The Not

by A. R. Braun

  Charles fell prostrate, probably garnering strange stares from those who drove by who couldn’t see Pishuni. “But… I ran them off the road… and I’m a murderer. Why would the cops help me? Plus, you destroyed the city.”

  The Not growled like 10,000 lions, making Charles bury his face in the gravel. The cool night air caused a chill to slice through the latter’s bones. He shivered.

  “Pitiful paleface. Invoke me for the sports car and drive to Colorado Springs, then report your truck stolen. Did I not promise to protect you from prosecution? Tell them you accidentally rear-ended them because they already were driving drunk. When you got out, they attacked you and stole your car. By the way, they have your machete.”

  Pishuni sucked in the cool night air and blew a hot blast toward Charles, who cringed as his eyebrows burnt off.

  “You will claim they held the weapon to your throat, stole your car and fled. I will strike down any prosecutor or policeman that dares look upon you as the criminal. Invoke me now, worm, lest you die!”

  “And where shall I say I got the car?”

  “Inside the glove compartment will be the purchase papers, and the license plates will be installed. Everything will be perfect. Now invoke.”

  Charles rose to a kneeling position, clasping his hands together. “Yes, The Not, bring me a bright red Ferrari, and I’ll go to Colorado Springs and report the crime, my master.”

  The Not disappeared and then reappeared behind the wheel of a red Ferrari, pulling up behind him. The dynamic engine rumbled. He shut it off, hopped out and tossed Charles the keys. The red chassis gleamed in the street lights. The deity also handed him a new pair of glasses.

  The god crossed his arms. “Drive fast.

  “For your reward, I will give you all the beautiful women you can handle in Denver. I want you to drive there right after you report the crime in Colorado Springs. You’ll be the stud you’ve always dreamed of being. I’ll change you into a hunk, with a full head of hair and ripped abs. You won’t need those glasses anymore, either. And I’ll give you better eyebrows than those bushy caterpillars you have.

  “You shall never be shriveled.”

  Charles rose. “I knew you wouldn’t fail me, my master of disaster.”

  “Now go.”

  With an ear-to-ear grin, Charles ran toward the car.

  CHAPTER 35

  Don checked the GPS on his cell phone, then turned to Rick. “We should reach Castle Rock by morning,” he said softly, not wanting to wake Fay. “Let’s hole up there.”

  Rick barely swerved in time to avoid a frantic motorcyclist on a crotch rocket, weaving through traffic. “Idiot! Dang college-boy bikes!” He turned Don’s way for a few seconds before watching the road again. “No offense, college man.”

  “None taken. Don’t talk so loud though. Fay’s sleeping.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Rick sighed. “Internet hacking is a serious crime. We might get a prison sentence. Besides, how do you know a hacker will help you?”

  “The universal language: money.”

  Rick regarded Don intently. “I think we should at least try to contact the media first.”

  “How can we know that the media pundits will believe us? Besides, it’s worth going to prison for — if it comes to that.”

  Rick nodded.

  “I’ve got a vendetta against Pishuni,” Don added. “If that’s what it takes — ”

  Fay rose from Don’s shoulder. She rubbed her eyes and then blinked. “Where… are we going?”

  His shoulder aching from holding still too long, Don sighed in relief at no longer having to support her heavy head. “Morning, hon. We’re headed to Castle Rock.”

  Woodland Park was off to the left, the sun just starting to rise. Uncle Jim and Georgia snored in the backseat.

  Fay asked, “What were you two talking about?”

  “Honey, we’ve found a way to beat Pishuni,” Don answered. “It’s dangerous though. I’m going to hire a hacker.”

  Fay looked at him like he was a chupacabra. “That’s illegal.”

  “Some things are worth breaking the law for.”

  “Just give me the money,” Rick told Don, “and I’ll set it up on my own. It’s time for us to split ways, family man. I can’t have the government connecting me to you and the others.”

  Don was taken aback, but it made sense. “Are you sure? You’d be alone.”

  Rick gave a wry smile. “I’ll be alone in jail too. Might as well get used to it now.”

  “Man, kid, that’s dedication.” Don looked at his cell phone. He tweaked the touchscreen. “Yahoo! Travel says the Mile High City isn’t too far from Castle Rock. We’ll stop there and let everyone get some rest, but not before you and I go to work.”

  Rick nodded. “The Lord’s telling me we need to get rid of the truck. Tell you what, when we reach Castle Rock, pay a tow truck to go just outside Pueblo to get your car. I’m the one who stole the truck. I’ll look in the yellow pages to find a salvage yard, then I’ll drive it there and have it crushed.”

  “Good idea,” Don answered, “but first we’ve got to get there without bringing the law down on our heads. Go the speed limit, will you?”

  “Oh, sorry. I was paying too close attention to our conversation.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Rick flashed Don a three-second stare. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. This is my destiny, to help the Lord save mankind. It’ll be an honor to be a martyr.”

  “Too bad you don’t hug, because I’d sure like to give you one right now.”

  Rick laughed. Soon, Don joined in on the revelry.

  ***

  With an ear-to-ear grin, Charles walked out of the police station in Colorado Springs. He’d reported the truck stolen as The Not ordered. For his obedience, he would be the stud of all studs.

  He hopped a bus to the nearest, cheapest motel and went inside to get a good day’s sleep before heading to Denver. Charles walked into the bathroom to wash his face and spied The Not behind his back in the mirror, his burning head illuminating the small space ten times brighter than the bulbs did. Charles briefly saw his own brightened face flash in the mirror, then it was replaced by the deity’s visage. The god grinned. His black eyes with spikes protruding from them burned a hole in his psyche.

  “When the police find your truck,” The Not’s voice of eons boomed in his head, “I’ll change your appearance back so you can retrieve it. But, for hearkening to my command, behold the transformation!”

  Charles stared wide-eyed at the scaly skin and three nipples as the deity faded away like the end of a hologram. When he saw his new self in the mirror, Charles almost fainted. He gaped, then gasped, then cried out. A full head of long brown hair to the collar adorned him, and his wrinkles were gone, replaced with perfect, twenty-something skin. The shirt he wore no longer sagged outward at the bottom. He lifted it up and gawked at his six-pack abs.

  He even had a tan!

  “No time for sleep,” The Not went on. “Under the front seat of the car you’ll find a .357 Magnum. I want you to shoot every one of them if they manage to dodge the cops. I’ll tell you where they are. Now get to Denver, lest you die!”

  Charles performed cartwheels into the main room and then jumped up and down on the bed. Filled with lust, it was time to switch gears.

  Forget the dumpy wife. I’ll get as much ass as a toilet seat!

  With a shit-eating grin, Charles headed out the door.

  ***

  Pishuni chuckled while perched on top of a roof. The wind picked up.

  Charles better have fun while he can.

  The deity snickered.

  Everything comes with a price, mortal.

  Pishuni cackled, and a thunderstorm with rain showers erupted on Colorado Springs right after Charles fired up the Ferrari. The deity wished he could strike Don and company dead with a lightning bolt, but that God of theirs would probably protect them like He’d been doing la
tely. Thinking better of the change in the weather, the deity blew a few clouds apart, sucked at the sun and blew upon Colorado Springs. The rain stopped, replaced by the perfect visibility of a warm, late-summer day.

  The paleface had found the weapon under the seat.

  You’re dead, you Bible thumping simpletons.

  ***

  Don checked the Internet on his cell phone as Rick took the ramp from 25 and into Castle Rock. Don looked up some numbers. He called a tow-truck service and promised them a big tip for picking up his car outside of the crater that had been Pueblo. Next, he booked a room at a cheap hotel in the city.

  “You know what?” Don said to Rick, “I think you’re right about the media. I’m going to contact Mary Faith, the one who has that show on that news network, demanding justice for terrible crimes when a child or a woman’s missing. People may not listen to a hacker. Fay and I will go on TV and reveal Pishuni’s plan, just to stack the deck. The way word gets around in the media, everyone will know.”

  Rick smiled at him, then watched the road again. “Good idea, man. Wish I’d thought of it. Oh, wait, I did.”

  Don and Rick laughed.

  A police siren blared behind them. Don looked in the rearview mirror, and a patrol car was on their asses. His heart stooped.

  “Shit,” Don cried. He slapped the dash. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

  “Nice language,” Rick said.

  “Oh no.” Fay put her face in her hands. “Can things get any worse?”

  Don turned to Rick. “Outrun them.”

  Rick shook his head. “They’ll just send backup. You’re forgetting what happened in Pueblo. The Lord will break us out.” He pulled over to the side of the road and killed the engine.

  Probably the victim of a rude awakening, Uncle Jim and Georgia groaned in the backseat.

  “What’s going on?” Uncle Jim asked with grogginess in his voice.

  “Where are we?” Georgia asked in a mumble.

  “Castle Rock,” Don answered, “and we’re about to get busted.”

  A young male officer with very short hair stepped up to their window. He had his baton out. “Everyone out of the car! Now!”

  Pishuni, you bastard.

  Don stepped out. Everyone else followed suit. Another squad car rolled up. Don’s group was read their Miranda Rights and cuffed. Don winced because the restraint on his wrists was too tight. The officers forced them into the backs of the police vehicles.

  They went quietly.

  ***

  Whistling a happy tune, Charles sped to Denver.

  I can’t wait to blow their heads off. How dare they steal my fucking truck!

  He cried out, oblivious to how other motorists might be gawking at him. “Serial killing and pussy-pumping: Denver, here I come!”

  “Actually, you’re heading to Castle Rock first,” the thundering voice of eons said in his mind. “They’re in jail for stealing your truck. Those palefaces have got themselves a new God — I think it’s one of those goody-two-shoes Indian deities — that’ll break them out of jail. So step on it! I want you waiting outside the jailhouse to blow them to kingdom come.”

  “Anything for you,” Charles answered, “The Not, master.” He sped up, pushing the pedal to the floor. He knew his god would protect him from getting busted for speeding.

  ***

  Pishuni restrained himself from cackling, for that would bring a storm — the last thing Charles needed right now: zero visibility. Therefore, the deity laughed on the inside.

  Why did Don and his group run? There wasn’t anywhere to go.

  Then Pishuni was unable to restrain himself from laughing out loud.

  ***

  Don stood in the holding cell with Rick and Uncle Jim. He worried about Fay, being locked up with dangerous criminals. He walked over and grabbed the bars, not even able to shake them. It was so hot in the cell he wondered if Castle Rock’s finest believed in air-conditioning. Sweat erupted, staining his dress shirt.

  Dang this Indian summer.

  Rick’s voice from behind him: “Are you ready?”

  Don turned around. “For what?”

  “To get out, of course.”

  Don turned back around. “Am I ever! God knows what Fay’s going through.”

  Uncle Jim’s voice from behind him: “Hallelujah. Let’s do it, kid. And Don, forget what Fay’s going through — she’s young and strong. What about Georgia?”

  Don turned again and walked over to Rick. Uncle Jim had risen from his seat.

  Rick said, “Let’s join hands.” They did, forming a circle. “Lord Jesus, they’ve locked our group away in holding cells, wanting to prosecute us for what we had to do — getting some transportation — so once again, behold their threatenings, and break us out of these earthly cells that cannot hold the righteous.”

  They let go of each other’s hand. The guards glowered at them… until an angel materialized in front of the cell.

  Don gasped.

  The cherub must have been ten feet tall — glowing white — arrayed in a gilt girdle and lugging a huge sword in a sheath on his back. His face was like a kind businessman, the type that wouldn’t work for Enron.

  The guards fell into their seats and stared like zombies, apparently unable to move or speak.

  The angel smote the cell door and it came open. The wings on his back arched-up and fluttered for a few seconds, then fell still. “I will usher you out,” his booming voice said. He gesticulated toward the open door.

  Don was nonplussed. He’d never seen anything like it. He glanced at a goggle-eyed Uncle Jim, who looked pale.

  “Come on!” Rick said.

  After getting his bearings back, Don followed Uncle Jim, who followed Rick, who followed the angel. The latter smote the steel doors, and they walked through them until they stood in the foyer that housed the main office. The policeman sitting behind the glass blanched and froze when he spied the angel.

  Rick walked over and stood in front of the heavenly being. “I’ve… g-got to ask. What’s your name?”

  Another well-built angel escorted Fay and Georgia through a door that had flown open. Joyful, Don thought he’d scream with glee.

  “I am Michael, protector of the church — which is not a building, but the body of true believers — and that is Gabriel, the messenger angel.”

  Rick grinned. “Such an honor.” He reached out to shake with him.

  “See that you don’t do it! You must make haste and prevent the world’s destruction.” He pointed to the women and Gabriel. “Talk to Fay and Georgia.”

  Rick waved at Gabriel. “Hi, Gabby!”

  Gabriel waved. Fay rushed over and hugged Don. Georgia did likewise to Uncle Jim. Michael motioned his huge hand towards the front doors, and they opened so hard they bashed against the building and broke the glass.

  “Honey,” Fay told Don, “the angel Gabriel said there would be trouble out there.”

  “He said we should watch our step,” Georgia added.

  Michael looked down upon Don, Fay and Rick, the latter standing beside Don and his wife. “Follow me out and beware. Keep low to the ground.”

  Gabriel’s wings arched and fluttered. He flew out of the space and into the day. Walking in a low crouch, Don and the gang followed Michael out the front door. As soon as they got to the front steps, the engine of a red Ferrari roared as the vehicle pulled up… a young man with long hair and a ripped body sitting behind the wheel. The youth hit the screeching brakes. He took aim with what looked like a .357 Magnum.

  “Everybody hit the dirt,” Don cried, though there was no dirt, just steps. He grabbed Fay and pushed her down. Rick shoved Georgia down.

  Unmercifully, Uncle Jim froze.

  The gunman fired a few shots, almost deafening Don. With supernatural speed, the archangel Michael blocked what bullets he could with the sword, but Uncle Jim dropped beside Don and Fay. The old man’s glasses had been shattered because he’d been shot in the eye. From the upward
angle of the bullet, Don knew it had gone into his brain. Blood and ichor gushed from where his eyeball used to be, covering his face in nauseating grue. The madman continued to fire off shots.

  Gabriel flew into the station and policemen poured out, there being no sight of Michael the Archangel anymore. The cops fired back at the Ferrari. Bullets punched holes into the chassis. Probably protected by a guardian devil, the unharmed murderer tore away from the police station with another screech of the tires and a haze of smoke. Michael seemed to materialize out of nowhere and bent to attend to Uncle Jim and Rick. Most of the officers ran back into the station. They acted like they didn’t dare arrest Don and his group again. One cop called the ambulance on his walkie-talkie, however.

  “Uncle Jim!” Fay said, rising.

  It sounded like she talked in a box for the effect of the Magnum’s blasts on Don’s eardrums. Fay bent over her uncle.

  Don noticed Uncle Jim was dead.

  “No!” Fay wept. “No, God, not my only uncle!”

  Don held her. “Shh, he’s in heaven. We’re the ones left to suffer.”

  Georgia was asking Rick if he was okay. He told her he thought he’d live. But when she looked at Uncle Jim, she screamed and ran over to him.

  “No-oo,” Georgia cried in a grieving, shaky voice. “Not my brother! God, no, don’t let this be!” Bawling, she embraced the corpse.

  With shaky fingers, Don reached over and closed Uncle Jim’s eyes.

  The policeman who called the ambulance walked Rick over to them. Holding onto his left elbow with his hand — while crimson trickled out between his fingers — Rick looked down on Uncle Jim. Rick’s face went ashen. He wept. “Lord, take him into your heaven.”

  “Are you hurt bad?” Don asked Rick.

  He glanced at Don, then seemed to compose himself. Rick shook his head. “It’s just a flesh wound. I’d better get to a hospital though. It hurts like — well, you know.”

  The cop that called said, “The ambulance is coming.” He questioned everyone to see if they knew the gunman, and damned if they did.