up being the best thing for physical fitness. Still, he never would have thought he couldn’t keep pace with a little girl. Here was the truth though. She was leaving him behind almost entirely. He turned to a dead sprint hoping to at least keep sight of her.

  It was clear she was headed for the industrial building where he’d found her. The only thing he could imagine was that she was going underground. It didn’t make a lot of sense to him, but nothing really did in the ridiculous course of the past day or so. He looked down for a second to try to give himself a head of extra speed but when his eyes came back up, she was gone. He slowed up a bit and told himself he’d just have to head to the industrial site. It was doubtful she’d get by the cops unnoticed, but who knew. She put a brick through a slimy dinosaur, so maybe she was some kind of magic.