GODWALKER

by Unknown

  “Not me. But it doesn’t matter if you don’t believe in occultism, because occultism believes in you. Believes enough to kill and die.” He leaned back, took a breath, wiped his mouth. “You’re just lucky that your mom and I found you first.”

  “Actually, it was that weirdo Dobbs who found me first.”

  “Okay, you’re lucky I was around to save you from him. He’s a cold-water predator, son, and don’t you forget it.”

  “I thought you told me you didn’t know him.”

  Fred bit his lip.

  “Well… okay, yeah, a white lie, you caught me.”

  Joe blew out an exasperated sigh.

  “So, wait. You admit that you lied to me? But I’m still supposed to believe you about all this, this Invisible Hermo-whatever? Sorry man. My dad thought you were full of crap from the first, and I’m starting to come over to his point of view.” He turned to Leslie and said, “You look a lot like my mom did. I mean, a lot. So I guess there might be something to this whole business about us being switched at birth. But the rest of it? Sorry, no sale.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?” Fred asked.

  “Dad…” Leslie said, in a warning tone of voice.

  “No, Joe. Are you calling me a fuckin’ liar?”

  Joe looked away, blushing, embarrassed. “Shit Fred. I don’t… look, let’s drop it.”

  “You want proof?”

  “You don’t have to…”

  “No, come outside with me, I’ll show you proof. I’ll show you right fuckin’ now that magick is real, and it works.”

  Kate opened her mouth to say something, but remembering the previous night she couldn’t decide what to say.

  “Otherwise I’m a liar, right Joe? Right?”

  “C’mon… I just…”

  “I’ll show you right now.”

  “Dad, don’t!” But it was too late.

  Joe didn’t know what was happening, but he could see Kate’s fear and hear Leslie’s alarm, and he shrank back, instinctively raising his arms. It did no good.

  Fred reached out with his willpower, with the same clutching violence that had carved into Seth Dobbs’ hand, focusing on Joe’s belly—after all, he didn’t want to put the mark on the boy’s face or anything—and through clenched teeth he hissed the word “Proof.”

  Nothing happened.

  Fred blinked, then his eyes got wide.

  “Holy shit,” he muttered.

  “What?” Joe whispered.

  “I don’t believe it,” Kate said.

  “What’s going on?” Leslie asked.

  Fred cleared his throat. “Uh, well. There were certain… preparations we made… while Kate was pregnant. And it seems that Joe is, uh… resistant to magick.”

  “What?” Joe and Leslie said it almost at the same moment, though both were expressing different things. Leslie was just confused. Joe’s skepticism had returned, redoubled.

  “Are you sure you didn’t just flub the spell?” Leslie asked. Fred shook his head. “I felt the juice go, son. The spell worked fine, except for not doing anything.”

  Joe grimaced. “How very convenient,” he said at last.

  “I never thought that part would work,” Kate said, to no one in particular.

  “Lady, I never thought any of this abra-crap-dabra would work. Shit.” Joe shook his head. “So you can’t prove this ‘magick’ works, because I’m magick-proof? And what, because you put a magick spell on me when I was just a baby? Jesus Christ.”

  “Joe, you gotta believe me…”

  “Oh give it up Fred,” Kate said. She sat back and threw up her hands. “Look Fred, we lost. Get it? We are not going to replace the Mystic Hermaphrodite with our son. He’s not going to be the godwalker. He’s probably not going to do anything except stay here, work for his dad, and kill a lot of insects.”

  “But, don’t you see? The pregnant male! This proves we were on the right track!” Fred’s voice was full of painful frustration.

  “Hey Joe.”

  All four of them looked up. They had been so involved in their conversation, that none of them had noticed the arrival of a short, young black man in the uniform of a police officer.

  “Hey Luther,” Joe said.

  “Who are your buddies, here?” Luther asked, with a friendly smile.

  “Oh, some folks from out of town,” Joe said, giving the Mundys a dismissive glance. “What’s up?”

  “Been busy,” Luther said. “Some strange doings at the Sleepy Teepee.”

  “Yuh huh?”

  Luther glanced at the Mundys and decided there was no harm.

  “Yeah. Seems like people heard someone yelling, couple nights ago. When the maid goes in, she finds blood on the table and the screen window busted out. Right now it’s just some guy ditching his bill, but you never know.”

  “Huh, weird,” Joe said, eyes narrowed. “So, what was the bill jumper’s name?”

  “I got it right here,” Luther said, consulting a notepad. “Signed in as Seth Dobbs. How come you ask?”

  “Say Fred,” Joe said, turning, his eyes narrowed with a touch of malice. “Didn’t you just tell me you knew someone named Seth Dobbs?”

  Luther took a closer look at Fred, and his eyes narrowed. The older man had an edgy guardedness that he couldn’t quite hide, and it made Luther suspicious.

  Fred ran his tongue over the front of his teeth, then smiled.

  “Yeah, I think the guy’s name was Dobbs. Kind of a weirdo,” he said, widening his eyes and broadening his voice just a touch. “Nothing I could put my finger on real exactly. I mean he seemed friendly, but kind of too friendly? There was just something about him. One thing was, he paused too long when you asked him a question? Kind of like he was, you know, a little off. Like, off in his own little world. You know the type? And he’d say these kind of creepy things and sort of giggle about it. You know, I think he gave me his card, even,” Fred said, reaching for his wallet.

  “But Fred,” Joe said, unwilling to let the older man off the hook. “You’re staying at the Super 8, aren’t you?”

  “Uh, yes. I am now, yeah. Actually, I switched hotels because Dobbs gave me such a funny vibe. At the time I felt kind of silly.” He handed the card to Luther, but looked at Joe as he pointedly said, “But maybe it was smart of me to follow that irrational gut feeling.”

  Luther looked at the card, tapped it against his hand like a fan and said, “Would you mind giving me a statement, sir?”

  Fred’s body instinctively shied away, but he forced a grin and said “Why certainly, officer.” He stood, and the two of them went off to a quiet corner booth.

  Kate stared after them, and her hand drifted up to her throat.

  “Joe, you should stay away from him,” she said abruptly.

  “Huh?”

  She sighed. “Fred had a big plan, and you were a big part of it… and I don’t think he’s going to give it up easily.”

  “What plan?”

  She shook her head. “If you don’t believe, it doesn’t make any difference. Hell, it doesn’t matter one way or the other. You’re not going to be the godwalker, and if he tries to force you he’s just going to waste his time and hurt you in the process.” She looked at Leslie. “I think we both have something to answer for in that department.”

  Seeing the look, Joe looked at Leslie too. Leslie shrugged. “Everyone’s life has static,” he said.

  Kate grinned. “Well, I see you’ve got the forgiveness business down pat.”

  “That another part of being a radio person?” Joe asked.

  “No, it’s part of being a decent person,” Kate said. “The plan was, we have this perfect child—perfect for being the Mystic Hermaphrodite, anyhow—and we raise him to be decent and kind and forgiving and moral. At the same time, we train him to be the best embodiment of the Hermaphrodite, so that eventually he ascends to the Clergy, displacing the old Hermaphrodite and… well, making the world one three hundred and thirty-third part better.” S
he saw Joe’s confusion and shook her head again. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Joe sighed. “Look, I feel like I should… I dunno, like I ought to get to know you better and stuff. But is this going to come up every time I see you?”

  Kate nodded, sadly. “Probably. That’s our life, Joe. It’s what we do.”

  “For some of us, what we are,” Leslie added, in a quiet tone.

  Now it was Joe’s turn to shake his head.

  “I don’t get it. I really, just… don’t. Look, I gotta go, patch things up with my dad. You have my phone number? Call me, some time, I guess.” He stood, glanced over at the corner. “Give Fred my regrets.” He reached for his wallet.

  “Breakfast’s on me,” Leslie said.

  “Naw, I got it.”

  In the corner, Fred became agitated as he saw Joe leaving, but he felt he couldn’t afford to put Luther on his guard. By the time Fred was finished with his statement, Joe was crossing the street to the Super 8.

  “Why’d you let him get away?” he demanded. Kate rolled her eyes.

  “What was I supposed to do? Handcuff him to his chair?” Fred started towards the door, and Kate grabbed his wrist.

  “Fred, let him go,” she said urgently. “He’s not…” She sighed, looked down at her plate. “Fred, the plan is not going to work. We have to face that. We tried hard, we fought the good fight, but it is not going to work.”

  “How can you be so sure? ‘If you’re not going to go all the way, why go?’”

  “Don’t you throw that back in my face. It’s not going to work because he doesn’t believe in it and doesn’t want to be part of it. Or do you think you can force him?”

  Fred sat, a disgusted look on his face.

  “So, what? We just sit back and wait for a predator like Dermott Kane to come along and punk him out? Or do we just step aside and let the Freak turn him into a grease spot on the floor?”

  “It’s been twenty-one years and no one’s found him yet. Besides, you yourself said he’s spell-proof.”

  “Yeah, but spell-proof ain’t bulletproof.”

  * * *

  Joe kept shaking his head the whole way home. None of it made any sense, on the face of things. Leslie… he (she?) looked so much like his mom. But then they all started talking bizarre moon pie invisible mystic bullshit! And looking at him like they expected him to go right along, like it was the most sensible thing in the world.

  He knew he should be figuring out what to say to his dad, but his mind kept drifting back to Kate and Leslie. Was Kate really his mom? And Leslie would be… hell, about the only person in the whole mess who wasn’t related to him, one way or another. Yet he was the one who seemed to have his head screwed on tightest.

  “Fuck,” he muttered. “Family’s in bad shape when the gender bender is the sensible one.”

  He parked in the driveway, put his key in the front door, and only looked up when the door got stuck on something. He pushed harder, and saw his father sprawled in the entryway.

  “Dad?”

  He stumbled forward, saw the tidy hole in his father’s face, saw the open staring eyes.

  A fly landed on Ralph’s eye, and Ralph did not blink.

  Joe threw up on his father’s corpse.

  * * *

  Back at the diner, the Mundy family had fallen into a familiar pattern. Kate and Frank were bickering and Leslie was trying to defuse the argument. It lasted them through their second cups of coffee and the pointed division of the bill. It only stopped when Leslie noticed Luther talking urgently into his radio, then standing abruptly and running towards his car.

  “Mom, Dad,” Leslie said as Luther pulled out. “Isn’t that cop car headed towards Joe’s place?”

  The two older Mundys exchanged a look.

  “Probably nothing,” Kate said.

  “Still, might as well be sure,” Fred replied.

  * * *

  In the Super 8, the Freak woke up. It had the covers pulled up over its head, as it always did. Sometimes, in its sleep, the Freak would change back to its original appearance. The last time it had happened, it had been with someone—another pickup, one who fell asleep with his arm around the man of his dreams and woke up with a mousy woman screaming and staring across the room at a mirror.

  As it came more awake, the Freak remembered that this hotel room did, in fact, have a mirror across from the bed. That was pretty common, really. A trick to make a small room look bigger. It took a deep breath and closed its eyes, taking stock.

  Its face hadn’t changed. That was good. There was a little ache in its leg, from where the bone had healed years ago, and it figured the weather might be changing. Its arm was sore from yesterday’s probe, probably a little stiff and slow. Maybe even slowed down to human levels.

  Man today, it decided. Overall, it was easier to deal with strangers as a man, especially when traveling. Being a woman was better for getting to know someone. Over the years, the Freak had noticed that. Specifically, it found that women reacted better to brunette women, while men really did prefer blondes.

  It also decided to be a little chubby. Its weight stayed at a steady 250, no matter how short or skinny it decided to be, but its density changed dramatically. People tended to relax around fat people. Certainly they never expected them to be quick.

  With the covers still over its head, it made the superficial changes—the height, the weight. When it was changed, it got up and showered. Only when it was clean did it make the most important change of the day.

  With a deep breath and an effort of will, the Freak changed from woman to man. It flexed its soul, and for a moment it was open to everything, naked to the universe, all things at once. All its petty concerns and irritations vanished like leaves in a hot fire, while the greater drives—revenge, safety, the need to be someone else—yielded more slowly.

  For just an instant, the pain of being, of having once been, a shy and confused and miserable woman named Chris Indrick was totally gone. In its hotel room, for a brief moment, the godwalker touched the truth.

  * * *

  In Fred’s rented Nissan, Leslie sat back abruptly and sucked in an unsteady breath.

  “What is it?” Kate asked.

  “Somewhere nearby, an adept is gathering power,” Leslie said, his eyes distant and hollow.

  “What? You sure?” Fred asked, glancing into the backseat.

  “How much?” Kate asked. “Can you tell what kind, or where?”

  Leslie closed his eyes and didn’t bother answering his father. “It was… strong. A pretty good charge. The adept is somewhere behind us… and I don’t think he’s far.”

  “What kind was it, Leslie? What kind of magick?”

  “Something I haven’t felt before… something alien and very, very pure.”

  * * *

  Joe was carefully not looking towards the front door. He glanced at the TV, and wandered over to the china cabinet. For the first time in years, he noticed how dusty everything was. He opened a drawer, then closed it.

  “Jesus fuck!”

  He turned halfway to the door at Luther’s voice, then flinched back.

  “Hi Luther.”

  “Shit Joe, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m all right.”

  “You didn’t touch nothin’, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t touch… uh, anything. It doesn’t look like anything got stolen. I’ve been looking around.”

  Gingerly, Luther reached towards the mortal remains of Ralph Kimble.

  “God Joe, he’s still warm!” He looked up. “Whoever did it, you must have just missed him!”

  “Huh.” Joe moved towards the couch to have a seat, pausing only to turn his body so that he faced away from the door.

  “Seriously Joe… are you okay?” Luther had never seen Joe look so empty, and he was starting to get scared.

  “I’m not hurt, if that’s what you mean.”

  Luther walked over and sat by the window, so that he was in Joe’s l
ine of sight.

  “Listen Joe, this is important. Can you think of anyone who had a motive to kill your father?”

  “Actually, I’m not sure he is my father.”

  Then, in an instant, Joe’s face changed. He lunged to his feet.

  “Them! Luther, them! They did it!”

  Luther turned to follow Joe’s gaze out the window, where he saw the strangers from the diner driving slowly past. Then he heard the rattle of the gun cabinet door. He turned back just in time to see Joe bolting towards the front door, shotgun in hand.

  “Joe! Shit, don’t!”

  Joe hesitated a split second before stepping over his father. Luther sprang from the chair and tried to grab Joe as he ran through the door, but missed his friend’s arm by inches.

  “You fuckers!” Joe screamed, running across the front lawn, pumping the gun.

  In the back seat, Leslie’s jaw dropped.

  “Dad, go!” he said, but Fred’s foot was already stomping the gas pedal.

  Joe halted, put the gun to his shoulder, aimed with a furious stillness, and pulled the trigger.

  His reward was the click of a dry fire.

  “Shit!” he shrieked. He pumped the gun and pulled the trigger again, even though he remembered his father unloading it, and then Luther pelted up behind him, knocked the gun upward and yanked it out of his hands.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “They did it Luther! They’re the ones! They killed my dad!”

  “Shit…” Luther stared after the racing Nissan. “You stay here, got me? You sit right here.” Then he ran to his squad car, Joe’s shotgun in hand, reaching for his radio at the same time.

  Joe stared after the Nissan. Then he sat down on the lawn and put his head in his hands.

  Shall the blind lead

  The blind?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Police Chief Walter Stelke took a swig of Maalox straight from the bottle and sucked his teeth, thinking. On his desk was yesterday’s arrest report on today’s murder victim, Ralph Kimble.