Acquaro

by Trevor R. Fairbanks

  “Damn it,” Leonard Samson spit and turned his back on them, taking a few paces in his frustration. When he walked, shock waves rumbled from his feet, shattering anything still standing. The rains continued until the people were washed away, screaming into the sea.

  Why was he always running into problems? he asked himself. And what if this other God was more powerful than he? They already told him he had been around forever, and Leonard was still new to this game. Did he have it in him to defeat a God who was ancient?

  There was only one way to find out. It was a trick he had learned back in his human days when he used to gamble. He would bull his way through this problem. He would play to win.

  “I demand to meet this God,” he turned and ordered, his voice shaking the sky. “Bring him to me!” He would meet him and defeat him in unholy battle. Then these people would have no choice but to bow down and worship him.

  “Oh, you do not want to meet our God,” the little stick-carrier said and even smirked a little. Leonard Samson felt his omnipotent blood boil at the small insolence. “Trust me, you do not want to meet Dakuwaqa.”

  “Daku what-wa?” Leonard asked. Surely no God with a stupid name like that could harm him. “Bring him to me!”

  The villager shrugged and started to pray. One by one the others followed suit, all falling to their knees in song. Leonard watched as they all turned to the sea, casting their voices out like a great sonic net. Then the oceans started to churn. Something was coming.

  Leonard stepped out onto the shore. Whatever it was, it was big. Larger than any storm. And strong. He could feel that strength coming towards him like a hurricane.

  A black fin broke the surface and now Leonard was wondering if maybe he had made a mistake.

  The people gathered on the cliffs so that they could watch what was happening. They started to cheer as their shark God Dakuwaqa stepped out of the ocean. For this battle, the shark God had taken on a human aspect, albeit giant and twisted by his own wrath. Arms and legs sprouted from his torso, but his head was still that of a shark, with row upon row of menacing teeth set in a maw that could swallow the world whole. The people knew that he would not forsake them. The people knew that Dakuwaqa would do anything to win. And Leonard Samson suddenly felt very human.

  What was he doing? This God was going to fight him to the death!

  He began to sweat. It fell in great stinky pearl droplets down onto the people below. Some of them brandished makeshift umbrellas. Others drank the god-sweat, trying to get some of that power inside them. They burned from the inside out, as if they had just ingested poison.

  Dakuwaqa growled in a voice as deep as the darkest ocean. It was a challenge, a confrontation. The sound of it made Leonard Samson flinch, but he did not turn away. Instead his fists curled up in anticipation, ready to fight. If he started running now he would always be running. He wanted this island. He wanted these people. And if he had to fight this overgrown shark-monstrosity to get it he would. This was ambition.

  “Ugly stinking fish,” he grunted through clenched teeth. “I will take this island from you, worm. I hope you enjoyed them because your days of worship are at an end, bottom-feeder.”

  Dakuwaqa growled again. Dead black eyes looked this man up and down. He was nothing compared to the shark-god, just a man. A giant man, but only a man.

  “I will have shark fin soup for dinner tonight!”

  Dakuwaqa shuddered. He could not remember the last time he had been challenged directly. Leonard Samson was already making the first move in this massive game of chess.

  His hand shot up, palm spread out like a tarot reader, launching five bursts of lightning, one from each fingertip.

  Dakuwaqa caught the blow hard and the smell of smoldering shark flesh caressed the island. He fell back into the seas that had spawned him, casting up a tidal wave that washed the people remaining off shore. Those inland ran for their lives, but also shouted for more. This was the most exciting thing the people of the island had ever seen. Imagine, a war between Gods, happening right on their little patch of paradise.

  They had their hometown favorite, and the prayers of the desperate reached Dakuwaqa’s ears, forcing him to stand with a new strength and face off against this errant intruder. He shook his tail and a monsoon spread across the island, catching Leonard hard and driving him backwards. The mountain tripped him, and his giant body fell, kicking up a shower of dust and hard stone.

  Rock and water fell on the people in a cataclysmic shower, many of whom had just been blown about by the tempest and did not have the sense to duck. People were crushed, killed, and their bodies swept out to sea.

  Dakuwaqa pressed his advantage, lumbering onto land and lurching forward with a shrill scream, slamming his foot down onto Leonard Samson’s stomach. The new god groaned and clutched at the wound. It hurt, but he still had the strength to drive a fist upwards, right between Dakuwaqa’s legs. His curled fingers found the anatomy of a shark there, much larger than a man’s and much more painful.

  The shark god lurched back into the ocean, howling in agony. Tidal waves rose from his body like ripples, smashing into shore and bringing whatever humans remained back into the sea. The people prayed. Those prayers gave Dakuwaqa the strength to rise, water drooling off his black skin. Only Leonard was up as well. With heavy giant strides that shook the planet to its core, Leonard threw himself into the water with all his heart. They met in the shallows like titans, both Leonard’s hands grappling for Dakuwaqa’s barrel throat and desperately trying to find purchase. The shark god snapped, trying to take Leonard’s head off in a single bite.

  Leonard let go, tumbling backwards. The shark god howled with challenge.

  Leonard looked at the beast, wondering how he would ever defeat this monstrosity. He was a God now, he told himself. Leonard Samson was gone, as good as dead.

  So, he took on another form.

  The villagers watched as his body began to melt like candle wax and flow. Dakuwaqa took a step back, trying to shield his eyes. Leonard felt his arms break and re-form. He felt his back twist and broaden. He felt his feet curl and harden until they became hooves. And he felt the horns sprout from his head.

  Leonard Samson was no more. There was only the Bull God.

  Dakuwaqa roared and moved in. But the new god was quicker and managed to get under the shark. With a single mighty heave, he impaled the tube- shaped body on his horns. The Bull God lifted him and hurled him onto dry land again. Dakuwaqa rolled and people died. He could still hear prayers, but they were weakened. Then they were gone for good.

  The shark god sputtered weakly in and tried to stand on broken legs. But it was no use. The god was made for the sea. He would never find victory on land.

  Again, the villagers started to pray. But it was too late. The island was destroyed. One by one they were silenced. There were no prayers left and no one to say them.

  The bull god snorted and looked at the wounded body of the shark god, already starting to reek in the sun. Dakuwaqa lifted his head only to see the final charge. The bull god lowered his horns and he skewered the shark through. And the shark god was dead.

  With a final shrug, the bull god tossed the carcass off into the ocean and stood proudly. He bellowed at the sun, the sun that now belonged to him. The people that now belonged to him. They would do anything for him, they had no choice. They would worship. They would bring him tribute. Virgins would be offered up for sacrifice and he would drink blood from their skulls.

  Only they were gone. The bull god was surrounded by nothing but dead bodies. Dead bodies and the mountain that had suddenly become a very dark and dismal place. The bull snorted and found himself a nice cave. All he wanted to do was curl up and sleep for an eternity.

  The Shadows

  “I have to get back to Hector soon,” Lila said. “We were going to go take some pictures today.”

  A bad sensation traveled up his spine. Having a young daughter, especially one as beautiful as Lila, was a curse
. Oftentimes he wondered what mortal sin he had commit in a past life to deserve this. It was impossible not to notice the eyes, always roving over her body. It was impossible not to feel the tension every time she walked in a room. And he had seen these things in the newcomer, young Hector. He had seen them and felt them and wondered at the secrets she was exposing to him.

  But at the same time, she was his daughter. He loved her and hoped that the newcomer did, too. If not, he had been known to do other things besides take pictures.

  “You’ve taken quite the shine to that boy,” Mr. Torne smiled. They were together in a dark room erected behind the trailer, washing the slim prints through various toxins and agents. The emulsion took hold, bringing the image up from the page. It was an activity they regularly did together, part of the father/daughter bonding experience. It was here, in this dark room, where he felt he knew her best.

  There was a rush as he pulled the picture from the agent, holding it up. Slowly the film developed, and she leaned in closely to look. They were excited at what they might see.

  They fell silent.

  Gently he lifted the completed photograph and hung it to dry on the clothesline running the length of the room. They stepped back and took a second look at the shadow. Neither had seen anything like it before.

  “I can feel it,” he whispered with a dim smile. “Can you? We are getting closer to infinity. Every picture I take is like a reflection, a ripple in a staring pool. Soon we will have a series of mirrors showing us the sights. The more shadows I have the more the hidden map is revealed. There are passageways and I go deeper. I can feel my mind opening.”

  “But look,” Lila said, pointing at the picture. It was of the tree that stood in the center of The Copacabana trailer park. The same tree they had seen a thousand times before. The same tree they had photographed a thousand times before, always from different angles. But if one looked closer ...

  “What the Hell is that?”

  A scattering of red eyes burned from the edges of the photograph. They appeared to be little men, staring into the camera, the flash shining off their faces. Mr. Torne had taken this picture himself. There had been no one around. But here were these tiny people looking into the camera. Tiny people with eyes that glowed like cats, or demons.

  “What are they?”

  Mr. Torne took another look. Recollections from his childhood bubbled to the surface. He could remember spending days laying on the carpet, looking through old picture books. He could remember drawings in comics and paintings in Old English novels. He could remember fairy tales. What he was looking at now was a fairy tale.

  “I think they’re elves.”

  “I can see the ears,” she said, pointing. “Look! They’re turned upwards.”

  “And the noses ...”

  Quickly he turned and went to the other picture still in the tray. It was of the bridge that ran over the wash and there, huddled beneath, were shadows with hunched backs and hideous limbs. Shadows that smiled grotesquely into the camera. He could see them smiling with dirty teeth, and fingers shoved up nostrils. He could see these creatures lurking in the muck, haunting the living.

  “They’re ...”

  “Trolls,” Lila said, remembering Hector’s story. “Those are fucking trolls!”

  Mr. Torne ran a hand over his mouth, deep in thought. What were they looking at? What was happening? Lately the trailer park had become weird, ever since Hector had shown up. There was the explosion and the graffiti and those weird kids and Leonard Samson disappearing.

  Lila was taking the pictures down.

  “What are you doing? Those aren’t dry yet!”

  Lila didn’t care. “I have to show these to Hector.”

  The Killing

  “Boys?”

  The trailer was silent. Miss Felony shut the door behind her and walked inside. The television was turned off. Because the television was wrecked.

  The entire trailer was in a state of complete disarray. Books had been torn down from the shelves, their pages ripped and flung from end to end until the living room resembled a war zone. She moved through the trailer, coming to the kitchen. Food had been spilled on the linoleum, everything spoiled and bad. A feast fit for rats, nothing more.

  “Boys!” she shouted but there was no answer. She went to the bedroom. Someone had shit all over her pillow. Urine stained her sheets. The smell was overwhelming, pungent and fresh.

  Miss Felony sighed and sat down. She slipped her face into her hands and started to weep, asking herself over and over what she had done. All she wanted was for the boys to be men.

  Now she realized that her definition of manhood was very narrow. Her definition of manhood was disgusting and awful. It sank into her, all the men she had known. Disgusting, every one of them. And she had tried to mold those two innocent children into their likeness.

  She looked around the bedroom. It was a nightmare, damaged beyond all repair. And her children, her lovely little Jamie and that scamp Roderick, were gone.

  She prayed that the world would be nicer to them then it was to her.

  ***

  “Fuck this shit,” Roderick said and spit to emphasize his point. The phlegm hit the pavement with a wet slap. There was a lot of it, and it sat like a greasy blob on the black tarmac, looking up at the world with dull snot covered eyes.

  “Yeah. This place is fucking dead,” Jamie agreed with a sympathetic nod.

  “We need the drug,” Orjure whined. “I want the drug!” She was starting to remember the universe and her place in it. She was starting to remember Omnithax. This was not a memory she wanted. All she wanted was to forget. The drug would help her with that.

  Ringworm looked away from them and sighed. The four sat in the wash basin behind the leper colony, watching streams of filthy water shoot from the metal drainage pipe into the brackish river that flowed through Varmint Ranch like a liquid spine. The stench was unbearable, all rotten semen and decayed flesh, and yet they did not move. It was a skill Miss Felony had taught them. How to become accustomed to disgusting smells. It would help them when they had to start eating pussy and ass.

  The thought of her suddenly made Jamie home sick. At least the trailer was warm, and even though it stank, it did not stink this bad. “I think I want to go back,” Jamie whimpered. “Back to Miss Felony. Do you ...”

  Roderick slapped him across the cheek, hard. There was a snap as his head jerked away and when it came back, it came back red. Right across the jaw his fingernails had scraped, leaving crimson lines that throbbed with every beat of his heart.

  “What the fuck did you say?”

  “I just thought that maybe we should go back.,” Jamie sniffled. “Apologize to Miss Felony and ...”

  “Oh, do you miss her?” Roderick demanded, towering over the smaller boy. He sneered. He insulted. He jabbed. “Is that it, Jamie? Do you miss her books and all that porn? All that shit? Do you miss what she used to put us through?”

  “No, it’s just that ...”

  “Then shut the fuck up,” he said and turned away. “I’m trying to think. We need more drugs.”

  “We have drugs.”

  The voices were small and filled with white tones like tiny bells ringing. The three looked up at the scattered bushes that circled the top of the river basin. Bright pinpricks of light danced up, circling them like happy fireflies. They looked like stars that had fallen from the azure sky.

  Only these stars had human form. They glowed, like little people burning, with long gelatinous wings that sprouted from their shoulder blades and hummed in mid-flight. Tiny eyes looked at them. Tiny mouths giggled at a joke only they could hear. The buzzing of their wings filled the night.

  “You have drugs?” Roderick asked them, and they circled in close so that he could hear. “You have the blue ...”

  “Elf drugs. Yes.” The leader swooped in and smiled, hovering close to his nose. So close Roderick could smell it, like burning ozone. “And you need them,” the tiny c
reature whimpered. “Oh, how you need them. I can see the addiction in you. Humans,” it shook its head. “So susceptible. Someone has been giving you the blue.”

  “Yes. The blue.” Roderick’s eyes narrowed and crossed as he tried to meet the fairies gaze. “Can you give us the drug?”

  “Of course, we can. All you have to do is believe,” the fairy said with a giggle. It sounded like bubbles breaking against porcelain.

  “I believe!” Jamie said, loud enough to shake the entire town. Buildings vibrated in the distance. If he had the drugs he could forget Miss Felony and all her torments.