The Not

by A. R. Braun

  The black pupils grew bigger, then shrank, swelled, unswelled.

  What they were dealing with was beyond comprehension, something mankind should’ve never invoked. And now that Don and Ben had, the world’s demise lurked around the corner.

  “How do you like my new look, Donny Boy? I’ve been disguising myself as Bmola, the bird spirit, but since your bitch opened that medamned book and exposed my name, along with what you just babbled to Ben about me, I might as well come out of the closet. You are fucked at ten p.m. if you don’t give in — you too, Benny Boy — I’ll just flat-out kill you! Ol Don and I have history though, don’t we, paleface?”

  Don and Ben gave each other startled glances. The latter’s eyes looked dead.

  “Ol Donny Boy’s wife is about to turn into a man-hating lesbian, did you know that, Benny Boy? Tell you what though, if you’ll stay with me, I’ll keep her straight and give Fay to you. How about that, the saucy blonde honey back there will be all your — ”

  Don wasted no time in taking off, making the creature rear its head back upward. He brought the speed up to seventy-five miles per hour. “Ben, I’m going to drop you at an orphanage in Santa Fe after we’re done performing the ritual. That is, unless you have family somewhere around here.” He looked over at the teen.

  Ben stared back with wide eyes, and he trembled. “But… Pishuni said — ”

  “FUCK what Pishuni said!” Don watched the road again. “Refuse to worship him and you’ll be all right. I’ve got the supplies to banish him. They’re in the trunk. An Indian named Running Bear gave them to me, along with an instruction book. I figure it’s too early to stop at that flea-bag motel back there.” Don looked at his watch. It read six-thirty. “We can just make it to a hotel in Santa Fe in an hour, maybe an hour and a half. Or I can stop at a roach motel on the way. We’ll want to perform the ritual before ten, when Pishuni will show up with bloodlust on his mind.” Don paused to catch his breath as white line fever made him dizzy. He shook it off. “So, do you have relatives around here?”

  Ben nodded and sobbed. “A grandma in Santa Fe.”

  “Good. And don’t listen to that destructive bastard. You worship him to get my wife, and I’ll kill you.” He looked over at him. Ben had his face in his hands, bawling. “I apologize, but I know how addictive Pishuni can be when he gives you what you want.”

  “I’d never…” Ben sobbed. “Not after what he did, not — ”

  “Cool.” Don brought the speed up to eighty miles per hour, beginning to feel strong. Maybe he was losing his mind — just a little — and perhaps that’s what he needed to become victorious over the deity.

  “Dream on, paleface. Bow to me or die.”

  In the rear-view, Fay sit up. Her red face scrunched-up as she scowled, her bloodshot eyes a mess.

  “He killed my family,” she said through gritted teeth. “Let’s perform the ritual and banish the fucker.”

  Don grinned. “That’s my girl.”

  “See you at ten, or maybe before if you try that stupid ritual.” The roof bounced, bonking Don on the head as Pishuni took off.

  He pushed the car. Anywhere was somewhere, unlike Rio Rancho and Albuquerque.

  ***

  Leaving his smartphone with Ben, Don stopped at a clothing store to buy new duds for he and Fay. Afterward, Ben told them he’d gotten a message that his grandmother was vacationing in Florida for a couple weeks. He’d forgotten his late mother had said something to that effect. So they had to hole up in a hotel room close by till Ben’s grannie got back.

  The whole way, the news had bristled with Albuquerque’s destruction and then played a speech by President Obama, saying our armed forces were winning the war against ISIS and that the commander in chief wouldn’t cease until the United States had vanquished the enemy. Still, he had no proof ISIS had been behind the destruction, but after two American cities had been demolished, he continued with his assumption, looking for somebody to blame. After all, they were usually the problem.

  Don decided everyone needed a bit of cheering up, though he doubted it would do any good. “Looks like we know the way to Santa Fe.”

  “The song is ‘Do You Know the Way to San Jose,’ you dork,” she answered.

  “Oh,” Don said. “Fay, you haven’t said a word to our guest. This is Pishuni’s newest — ”

  “I know who it is,” she said. “Just get us to a hotel, will you? And stop trying to cheer us up. This isn’t the time.”

  “I apologize about what happened to your families.”

  “Let’s just do the ritual and get rid of the piece of shit, okay?”

  Don nodded and took off. “I’m taking you back to Illinois, Fay, to meet my family — which is now yours — if that’s any consolation.”

  She ignored him and glanced out the window.

  At seven-thirty, Don sighed as they reached Santa Fe. We’re bringing destruction here too if we don’t get rid of Pishuni. He turned off the air-conditioning. The sun hung low on the horizon, ready to set soon. The car was getting a bit too arctic. Don rolled down the window and let some hot air in.

  He drove past many stone buildings, including the Loretto Chapel, and the Institute of American Indian Arts museum. He barely noticed them thanks to the recent events and Fay’s rebuke. Don frowned at the dying sunlight, which cast ghost-like shadows from the sandstone walls onto the city streets. The air, turning colder as the evening dragged on, made him shiver, just a little. On the streets, the denizens talked to each other with the American spirit of universal comradery. In Don’s car, the funeral procession-like ambiance dragged on.

  Don came to a stoplight and whipped out his smartphone, checking his GPS. He turned onto Old Santa Fe Trail, seeing but not paying attention to the park that looked like a graveyard under the swaying branches of the shade trees. Before long, he came upon Le Fonda on the Plaza, but Yahoo! Travel said the cheapest hotel was the Old Santa Fe Inn. Don’s money would run out eventually, so he decided on the latter. He turned left onto Ortiz Street and followed it to the affordable inn. Don pulled into the hotel’s parking lot, and before long, he and Fay had gathered the supplies to banish Pishuni and were headed toward their temporary home that resembled the Alamo, along with the teen.

  Ben said nothing, walking on the other side of Don. A blank look engulfed his face. They strolled into the lobby, and Don reached for his wallet as he approached the front desk. Still in the dry heat zone, the central air made him uncomfortable. He actually sneezed. No one blessed him.

  The beauty of the hotel’s interior boasted an American Indian feel, complete with huge wooden rafters on the ceiling and ancient pottery. They approached a clerk who had to be a Native-American lady; she greeted them with a smile. An antique clock ticked away history on the wall to her right. Don hoped that with enough ticks, he and his wife could put this mess behind them.

  “Hello,” the clerk said with no accent. Her nametag read JUANITA. She wiped away a tear.

  She must have heard the news about Albuquerque.

  “Welcome to the Old Santa Fe Inn,” Juanita added. “I see you bought some souvenirs.”

  Fay sighed and glanced away.

  It took a few seconds for Don to realize she was talking about the banishment supplies. He nodded.

  Ben leaned against the counter and looked at his hands.

  “Will it just be you, your wife and your son?” Juanita continued.

  Don almost argued the point, then decided against it. “Yes. We’ll need a two bedroom.” He stared at the rest of the lobby. They were the only ones here, it seemed. The devastation had probably sent the other guests on the run back home after New Mexico had lost two cities.

  Juanita sniffled. “We have a complimentary breakfast-burrito bar with local salsas for you to enjoy in the morning, along with the many sights.”

  “I’m sorry about the disaster in Albuquerque.”

  Juanita’s case of the sniffles became worse as she wiped more tears from her eyes and
nodded.

  Fay slapped her hands on the counter. “Just get the room.”

  Juanita looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. Don handed Juanita the money, and they walked to the elevator. Upon arrival, Don swiped the key card, then opened the door. He would’ve flipped over the elegance if the circumstances were different. A fireplace that looked like an igloo burned embers in the wall. Curved gray chairs took up the space in front of the fireplace, wrapped tight and modern, the old and new motif fighting for control.

  Ben sat in one of the chairs and stared at the fireplace.

  Don mourned that they were too grief-stricken to enjoy this. He followed Fay into the bedroom, where a fat bed with red and maroon sheets, along with two huge black pillows, stood across the room with a similar fireplace to the one in the living room.

  Fay set the supplies next to the bed and sat on it, looking at the floor. She glanced at him. Her face had retained its original color. Time for the anger stage of grief. “Are we gonna do this, or what?”

  Don gazed at his watch. “Hell yes. We need to involve Ben, since Pishuni suckered him into servitude. Come on, let’s go get him.”

  Fay sighed. She stood and smoothed out her dress. “All right.”

  Don took her hand and led her into the living room.

  Ben was gone.

  CHAPTER 24

  Don fought not to think the worst. Still, he trembled, sweat beading on his brow. He hoped it wasn’t what it looked like.

  “Ben,” he and Fay cried out. They kept calling his name as they headed into the other bedroom. The sheets had been stripped from the bed, the pillows on either side. Like a shroud, the comforter lay in a heap on the floor.

  “Oh, no,” Don said. He glanced at Fay, who frowned at the bed. “I’m gonna check the bathroom,” he added.

  Fay looked at him with a furrowed brow and wide eyes. “No, don’t.”

  “Stay here.” He trudged toward the restroom, where an echoing thud sounded out over and over.

  This is not good.

  Don opened the door.

  Ben had tied the bedsheets together to make a hangman’s noose he’d hung over one of the wooden rafters in the ceiling. Don shut the door behind himself as panic flooded his mind. He’d have to report this. With a purple face and a bruised neck, Ben swung from the makeshift rope, his dead wide eyes staring at Don as if to accuse him. The thuds he’d heard had been the teen’s feet banging into the tub every time he’d swung backward, the voodoo drums of death.

  Don stumbled, falling into the door. The room swayed. He fought to stay on his feet.

  Oh, my God. It’s my fault. I told him I’d kill him if he prayed to Pishuni to get Fay. Letting him have her would’ve been better than this.

  But did he really believe that?

  Don took a moment to catch his breath, then threw up in the sink, loamy chunks of his lunch staring back at him. He could even make out the lettuce greens. He spewed over and over until he dry heaved, and his stomach turned like the rinse cycle in a washing machine.

  Fay banged on the door. “What’s going on in there?”

  Don wiped his mouth and held the door shut. “Don’t come in here!”

  “Oh, God, don’t tell me he’s dead.”

  Don grabbed a plastic cup from the sink and poured a glass of water to wash his mouth out, getting rid of the rancid taste. He looked in the mirror. His face was so colorless it resembled a ghost’s. Frowning at the horror in his wide eyes, he might as well have been a weak child who’d wandered into a neighborhood riddled with crime.

  He hurried out of the bathroom. Don leaned on the door as he shut it behind him, and it closed with a snick.

  Fay’s eyes were sad as she stared him down. She wept and sat on the bed. “He was just a boy,” she sobbed in a broken voice. “How many people can die in one day-ay?”

  Hot tears poured out of Don’s eyes as he sobbed. “It was my fault. I said I’d kill him.” He covered his face with his hands.

  Fay rose and embraced him. He leaned into her soft and warm frame.

  “It’s not your fault,” she whispered. “It’s on Pishuni.” Fay stroked his hair.

  He remembered the deity peeking down from the roof of the car and promising to kill Ben, then he realized Fay was right. They stayed like that for a long space, wracked with grief. Fay wiped her tears with her hand and pulled away.

  Don took a deep breath. “Let’s banish that bitch-god now.”

  ***

  Fay stared at him, chewing her nails while Don readied the ritual tools Running Bear had given him. He had them spread out on the bed, his only weapons in this surreal battle.

  “We’ve got to report the suicide,” she said. “We can’t just leave him in there to rot.”

  Don didn’t look up. “We’ll report it afterward. I can’t put this off any longer. Get the book and start reading up on what we should do.”

  Fay sighed. “Can’t you? Why do I always have to read everything?”

  “Fine. Give it to me.”

  “Are you forgetting what happened last time?”

  He shrugged. “It was just a hallucination meant to stop us. This time, we’ve got to be strong and ignore it. Hand me the book.”

  She sighed and snatched it up. “No, I’ll do it.”

  The book caught fire in her hands. Fay squealed and dropped the tome, then stomped on the ashes, doing a lunatic dance. The mugwort, the sacred pipe and the desert white cedar also blazed. The brazier exploded, sending deadly chips machine-gun firing all over the room. They stuck in the walls, but miraculously didn’t strike them. Don swiped everything off the bed and jumped up and down on the pile until the fire went out. He patted the bed down. Don wrinkled his nose at the sharp, penetrating scent of smoke.

  Great, the bedsheets and carpet are ruined.

  “I waited too long,” Don said. “Running Bear told me to banish him immediately. Pishuni’s gotten stronger.”

  Fay paced. “Oh no. What are we gonna do now?’

  Don walked over to her, gingerly taking her arms. “Calm down. We have to refuse to pray to him. Remember, we’ve got freewill.” He let her go and looked at the floor, then raised his eyes. “Of course when I do that, he attacks.”

  Fay put her hand over her mouth. Her eyes panicked, and she removed her hand. “Will he… kill us? I mean, unless you pray to him?”

  “I don’t think so. I have to invoke him for Pishuni to do anything. But he’ll use another person in Santa Fe and destroy the city. And this time…” He took a deep breath. “… we might die with them.”

  Fay sat in one of the grey chairs and kicked her leg. “Oh, God!”

  He went to her and knelt, holding her leg still. “Listen, after what he did to Albuquerque and Ben, we have to risk everything to get rid of him. We need to do it now. I can scout around like before, see if anyone’s life is better than it should be, because Pishuni will throw it in my face. If the person doesn’t listen, we’ll leave town immediately.”

  Fay blanched. “That’s all we can do, stay on the run from him until he destroys the world?”

  “We’ll figure something out. Where there’s a will and all that.”

  Fay let out a trembling breath that broke Don’s heart; she’d had about as much as she could take.

  Don had had enough also. He rose and wheeled on the deity, who could be anywhere, or everywhere. “Hey, Pishuni! Show yourself, you son of a bitch!”

  No one showed.

  “I’m not gonna worship you anymore,” Don continued. “That’s my decision. I don’t care if you’ve given me till ten. I’m saying it right now, asshole! We’re done, finito, auf Wiedersehen, through! You killed Fay’s family, you took my job and now you’ve killed Ben. GET OUT OF MY LIFE, YOU SACK OF SHIT.”

  The room was quiet, the calm before a storm? Don craned his neck and looked at Fay. Her doe eyes followed the length of the bedroom.

  Don crossed his arms and harrumphed. “So, that’s it? No smartass comments about
how I’m a weepy pussy or any of that bullshit?” Don moved around the hotel room, checking everywhere — except Ben’s bathroom! — and there were no signs of Pishuni. Don came in and sat on the bed. He looked Fay over. “I guess Running Bear was wrong. All I have to do is refuse it.”

  Fay refused to meet his eyes and said nothing.

  “So, was Pishuni right?” Don asked. “Do you not love me anymore?”

  A seemingly-endless pause followed.

  “Darlin?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. We need to report the suicide, and my family’s dead. I can’t think about love and marriage. And I really resent the thought of that busted-ass god playing with my desires.”

  Don nodded. “Let’s go report what happened and get something to eat, or I’ll get something to eat. You might need a few drinks.”

  “A few hundred.”

  “They’re gonna wonder why we were traveling with a high-school boy when he’s not our son. I’ll just tell ‘em the truth, that we were the only three survivors of Albuquerque. Then they’ll wanna know why we burned our belongings. I don’t have an answer for that yet. We’re gonna have to talk to the police, tell ‘em Ben went into the bathroom, and we found him like that.”

  Fay glanced at him. “Are we gonna get arrested?”

  “Not if I agree to pay for the damages.” He stood, holding out his hand to her. “Let’s go.”

  She rose, taking his hand, her delicate fingers winding around his, lifting his spirits. They walked to the front door, opened it and Pishuni blocked his way. The shining prisms of his wings almost blinded Don, who shielded his eyes.

  Fay frowned at her husband. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Don backed up into the room. “It’s him.”

  “Who? I don’t see anyone.”

  Pishuni had to crouch to enter through the doorway. He slammed the door, making Fay jump and pinning Don with his glowing red eyes filed with spikes. His head, ablaze with flames, sent eerie, eldritch shadows into the formerly cozy space.

  Fay blanched. “Who just slammed the door?”