The Escape
The trailer was silent, as it always was during the day while Miss Felony was at work. On the television a pornographic tape was playing, but they had finally figured out how to set the sound on MUTE. It didn’t matter. Roderick and Jamie had seen this movie a thousand times before. It was the one with the girl in the airport who ends up fucking two of the pilots in the cockpit of a jumbo jet. Even with the sound off they could hear her moaning in their heads.
More and more, Roderick was beginning to feel that there was no escape.
Over and over they watched the penis go in and out of the vagina. They saw the look of passion on the girl’s face. They saw the men smiling and idiotic with their huge genitals. They high-fived one another and laughed. It was boring.
Finally, Jamie shut the porn off and simply sat in the dark, enjoying the peace and quiet. “I don’t want to be like that when I grow up,” he whispered, not wishing the shatter the still of the trailer. The boys had learned to enjoy silence.
“Me, either.”
“Do you believe in love?”
“No such thing,” Roderick said flatly, like a robot, merely repeating the mantra that Miss Felony had drilled into his skull. There was no such thing as love. There was no such thing as love.
“I don’t either.”
Roderick shut his eyes and sighed. He leaned back into the couch, letting it contour to his body. Tonight, it would fold out into a bed. He could remember, not so long ago, how exciting it was to sleep in a real bed. That first night in this trailer made the orphanage seem very far away. It was a new world, one open to all forms of exploration.
Memories came into sharp focus. The orphanage in Mexico was a hard place to forget. It was an institutional facility, meant for incarceration and punishment, not growth. Why were they being punished? Simply for being born. There were bars on the windows, and instead of beds they got cots. Thin cots with even thinner blankets. Love did not exist in this world. Roderick had been there for months when, at random, a new boy was placed next to him. He introduced himself as Jamie.
Jamie was a smaller child, and therefore an immediate victim. His only hobby seemed to be crying and, even in Roderick’s young breast, there was something that screamed out to comfort him. Why, Roderick had never been able to say. Maybe it was the simple desire to have a brother. Maybe it was merely a need to find someone else in this world. Maybe it was something akin to love. But it was not love.
Still, he knew that he had to protect this boy from the bullies who wanted his hide. He knew that it was his responsibility to see the boy through this makeshift prison.
That first night, listening to the child weeping in the bunk next to him, he had made a vow. Someday this would be over.
And in time he got to know Jamie. Jamie was not like him. Roderick had been born into this world. Jamie came from the world outside. His parents had died in a car accident. He had no other living relatives. A few wrong rolls of the dice and here he was. A fish out of water, dying on land.
Then she showed up.
He could still remember seeing Miss Felony for the first time. There were no women like her at the orphanage. She was tall, but full. Fat. That made Roderick curious. Here was a woman who could eat. Here was a woman who was could live. Here was a woman who took up all the space in the world that she wanted, everyone else be damned. That attracted the young boy.
He and Jamie were off to the side of the playground the day she entered the orphanage. They were plotting revenge against this kid Jason who had stolen Jamie’s candy bar at lunch. They spoke in low whispers.
“Okay, so when he’s not looking you get down on your knees behind him. Then I’ll push him over. That fucker will fall right into the mud.”
“But what if he gets up?”
“Then I’ll knock him the fuck out,” Roderick whispered. Neither of them noticed the woman standing behind them.
“And just what are you two plotting?” Miss Felony asked. She towered over them like some sort of perfumed God, looking down on them with her narrow eyes. She spoke in perfect English, a language that had been half-heartedly taught to the two boys just in case they ever decided to jump the border.
Jamie and Roderick had no answer for her. They stood up straight, keeping their backs rigid. This was what they had been taught. Whenever you meet a new adult they were a possible parent. It did not do to slouch, or frown, or in any way look weak. No one wanted to adopt a weak child.
Miss Felony’s eyes went over them again and again, taking in every inch. An eternity of scrutiny passed and finally she pronounced judgment.
“You,” she said, nodding at Roderick. “You might be the one that I need.”
At those words his heart soared. Here was someone who might adopt him. Here was someone who might take him away from this place. Here was someone ...
“I’m not going anywhere without my brother,” he said in gruff English, grabbing Jamie by the neck in what was supposed to be a loving embrace but ended up hurting the smaller boy.
She looked at Jamie, who simpered and did not make eye contact. He kept staring at his shoes while Miss Felony scrutinized him. A cold smile curled on her lips. “Well, now. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Paperwork had been filled out. There were forms and interviews. Fingerprints were taken. Photos for passports were made. And a week later they were walking out of the institution for the last time. No one said good bye. No one would miss them. Roderick and Jamie did not care. The world was waiting for them.
This was waiting for them.
The first thing Miss Felony had them do was strip off all their clothing. Then she inspected them. Roderick could remember the excitement growing in his young body as Miss Felony touched his penis, lifting it in her palm like a little worm. Next to him Jamie squirmed. He often spoke about something on the outside called molestation. Apparently, it was the worst thing you could do to a boy. Roderick didn’t seem to mind. He had been through worse in the orphanage.
“You’re good,” she said, letting him go. “But you.” She turned her focus to Jamie who was considerably smaller. The boy stammered. “Not good enough,” she said, looking at his sunken chest and his slender body. “We need you to be strong. The world belongs to the mighty. The world belongs to the artists.”
Neither of them knew what she was talking about. Art was a word they never heard back at the orphanage. They would learn about the art she was talking about.
Roderick opened his eyes. Jamie was cross-legged on the floor, still watching the porno movie. Absently he played with his tiny prick, even though it was completely flaccid. A stab of guilt cut through Roderick’s heart. This was all his fault. He had brought them here. He had introduced Jamie to this awful life. That awful woman. And he had to see to it that they escaped.
Then they heard the noise.
“What was that?”
Jamie was already up, his selfish game forgotten. “It sounded like laughter.”
They ran to the window and opened it wide, looking out. Two children were playing in the street, a boy and a girl. They had never seen children at The Copacabana before. Now here they were, running barefoot across the tarmac. The sun was out, and they stopped at Mr. Opus’s trailer. They danced on the grass, which Roderick and Jamie knew for a fact was fake. “Plastic,” Miss Felony told them. “Like everything else in this damn world.” But the new kids did not seem to care. Their laughter echoed up and down the street. Neither was wearing clothing. A boy and a girl.
Jamie and Roderick continued to watch, stunned, as the boy took her in his arms. They recognized these actions. He was about to fuck her only it did not seem like the sex in the movies. There was a way he touched her that was so gentle. And a way she responded, passionate but not grotesque. They were not about to fuck. They were going to make love.
“She’s beautiful,” Jamie said. “Like the girl in the dream!” he suddenly realized, bolting up. “It’s her! Roderick, it’s the girl from m
y dream! The one with the bullfighters!”
But Roderick was beyond caring. The laughter had gotten into him like an infection. He could not remember the last time he had laughed. He could not remember the last time he had played outside. And the girl, the one from Jamie’s dream, was doing something to him. She made him feel like he had never felt before. He had seen thousands of naked women, but this was a girl. And she looked so innocent. Her vagina was not shaved like the women in porn. She was too young to have any hair.
The boy was blonde, and his hair was wispy and alive on his head. Not her. Her hair was jet black and it fell in a sharp bob cut around her face. Freckles danced across her milk white skin. They were everywhere, like flowers blooming in a spring time he had never seen. Roderick also noticed that the boy looked weak. He was small. Like Jamie.
“We have to go out there.”
“But Miss Felony ...”
Roderick looked at his brother. “How does she expect us to ever get laid if we don’t leave this fucking trailer?”
“I ...” the thought of getting laid silenced him. Besides, that was the girl from his dream. This meant something. It meant everything.
“Go put your clothes on.”
Jamie looked at his brother as if he had just spoken a sentence in fluent Martian, but he had no argument. He knew that Roderick was right. Roderick was always right.
The only clothes they had were from the orphanage, the bad state issued suits that they had walked out in. When was the last time they had been worn? On that day, then never again. Now they got dressed. It felt great to have the fabric next to their bodies. Roderick even remembered how to tie the tie around his throat, and he helped Jamie do the same.
“What if Miss Felony comes back?” Jamie asked as Roderick’s fingers fumbled around his throat. “She won’t be happy if she finds us outside. You know what she’ll do.”
“It’s not going to matter anymore,” Roderick told him, straightening the knot a little too tight, hopefully to shut him up. “Because we’re not coming back.”
“We’re not?” Jamie asked.
Roderick shook his head. “It’s time we left this place behind. For good.”
“But this is our home. How will we live? What will we eat? Where will we sleep?”
Roderick had no answer to any of those questions. And he did not need or want one. All his thoughts were focused on that girl.
And this had never been home. People like he and Jamie did not have the luxury of home.
The Third Vial
The figure stepped from the smoke like a phantom. He was an ethereal character, made from the stuff of dreams.
Joseph Opus took another hit off the crack pipe and blew. The smoke seemed to enter the being, filling it with a nebulous substance. A pair of eyes opened and looked at him.
How high was he? Joseph wondered. High enough to be dreaming during the day.
The creature smiled. “Hello, Joseph.”
Joseph nodded, not daring to react. To have a daydream was one thing. To hold a conversation with it was something else entirely.
“It has been too long,” the figure said and casually took a seat in the chair opposite him, as if he was a guest in his home. All Joseph could do was look. The man was slight, barely the size of a child, with frail bones and fine shimmering hair. A long nose stretched from his face, behind which were two sharp emerald eyes that locked onto everything with a piercing gaze. It wore a green suit that matched, with blue trim that did not appear to be a color from this universe. And his ears were pointed. That was when Joseph knew who he was.
“King Lordax,” he muttered in the voice of an adult. But how could this be? He had not seen Lordax since he was a child. And even then, he was nothing but a fever dream.
“I would say that you have done well for yourself,” Lordax complimented him with a cruel smile, looking around the small trailer with a sneer before his eyes landed on Joseph again. “But we both know that would be a lie.”
“You are real?” Joseph asked, his eye brow arching. It couldn’t be. This had to be a bad batch of crack he was smoking.
“As real as I always was,” Lordax assured him. “And very happy to see you again.”
Joseph could remember the first time they had met, even though he had not thought of it in ages. He was a sickly boy, and the fever had caught up with him as it always did. He could remember lying in bed, near death. That was when the visions came, creations of the fever. He saw angels. And these angels brought gifts. One of them was named King Lordax, an angel greater than the others. Lordax came and sat with him. Lordax spoke with him. Lordax gave him something.
The substance eased the fever and set Joseph Opus back squarely in the lands of the living, although since that day he had been changed. Since that day he had been in search of all the ugly things the human body was capable of. After that he became obsessed with disease, and shit, and blood and everything else that was unhealthy. All the things that could come out of a human body were of interest, the fouler the better. All because of this angel named King Lordax.
“The world still turns, eh Opus?”
Joseph nodded. He held out the crack pipe to the elf like a peace pipe.
“Ah, certainly. Don’t mind if I do,” Lordax said, accepting the offering. Like a magic trick the cigarette lighter appeared between his fingers. He sparked the wet cocaine and inhaled. For an eternity he held it within his lungs before finally exhaling.
The smoke between them was filled with all the wonders of Gurkiel. Joseph looked in to the fugue and saw the city and the half-lings. He saw the Quicksilver Stallion and the trolls. He saw ogres and the gremlins. He saw ...
The dragon. It was hideous in its intensity. Black and giant, with wings that blotted out the sky and a mouth that breathed smoke and fire. Joseph looked at it and recoiled, trying to hide within the couch. Lordax just laughed and flapped an arm, erasing the smoke. “You always did hate the dragon, didn’t you?”
Joseph nodded, knowing that now he would be cursed with nightmares for the rest of his days. The dragon was an awful thing, like a scar inside his brain that would never fade.
“All humans do,” Lordax said, passing the crack pipe back to him. “You know what it is, don’t you? Dinosaurs. You know, those monsters you read about in story books? Sure, they call them history but they’re wrong. All men remember dinosaurs. They were terrifying creatures when they walked this earth, and men were their favorite snack. But I am not here to talk philosophy.”
“Why are you here?”
“I came to give you something, of course.” Lordax reached into his coat and pulled out a vial. Inside there was a blue substance that seemed to glitter and glow, like crushed sky. “You know what this is?”
Joseph nodded. That was happiness, put into a bottle. It was peace and it was agony. It was everything.
“Do you want it?” Lordax asked, holding it out to him.
Joseph reached for it like a baby for its rattle, the yearning in his eyes unstoppable. At the last moment Lordax pulled it away.
“And you know what to do with it?”
“Infect,” Joseph stammered. “Mass produce it. I will give it to everyone. This entire world ...” will have such lovely dreams, right before the end.
“That’s what you said last time,” Lordax shook his head. “When you were a child. You promised me that the world would suffer.”
With a shake of his head Joseph started to fight off the cotton in his mind. “But I was just a boy back then. I didn’t know about chemistry.”
“And now?” Lordax demanded.
Joseph held out the crack pipe for proof. “I have a whole fucking lab right here in this double wide. I can have that shit on the streets by midnight.”
“Do you?” Lordax lifted an eye brow. “Well then, maybe I spoke too soon. A man with a laboratory in his trailer truly has a kingdom to call his own.”
“I make the best crack cocaine in the country,” Joseph Opus boasted prou
dly. “People come from miles around to sample my wares.”
Lordax nodded. “Things have certainly changed since you were a boy. The walls between us have become thin. I think the worlds are ready to merge for a final time. I need mankind to be ready for this.”
“I will make him ready,” Joseph nodded. “I can. I will.” His eyes narrowed on that vial. He had to have it.
“Then it is yours,” Lordax said and passed the vial over. Joseph held it reverently in his hands, like an ancient treasure. He looked at the way the blue sparkled in the light of the afternoon, as if the very sun itself had been captured.
“Thank you,” Joseph said.
“No. Thank you. But remember, this was all just a dream.” King Lordax stood up. He bowed slowly. “This was your idea, Joseph Opus. Do not fail me a second time.”
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