by Mark Tufo
As he went in search of rope, Dir decided waiting wasn't an option anymore. What would be the point? Hiding his true self and his powers was beneath him. He couldn't wait another minute to conquer.
First, he needed more sacrifices. That had been the fault of the two women he’d killed before. The souls had been of quality, but not enough. Dir needed more.
He found some electrical cords and a roll of twine in the closet, and went back into the living room, tying the two unconscious men up on the couch. The detective had two weapons on him, both went into Larry's waistband.
At least half a dozen souls would be needed to fulfill his Ascension. "I guess I can start with you sorry bastards." Larry decided to go outside and lure the cops in the area inside and take four of them. Simple enough.
As he approached the door Michael came into view, heading up the steps.
"Hey, buddy," Larry said. "We need to talk."
Michael eyed him warily as he approached, helping someone up the steps.
Larry laughed and held the door as Michael carried Jim Rutan inside.
"What's going on?" Michael asked. Turning to face Larry, he found a pistol in his face.
"I can't believe you brought my friend Jim with you. This is excellent, like kismet. Do you believe in kismet, Jim? Or are you too busy drooling on yourself?"
Michael started to move his arm, maybe try to grab the weapon, when Larry shoved the gun into his forehead and pushed. "Don't be a hero, fat boy. Have a seat on the chair, and put Jim on the other one. Oh, and sorry about the coffee table. I swear, when this is all over, I'll buy you a new one."
"What are you doing?" Michael asked. He looked so confused Larry had to chuckle.
"Sit down so I can tie you up without shooting you in the face." Michael complied, anger plain on his face, but without fighting. He never fought, always gave in to anything Larry suggested. Always the follower.
Jim was easy to tie up, like a coma patient, staring blankly ahead. If there were any way to save him, Dir would. He wanted to watch as he tried to tell his story, and see doctors snicker at him, shake their heads, dump medicine down his throat, hook him up to electrodes, and do test after test. And all the while he'd be telling the truth.
As he looked into Jim's vacant eyes, he realized the kid was lost. His brain had fried, short-circuited, and he was merely a mass of flesh. He'd have to be one of the sacrifices, one of the six.
Larry turned back to Detective Stone just as his head lifted off his chest, his eyes trying to adjust. "Hey, Artie, how are you feeling? Pretty nasty hit you took. But that's not your real problem. Risk of infection? It's always there." Larry walked over and rummaged through Michael's pockets, pulling out his cell phone. "Of course, infection could take hours, days even, before it's fatal. What I have planned for you, Artie, will happen much sooner."
"Why are you doing this?" Michael asked.
"Can't you come up with another question? Really? You keep asking the same basic thing over and over, and I haven't answered you yet. Try to be original, fat boy. It's getting boring."
"Fuck you. You're not Larry."
"See, wasn't that refreshing? Saying something different?" Larry hit the speed dial on Michael's phone.
"Leave them out of this," Michael said.
"Nope. Thanks to you, I've been inspired." Larry put up a finger dramatically. "Susan? Holy shit, you need to get here, and fast. Michael had a heart attack. Hurry. The ambulance is on the way." He hung up the phone. "Now, what were you saying?"
"When I get off this couch I am going to kill you," Detective Stone said.
"Then it's a good thing you aren't getting off the couch, Artie."
Michael glanced out the side window and noticed movement in the field, near the tool shed. "Help! Help!"
Larry laughed and clapped his hands. "Good idea. Let's get them over here as well. Why leave loose ends? The girl's will be here soon enough."
Chapter Thirty
Becky pulled into the driveway and almost crashed into the porch before stopping, dust pluming behind them.
"Where's the fucking ambulance?" Susan asked at the same time Becky thought it. Something was very wrong.
There were four cop cars near the tool shed, and Becky noticed Artie's was one of them. Had the ambulance come and gone already? It had literally been minutes since she got the call, and they happened to be just up the road. None of this made sense.
Susan started up the steps but Becky hesitated. She took three steps toward the field before realizing she didn't see any of the policemen. Where was Artie?
"Mom."
Another four steps and she spotted the foot sticking out from the side of the porch. Was it Artie? No. She studied the three dead officers and silently thanked God Artie wasn't one of them.
"Mom," Susan yelled, her voice cracking.
"Hey, Becky. You look nice today, as usual. Scrumptious, in fact."
Becky glanced up on the porch at Larry, who had Susan by the arm and a gun pressed to her side. He smiled. "Why not get that gorgeous MILF ass up here where I can have a better view?"
"Larry, what's going on?"
"I'm upset you and Artie are dating. I decided to go all crazy on everyone and start shooting. If I can't have you no one can."
"Larry, we can talk about this."
Larry stopped smiling and nodded. "I love you."
Becky started moving slowly around the porch, keeping eye contact with Larry. This was worse than she'd thought, and she didn't understand. She thought he was acting jealous because of her and Artie. This was beyond normal, though. "Why don't you and I deal with this? Let Susan go. She doesn't have anything to do with this."
"I can't. I need to know you love me."
Becky swallowed and put her right foot on the bottom step of the porch. She tried to relax. Anything she did now was important. She made eye contact with Larry as she took another step closer to him. Becky tried to ignore her daughter, so close and in so much danger. She needed to concentrate on the task at hand.
"I asked if you loved me."
Becky nodded and plastered a smile on her lips. "You know I love you, Larry."
"Prove you do."
"How?" Becky tried to casually get closer. She was up to the third step of five. One step closer.
"I need you to kill someone for me to prove your love."
Becky's smile faltered for a split second but she recovered. "Who?"
Larry grinned. "I don't know, you pick. There are enough of them."
"Who?"
Larry swung behind Susan, pushing the pistol into the base of her spine, and began tying her hands with rope. "One false move and you will never walk again. Understand?"
Susan nodded, tears falling from her eyes as she stared at her mother.
Larry patted her on the butt. "Your ass is fantastic, too. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, as they say."
"Please, I beg you, let my daughter go."
"Didn't you already say that?" Larry pushed Susan through the open door. "Have a seat on the floor. If you do something stupid I will shoot you in the face, but not kill you. It will hurt like Hell for a few hours until you finally bleed out. Does that sound like fun?"
Susan, still crying, shook her head.
"I didn't think so." Larry motioned for Becky to come forward, holding the gun with one hand and rope in the other. "I need to tie you up as well, and then we can talk. I'm so confused. Maybe you can help me, Becky, and all these people can be saved."
Becky stepped onto the porch and tried to look past him into the living room; he moved to let her get a better view. When she saw Artie, bleeding and unconscious, along with another man, a teenager and Michael, she almost screamed.
"It's up to you, Becky. I don't want to kill anyone else. Michael is my best friend. I need you to help me."
"I want to help you."
"Turn around slowly and let me tie your hands behind your back."
"Why can't we go for a walk?" Becky ask
ed. Her mind was racing and she wanted to get out of being bound by him.
"We can. But I need to do this to make me feel better. Can't you do this for me? Please?"
Becky watched a tear slide down Larry's cheek. She wanted this to end, and he seemed so fragile right now. Maybe having her hands bound would ease him enough to let them all go. She needed to survive and help a roomful of people now.
"I understand." She turned and let him tie her hands with the rope. "Can we go for a walk now?"
Larry leaned into her, putting the gun to her temple as he squeezed her ass cheeks. "No walks. I'm not interested, nor am I interested in you. Sure, you're hot, but that won't matter soon enough." He drove her into the living room and forced her to the floor next to Susan. "You thought I did all this because you and the loser are dating? Please. I just wanted you to come to me without a fight. Larry doesn't love you."
"Now you're talking in third-person, Larry?"
He laughed. "Oh, sorry. I think by now Michael has figured out who I am." He bowed with a flourish. "Please allow me to introduce myself," he began singing.
Becky was confused but noticed Michael just looked angry. "Michael, what's going on?"
Michael stared at her. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
Larry went to him, waving two guns now. "Explain the situation to her, Mikey. I'm interested to see if you really have figured everything out, like your grand-pappy did."
"Dir of The Earth is this scumbag controlling Larry's body."
"Where's Larry?" Becky asked.
"I'm in here." Larry started waving his arms and almost fell to his knees. "I'm trapped, I need someone to help me, it's dark, I can't see, where is my body? Oh, help me, Becky, help me! Hurry, while he's distracted!"
Becky started to stand when Larry suddenly laughed. He kicked her back to the floor. "Wow, did you believe any of that? Really? Maybe when I'm finished taking over this world and right before destroying it, I'll be in movies. I seem to have a knack for acting, don't you think?"
Chapter Thirty One
Michael needed to think. He'd tried to pull himself free from the ropes around his wrists but it was no use. He thought about standing and charging Larry, but he'd probably be shot before got off the chair. Besides, once he got up, would he be able to hurt his best friend? He understood Larry still existed in there somewhere, and to hurt his physical body would only hurt Larry. The entity would search and find another body.
He closed his eyes and tried to remember what he'd read in the journal, but now the words just jumbled in his head. Shit. When he read it, everything made sense. Now he couldn't think of a word written on those pages and wanted to scream.
"Mikey, are you still with me?" Larry said as he knelt to the side of the chair. "I want you to know Larry really does love you. In fact, the feeling might border on homosexuality, but I'm not here to judge. I've been on this wretched planet long enough to know how humans operate. It's not pleasant, trust me. I wish you could see things from my point of view." He stroked Michael's head, gripping his hair when Michael tried to pull away. "It's also a shame that you and your colleagues will be the sacrifices to start my Ascension and my reign in blood. If I could've done this another way, I would've had you by my side. Perhaps wearing a jester's outfit and dancing jigs while your fat rolls bounced for my amusement. Alas, I guess I'll find another fat-ass to amuse me."
"Fuck you."
"Excellent." Larry stood. "I think it's wonderful the fight you people still have in you. Doesn't mean anything at the end of your day, but, still … commendable."
Larry glanced at the coffee table. "And I promise I will buy you another table."
"This is ridiculous," Michael said.
Susan sat up and stopped crying. "He's like a shitty Batman villain."
Larry pointed a gun at her and frowned. "What?"
Becky laughed. "The campy television show. You're so right. All he's missing is bad makeup and a silly bright costume."
"Are you going to wear a green leotard when you take over the world?" Michael asked him. He winked at Susan. This was worth a shot. They were all going to die anyway. They might as well go out with some dignity, instead of begging for their lives. He understood what was truly happening. To the girls and the other guys, Larry had snapped and gone insane. Michael realized the situation was so much more.
"You need a group of henchmen, too," Susan said. "With numbers on the back of their black sweaters."
Becky laughed. "And you need a better secret hideout than a living room, way too bright and cheerful in here. I'm picturing a dark, underground cavern."
"Shut up," Larry said and turned in a circle, pointing guns at random people to no effect. "I'll shoot you right here and right now."
"No, you won't. You'll be about to, but suddenly Batman and the Boy Wonder will burst through the windows for no real reason—since the front door is wide open—and kick the crap out of you and your lackeys."
"Shouldn't we wait for the lackeys to get here first, before we start?" Becky asked.
"I still think the underground lair would be a better spot to do this. What do you think, Evil Genius?"
Michael noticed Larry was getting aggravated. This wasn't supposed to happen. This alien creature inhabiting his best friend's body was used to people cowering before him, fear in their eyes as they groveled.
How many years, decades, or centuries had Dir been waiting for this moment, and now they were mocking him with a television show he might have false memories about from Larry, but didn't understand the subtle game they played? Michael hoped he didn’t, anyway.
"Enough." He pointed a gun at Rick Cade's head. "I'll go in order of importance here. It's a toss-up between this loser, who no one has any actual ties to, or the burnt out Jim Rutan." Larry pointed a second gun at Jim. "I could also pull the trigger of both at the same time and we can make wagers on which one of them dies first. That might be a fun game, right? One of my fingers might pull with slightly more force than the other, and they'd fire a split-second off."
Jim Rutan stood, his eyes clear but unemotional. "You need to kill all of us at the tool shed."
"What?"
Jim started walking past Larry, paying no mind when Larry tried to physically stop him. At the doorway, Jim turned and smiled. "The only way this will work is by getting as close to your prison as possible, and you know this isn't close enough." Jim turned to Michael. "Do you have shovels?"
Chapter Thirty Two
"Keep working. If you even try to make a stupid move with the shovels or hammers I will put a bullet through Arties' head, and that will be on your conscience. Understand?"
Michael, Becky, Susan, and Rick were ripping the tool shed apart with hammers and a crowbar, the dried wood splintering easily. The tools and various items stored inside had been tossed across the field, and three of the four walls were already on the ground.
Jim Rutan, after leading them here, had collapsed, tucking his legs up underneath himself, and closing his eyes, rocking back and forth about fifteen feet from the entrance to the tool shed.
Larry had reluctantly untied them so they could work, but kept threatening every few minutes to kill Artie, who was in no shape to help. He'd barely made it this far, even with help from Michael and Rick.
"I'm thirsty," Susan said as the last wall fell. "Can we take a break for something to drink?"
Larry laughed. "I don't think so. In a little while none of that will matter." He aimed the pistol at her head. "Pry up the floorboards."
They began pulling up the warped wooden slates, some of which had never been properly nailed. Within minutes, the dry dirt underneath was all that remained.
"Now what?" Becky asked, leaning on her daughter.
Larry tapped his chin with a gun. "Start digging."
Michael picked up the shovel but held it like a weapon in front of him. "Now you expect us to dig our own graves? Fuck you."
Larry snickered. "You don't get it. Once you open th
at hole and find what you're looking for, my power will be at its most intense. There won't be any more need for your grave. You'll wish you had a body at that point."
Michael took a step forward but spied Jim Rutan, vigorously shaking his head, off to the side. Michael locked eyes with Larry.
"I'll count to three," Larry said.
Michael turned and drove the shovel into the loose soil, nodding at the girls and Rick to do the same.
* * * * *
Michael, can you understand me?
Michael stopped digging and stood up.
Don't stop, keep going. It is imperative you find his prison and keep it away from him for the time being. You have the actual power to accomplish the task ahead, so we will be relying on you. Open up your mind to your grandfather's words in the journal, not only the letters but the meaning behind them. They’re like a song, and you need to start repeating key phrases as you dig. You know what they are. This will fall squarely on you as a Zaun.
Michael moved a step to his left and started digging at a new spot, angling so he could now see Jim Rutan, who still had his eyes closed but was mumbling to himself.
Becky and then Susan looked at Michael and nodded. He figured Jim had touched them as well, giving them their parts. A glance at Rick and he realized he was in as well.
The hole was three feet deep when Michael's shovel hit something hard.
"Stop! Pull the object out and give it to me," Larry said.
Michael reached down, but all he lifted was a small, black rock the size of a robin's egg. "This?"
Larry grinned. "Yes. Finally. I should have done this the last time. Hand my prison to me."
As Michael palmed the rock he experienced sudden heat against his fingers, but the sensation was comforting and pleasant.
Words came to his lips, a chant of seemingly random words, although he knew they were the proper ones.
"Enough with that. Hand it to me," Larry said and took two steps forward.
