Return of the Trickster

by Eden Robinson

  Here was the boy in human form again, opening the door and sliding into the passenger side, offering you an open bottle of vodka. Feathers shining blue-black under the human lie.

  “No?” Jared said when David refused the bottle. “More for me.”

  Ghosts everywhere. Ghosts in a tight circle. The prickle of their touch as they tried to get as close to David as they could. David’s face and the skull beneath it. Bare bone on one side and rotting flesh on the other. In all the time Jared had known him, he thought David was a normal human, but—surprise!—he was not. David was a freak like him. Some supernatural thing hiding in a human body.

  “I see your real face,” Mrs. Jaks had said to you. “Would you like to see what I see, David?”

  You backed away from the hatred in her eyes. The venom. Witch.

  “Mrs. Jaks was okay,” Jared said. Tried to say. Slurred.

  Then he missed her and his dad was dead, and he was sobbing in David’s truck and the man who was supposed to obliterate him finally stopped screaming and flung his driver’s door open and ran.

  Bewildered, Jared watched David sprint down the street, batting ineffectively at the ghosts that followed him, some wispy and faint, some as solid-looking as the living, all of them gliding sadly, determined and relentless. Jared blearily thinking, David is not really David. David sees ghosts too.

  * * *

  —

  Let’s have some tunes.

  Passersby were giving him the side-eye. Day drinking in a truck near a park with children. Tsk-tsk. Jared fell out of the truck, careful to protect his bottle, closing the passenger-side door and using the hood to guide himself around to the driver’s side. Bingo. Keys in the ignition.

  He wasn’t sure what his plan was now. He had no future, so he supposed there was no need for a plan. The booze was going to run out. Not soon. Halfway mark. He was a lightweight now. Not used to drinking anymore. He bent over and upchucked on the stick shift, fumigating the cab with soured vodka and bile. He got the radio to turn on.

  “Reports of a six-vehicle crash eastbound on the Port Mann Bridge. Expect delays in all directions. Use alternate routes.”

  “Kinda disappointed in you, David,” Jared said. “Not living up to your potential for murder.”

  Oh, well. He just had to wait. Georgina’s people would find him. He could feel her in his head, staring out of his eyes.

  “Run off those extra calories from Thanksgiving dinner and register for this weekend’s ten-kilometre Turkey Trot that winds its way along the False Creek Seawall.”

  He couldn’t focus enough to change the channel to something less newsy so had to put up with the constant, dramatic breaking-news blares.

  Phil lifting him off the bed after his alarm went off, making his fingers into pretend scissors. “Up and at ’em! Let’s cut the lazy glue off you, Jelly Bean.”

  His dad was dead. Jared wanted out, out of his head. He took a long swig, but the pain was still there, underneath the hollow disbelief, like a gash that split you open to the bone.

  Now imagine how it feels when some idiot murders your entire family, Georgina thought.

  Not all of them, Jared thought.

  No, Georgina thought. Not all of them.

  Soft, saxophone-y jazz replaced the radio host. Georgina in his head was now annoyed that not only had he killed everyone she loved and left her exiled in another universe, he was forcing her to listen to Kenny G.

  * * *

  —

  Dusk. His eyes narrowed to slits as the world became shadows. The street lights blinked on. A white cargo van parked beside his truck. Coy wolves underneath their human skins. He put the bottle down on the floor, not sure why he didn’t want to spill any of it when he wasn’t coming back. Three men in black with black baseball caps dropped from the van to surround him.

  One of them yanked the driver’s side door open and he slumped out. “For fuck’s sake,” he said. The three dragged him to the van and opened the sliding door. Ghosts milled around. David was there. Why was David there?

  They threw him in. The van’s floor was hard. One of them tied his hands behind his back and the ghosts around David paused to look at him. David screamed through his gag. They gagged Jared too, the cloth cutting into his cheeks. Two of the men stayed in the back.

  “Get lost!” the one who was the driver said as ghosts filled the cab, making the radio channels surge up and down, loud then quiet then squealing with feedback.

  “Turn it off!” one of the guys in the back yelled.

  The ride was jerky, as if they were rolling over cobblestones, probably a bad wheel bearing, and then one of the men hauled off and kicked him, and Jared rolled on the hard floor.

  “He’s off limits,” the driver snapped.

  The ghosts all returned to David, resting their hands on him, pleading silently with their eyes as David screamed until all the muscles in his neck corded.

  Murder van, Jared thought. A van to be murdered in.

  The man who’d kicked him bent over and hissed, “Your dad died squealing like a fat fucking pig.”

  * * *

  —

  The compound was farther than he remembered, a remote lot that used to be a farm before the Tsawwassen ferry terminal was built. A single grey Honda Civic was parked near the entrance. Had the coy wolves all driven to Mave’s apartment when Georgina called them? What had happened to all their vehicles? Were they towed?

  Two of the men dragged David past a blue tarp that hung between two trailers. The other man sat with his gun pointed at Jared. A Glock 19. Glocks were cheap and went bang when she wanted, but his mom didn’t really care for pistols; they were a stopgap measure until she got to her rifles. The tarps formed passages between the trailers, and he didn’t remember the route. Cedar had guided him in the time he had come, and Jared had left in a blind panic. The trailers and modular units were probably a maze on purpose, so morons like him would be lost if they accidentally wandered in. The man holding the pistol on him was in his mid-twenties, if coy wolves aged like humans. Did they? His grim expression and his hateful eyes. The coy wolf beneath his skin snarled.

  A light clicked on, filling a window with a golden glow. Another light clicked on in another trailer. Jared’s breath began to mist with each exhalation, a pale cloud like a cartoon bubble empty of words. His jacket was too light for the cold. Sobering. The two other men came back, chatting, and then each hooked him under an arm so they could haul him along, his feet trailing on the ground. The man with the gun brought up the rear.

  Security floodlights clicked on as they made their way through the compound. The lights clicked off behind them. Hearing something rustle in the darkness, something that didn’t trigger the security lights, they paused. The rain started again, a soft hiss in the puddles, heavy plops on the tarps.

  “I don’t smell anything,” the guy with the gun said. “Keep moving.”

  Deep in the maze, there was a root cellar with steel doors. The man with a gun opened one heavy side and then the other and there were wooden steps. Jared heard David mumbling through his gag somewhere inside. Dirt walls. Dirt floor. Mr. Jaks had built a root cellar, but it flooded every spring and summer. The men wanted to throw him down the stairs, but Gun Guy said Granny Georgina wouldn’t like it.

  They half carried him down. The cellar was lit by a naked bulb. David was in the middle of the floor, in a chair that looked as though it had been an electric chair in the Dark Ages, his wrists bound to the arms with leather straps and his legs duct-taped to the chair legs. Extension cords ran down the dirt walls to a table with a machete, some paring knives, an electric knife, a deep fryer and a stack of paper plates with matching napkins. Right, Jared thought. Georgina and her cannibalistic tendencies. Jared’s memories of being cracked and ripped open, of watching his body eaten. Her enthusiasm for warm, raw flesh. The ghosts finally se
emed to notice that David was in trouble. They milled around, confused. David jerked against the restraints. Gun Guy closed the steel doors and locked them and then paused on the bottom step, sniffing. Jared’s cheek rested against the cold dirt.

  Gun Guy holstered his gun. He stood over Jared then grabbed a paring knife off the table and cut the gag loose. He slapped Jared’s face.

  “Hey,” Gun Guy said. “Sober up.”

  One of the other men took off David’s gag and he shouted over and over for help. They laughed, mimicking him. They brought the deep fryer to one side of David’s chair and plugged it into one of the extension cords. Gun Guy grabbed a folding chair and sat near Jared.

  “What is he?” Gun Guy said to Jared, pointing his chin at David.

  “Dunno,” Jared said.

  “Hey, Freak,” Gun Guy said to David. “What are you?”

  “He’s been stalking me for months,” Jared said.

  “That’s lame,” Gun Guy said. “If you’re not going to eat what you hunt, what’s the point?”

  “I just meant that he doesn’t mean anything to me,” Jared said.

  “Granny Georgina wants us to give you a demonstration, so you’re going to get a demonstration.”

  “The wi-fi’s off,” said the third coy wolf.

  “Watch your porn later,” Gun Guy said.

  “It means our security cameras are down, fuckface.”

  “So fix it.”

  “I need to check the router in the office.”

  “Go with him,” Gun Guy said to the other one.

  “Don’t start without us,” the coy wolf who had kicked Jared said.

  “Weapons!” Gun Guy yelled at them as they clumped up the stairs in their boots.

  “Yeah, yeah,” they said.

  He pulled his pistol from its holster and rested it on his thigh. He stared at the door as if he was willing something to come through it so he could shoot.

  Jared realized Georgina was gone from his head. Off to get a pedicure. Going to play some keno at the mall. Bowling with the girls. Eating another couple ape men.

  “I’m not bringing her back,” Jared said.

  “Then we’re going to kill everyone you know and you’re going to watch.”

  “I’m going to die.”

  “You’re going to live,” Gun Guy said, “until you aren’t useful anymore.”

  David took a deep, loud breath. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus—”

  “What’s he on about?” Gun Guy said.

  “It’s an exorcism,” Jared said. “He thinks we’re demons.”

  “—Omnis satanica potestas! Omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio!”

  “Have you looked in the mirror, Freak?”

  David continued to chant, looking skywards as if God was going to drop from heaven and rescue him. The root cellar filled with the distinctive odour of bubbling canola oil from the deep fryer, bringing back sudden memories of working at Dairy Queen.

  “Can I have a beer?” Jared said.

  Gun Guy took the safety off his Glock. “You killed my sister. Not that she was a wonderful ball of sunshine, but family, right?”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  “But you did. So here we are.”

  “God,” Jared said. “I wasted so much time being sober.”

  * * *

  —

  The kicker and the porn watcher came back with protective aprons and arm-length gloves, and a wooden stick with a shackle screwed at one end. They cut off the sleeve of David’s shirt as David gibbered. Was that the right word? Sounds that made no sense, frantic.

  The coy wolves hadn’t been able to fix the wi-fi and they argued about the lack of security cameras, whose fault it was, who should stand guard, ultimately deciding no one knew they were here, so they would eat fast and fix the wi-fi later.

  Jared’s mind flipped to Phil standing in the doorway, sadly waving goodbye.

  I’m back, Georgina said to them all.

  Hello, Granny, Gun Guy thought at her.

  Put a blocking charm on him, Georgina said.

  He’s not going anywhere, Gun Guy said.

  He’s extremely empathetic. He’ll feel everything this David feels.

  Isn’t that what we want?

  He’ll pass it along to you. Unless you want to feel yourself being eaten as you eat, go get a charm.

  No one moved.

  “Don’t all volunteer at once,” Gun Guy said.

  “I have money,” David said. “I have lots of money. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll do anything.”

  David looked hopefully at Gun Guy. David looked hopefully at Jared. The two coy wolves watched Gun Guy clomp away up the steps and as soon as he closed the cellar doors, they grabbed paring knives and, stepping carefully around the deep fryer, started making quick, shallow slices in David’s flesh. David howled and Jared felt each sly cut, an overwhelming taste of copper filling his mouth. The coy wolves yipped and dropped their knives.

  I told you that would happen. Patience, Georgina said, irritated.

  David screamed and Jared felt his raw throat, the cuts that burned.

  “Fuck,” Porn Watcher said. “Gran, help!”

  You didn’t listen, did you? I can’t do anything from here. He’s too far from me and he’s shifty.

  “I’ll do what you want! I’ll do anything you want!” David moaned. “Anything! Anything!”

  “Anything,” Kicker said in a high falsetto.

  They parked themselves in folding chairs and took off their gloves to check their phones. David yanked at his restraints, sweating and bug-eyed. The room filled with the tangy smell of his fear. The ghosts began to drift away.

  We’re all meat, Georgina said to him.

  Gun Guy returned and closed the doors behind himself. He held up the charm.

  I won’t be able to reach you through that, Georgina said to Jared. Enjoy the show.

  Gun Guy put the charm around his neck then dragged him over to the steps, where he made Jared kneel.

  “Eyes open,” Gun Guy said. “Or I will hurt you.” He held Jared by the hair so he couldn’t look away and nodded at the other two.

  The wolves put their phones and gloves on the table. They attached the shackle to David’s wrist. They murmured to each other as they put their gloves back on. One of them held the stick while the other undid the leather strap that held David’s arm to the chair. David fought, bouncing the stick, and the wolves hooted as if they’d caught a big fish. Slowly, slowly, they brought David’s hand down to the deep fryer.

  I don’t want to be here, Jared thought.

  Pork chops. Bacon. Sell the sizzle. The hiss of food hitting the deep fryer. David jumped in the chair as though he was being electrocuted, his screams strangling into a wordless O. The acrid smell of piss and then shit. Stains on the front of his khakis, his head jerking.

  David went limp. They tucked the stick at an angle that let the cooked hand rest on the chair’s arm. Porn Watcher took the machete from the table and chopped off the deep-fried hand while Kicker put a paper plate underneath to catch it. Porn Watcher held up the deep-fried thumb for Gun Guy, who shook his head.

  “Are you going hugan on us?” Kicker teased.

  “Cholesterol,” Gun Guy said, letting go of Jared’s hair. “I’ll slow-cook the rump roast later.”

  As he went over to study David, Jared doubled over. He heaved. Felt firm bits of himself blocking his airway as his organs decided fuck this shit and struggled up into his mouth. The wolves chuckled as they watched him puking. They were nibbling David’s fingers like chicken wings when Jared’s liver plopped onto the dirt floor. It shook itself off, then hopped up the stairs.

  The coy wolves watched with their mouths hanging open. They stood as if frozen, as if the
y’d turned into statues.

  Jared heaved and heaved and, in between spurts of blood, further organs plopped in the dirt. He told them all bon voyage and they rolled to the stairs and hopped up like skinned, bloody, limbless bunnies. As they wiggled themselves under the steel doors, Gun Guy ran to the stairs and then realized the other two weren’t following. “Get after them.”

  “Why bother? We’ve got most of him,” Porn Watcher said.

  “He’s our ticket out of here,” Gun Guy said. “Do you want to hang around for the rest of the Anthropocene? I don’t.”

  The other two coy wolves scrambled past Jared up the stairs and pitched the steel doors open. Jared crumpled to the dirt. He heard a crack as if someone had banged a hammer on the steel door. Followed by a couple of double taps. Kicker tumbled down the stairs, headless. Then came some distinctive pings, higher and quicker.

  In the sudden silence, David moaned. His arm flailed and the stick came loose, knocking over the deep fryer, which sighed as the oil glooped a few times and spread onto the floor. The shackle fell off, taking skin with it, and David came to consciousness screaming and screaming and screaming.

  Jared’s mom came down the steps, scanning the room with her AK-15. Richie followed with a Glock. She stopped in front of David, safetied her automatic and slung it so it hung against her back. His mom took her hunting knife and, with a few graceful steps forward, slid it between David’s ribs, angling upwards, giving it an extra push until he gurgled into silence.

  She glanced at Richie, who said, “Clear,” and then the two of them went through all the dead guys’ pockets, removing the cash from their wallets. Finally she came over and knelt beside Jared, and took the charm off his neck.

  Georgina was in his head instantly, raging incoherently.

  I hear you, his mom thought. You dumb cunt.

  You’re going to pay, Georgina said. I promise you suffering. I will bring you to the bowels of hell.

  Your morons won’t last the week, his mom thought. Sophia Martin. You killed her son. She’s a Halayt. Did you want a war with a Halayt? ’Cause, oh, baby, she’s gonna hunt you all down. And anyone she misses, I’m going to give the Old Yeller treatment to, you rabid idiots.