by Fritz Leiber
Elizabeth pondered that a moment. “Let’s see food, cold, maybe a kitchen?”
“Where does one typically find a refrigerator, Ms. Wellington?”
“Inside the home.”
“Exactly! I find it very interesting that these children have chosen to link a symbol of evil with the ideal of the modern home.” Dr. Sloniker smiled, lips thin. “I think that provides keen insight to their thought process and an educated councilor might use that insight as a lever to help them break the cycle of homelessness.”
Elizabeth frowned. “But Dr. Sloniker, I’m not certain that these symbols would translate everywhere. While this is a fascinating case study for my thesis, this is just a local phenomenon.”
He showed more teeth than normal. He stood, strutted around his desk, plucked a yellow folder from his shelf, and handed it to her. She opened it gingerly as if it might bite. There were dozens of drawings, obviously done by children with crayons, of a battle between a blue lady and a skeletal African American man with a hoodie.
“I have some good news on that front. I was very excited about your findings and mentioned them at a dinner party last weekend. To my surprise, my wife’s cousin—she runs a shelter in Portland—knew about the mythos. He sent me scanned copies via email. Look familiar?”
“These look like pictures of the Blue Lady and Mr. Bang. But that would mean these stories have spread from Seattle to Portland at least. Is that possible?”
“These stories seem to be popping up all over the place. A colleague of mine in Miami has identified a symbol on a wall that sounds remarkably like this Mr. Bang character. He’s sending an intern to take pictures of it.” He put his hand on her shoulder and massaged it gently. “It’s possible that you have stumbled onto something huge, Ms. Wellington.”
It was difficult to breathe. She concentrated on the drawings. “I was just lucky, Doctor Slonkier.”
“Luck is merely knowing what to do with opportunity, Liz. Thankfully, I have the resources to help you a great deal in this situation.”
Elizabeth bit her lip. She avoided looking him in the eyes. “How so, Dr. Sloniker?”
“I’ve assigned three undergrads to work on our project with you. They will start collating the date from other universities. You will need to write a short prospectus to familiarize them what elements to look for.” Dr. Sloniker patted the small of her back. “I’m looking into grant funding and so far it looks very promising.”
“Grant funding? Isn’t this going too fast?” Elizabeth protested. And why had he used the term “our project”?
Dr. Sloniker leaned close. She could feel his stale breath on her cheek. “We have to act now before someone else publishes about our find. This would make both of our careers, Liz. We have to seize the opportunity.”
Elizabeth stood quickly, wrapped her arms around her backpack as though it were a totem. “I haven’t been able to document any additional stories, Dr. Sloniker. Ever since that night, that voice, the children avoid me. Ruthie won’t even look me in the eyes.”
He shook his head, smiling. “Ms. Wellington, I’ve played the recording dozens of time and haven’t heard the voice you are taking about. Is it possible you dreamed it?”
“No. I was awake, I’m certain of it. I just need more time, Dr. Slonkier. I feel rushed.”
He nodded paternally. “Maybe I can help you. What’s troubling you?”
Elizabeth had read many of Dr. Sloniker’s published papers while an undergraduate. He was one of the reasons she had gone against her father’s wishes and moved to Seattle for grad school. She had been unprepared for how youthful he appeared. He was an attractive, brilliant man, and she had been quite disappointed when she had learned that he was married. He had never shown any interest in her until now, but it felt uneasy to her.
“I’m having a hard time breaking the code, so to speak. Finding the moral center of the stories. There’s something we’re missing because we’re not on the inside. If we don’t take the time now, we could be caught with our pants down.”
Dr. Sloniker removed his hand and sat back at his desk intrigued. “Please explain, Liz.”
Elizabeth sighed. She had given this quite a bit of thought and wanted to show off for her advisor and she was suddenly very glad that he was on the other side of the desk. “The Blue Lady feels right, feels familiar. Take a dash of the Lady of the Lake and add in a generous helping of Virgin Mary. These kids tell their stories like they’re preparing for a war.”
Dr. Sloniker scratched his chin. “Don’t forget the Blue Fairy from Pinocchio. Water is a metaphorical source for purity. The ocean has always been a symbol for source of spirituality. There’s a paper that theorizes that such symbols are a leftover instinct from our ancestors that lived in the water before we evolved. Very interesting that these kids would pick up on it.”
Elizabeth said, “It’s more than that. I don’t know how, but it’s like they’ve discovered something old.”
Doctor Sloniker scoffed. “Certainly, we can see elements of it in older mythologies. It’s a unique amalgamation of things the kids hear or see in the movies. It’s like an x-ray directly into their brain. We can see how being homeless effects their sense of identity, their fears, their dreams. Do you think you could get some of these kids to talk to you about it?”
She considered that carefully. “Well, the children do seem to like me. But there’s some sort of taboo about telling adults about the Blue Lady. It’s on the second tape.”
“I recall, but if you could get even one of them to talk. You’d have everything you need.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Can you come to my house for dinner this evening?” Dr. Sloniker asked.
“Will Mrs. Sloniker be there?” Elizabeth asked, hopefully.
“Sadly, she is visiting her mother so I’d appreciate the company.”
“I have a lot of work to do if I am to write that prospectus, Dr. Sloniker,” Elizabeth protested.
“Of course, I look forward to seeing your work.”
* * * *
Elizabeth took two extra shifts the following week at the shelter. Ruthie was gone. Her mother, in a strange stupor, had checked her out of the shelter. Something about Ruthie intrigued Elizabeth. A little girl in a largely hopeless situation, she seemed filled with dignity and possibility. Elizabeth envied her strength.
When the other children thought Elizabeth couldn’t hear them, they whispered about demons taking over Ruthie’s mother.
* * * *
That night, Elizabeth checked her equipment and then lay down on the adult cot near the door. When the children finally believed she was sleeping, they pulled out their flashlights and huddled together.
“You hear about what happened to Ruthie?” Andy asked.
“I hear Mr. Bang sent a demon inside her mom and then lured them out and killed her,” one of the scared voices replied.
Lisa sniffed, suppressing tears. “Where’s Ruthie?”
“I heard she has a foster momma now,” Andy said, as if wishing for a happy ending for their friend.
“That must be nice. The Blue Lady took care of her.”
The others murmured in agreement. It was very much like the beatification of a Saint, Elizabeth decided. How long until Ruthie passed into legend and became a patron saint of these lost children?
“Why can’t the rich people see Mr. Bang and Satan?” another voice asked.
“Satan blinds them. They want to help, but they forget with their doings. And when they cause too much trouble, he sends Mr. Bang. They need us to be poor to feed from us,” Andy explained, much like Ruthie would have. Interesting that he had absorbed much of Ruthie’s previous authority.
“Why doesn’t God fight them off?” Lisa asked, sounding horrified.
“A couple of years ago, Mr. Bang and the demons invaded Heaven in a drive-by. God had a palace of beautiful blue-moon marble. They didn’t kill him, but they hurt him so God had to hide. Most of the angels died.”
The children whispered in astonishment.
“That when the Blue Lady came to lead the Angels. They’re fighting the hordes until God gets better and comes back. But the demons feed on us. On hate, on greedy people, and bangers.”
“I heard more and more demons keep coming. Can’t we stop them?” Lisa asked.
“The doors keep opening,” Laney said, in a hushed voice. “Old fridgerators that people leave ouside. Broken mirrors that have seen someone die. Places littered with rusted old needles.”
“We have to be strong. Things will get better, if we believe,” Jessica added.
“That’s right,” Andy said soothingly. “Fear is the thing the demons love the most. Just don’t be afraid. The Blue Lady will protect us.”
There was silence and then a collective gasp of awe. Though the blanket covered her eyes, Elizabeth was certain someone was shining a bright blue light upon her. Did they know she was listening to them? The light brightened in intensity and power. Slowly, she eased the blanket down.
An ethereal blue light bathed the orom. It was as though the ocean had been transformed into a spotlight shining straight into her soul. Within the light, a tall, feminine silhouette touched several of the children upon their heads as though blessing them.
She blinked. The light had vanished. By the time her eyes adjusted, the children lay in bed, pretending to sleep in the darkness.
* * * *
Elizabeth was too terrified to sleep the rest of the night. She spent her time watching the children, who seemed to either be sleeping peacefully or not so secretly sneaking peeks at her.
Previously, the kids had ignored her as much as possible. She was just another liberal, white adult who couldn’t see what was real. The next morning, though, all the children in the shelter began referring to her as Ms. Wellington. They spent as much time in her presence as possible.
Could it have been real? Or did she dream the whole thing?
She had been very tired, and listening to the children talk about the Blue Lady might have suggested the vision to her subconscious.
But what if she hadn’t dreamed it? What if the Blue Lady really existed? Could there also be a Mr. Bang?
She had to confront the matter directly.
As soon as her shift ended, she returned to her dorm room and began to research. She had already searched the net for references to the Blue Lady and Mr. Bang. This time, she decided to expand the search using parameters like “Seattle,” “occult,” and “magic.” She expected one or two hits at most, but the sheer volume amazed her. There were references to schools, jewelry, a bookstore, and even a news article from the Seattle Times about a local detective saving a child from a cult in Renton. How had she missed it all?
She found a listing for a pagan bookstore on Capital Hill. Although it was Sunday, it was open and just a short bus ride away.
* * * *
Twenty minutes later, she pushed through the door into Source of the Spring Books. Bells jingled and the smell of lavender surrounded her.
She had imagined Vincent Price standing on a velvet carpet with a pentagram and a goat’s head. Instead, the store was like a yuppie craft store. In the far end of the store was equipment for making candles of varying scents. Artwork featuring religious symbols from across the world decorated the walls. There were self-help books, medicinal books about healthy eating, and women’s spirituality. Near the cash register stood twin display cases showing daggers, runes, and tarot cards. Her father would have screamed at her just for being here.
“Can I help you?” the thin man behind the cash register asked.
“I’m just browsing,” Elizabeth replied. What should she say—or even look for?
“Is this your first time?” he asked. He smiled freely and that endeared him to her.
Elizabeth smiled back and blushed just a little. “Is it that obvious?”
He laughed. It wasn’t a mocking laugh; it was a laugh almost designed to share life. “Nothing wrong with that. My name is Daniel. I own this place. Can I show you around?”
Her father certainly wouldn’t have approved of Daniel. He was too thin, his brown hair was too long, and he was too short. She shook his hand and noted that it was soft and warm.
“Well, I’m not really sure what I’m looking for…”
“Well, why don’t we start at the beginning? What church did you grow up in?” Daniel asked.
“Latter Day Saints,” Elizabeth replied, suddenly finding her shoes very interesting.
“OK, so you see a lot things around here that make you a little nervous. That’s ok. It’s ok to be nervous. What are you interested in?”
Elizabeth didn’t want to lie to Daniel, but she also didn’t want to admit that she might have seen the Blue Lady. “I’m writing a story and I’m looking for background information. Could a group of people or kids make something happen because they believe it enough?”
Daniel thought about it for a moment. “Well sure. Or at least tons of people believe that to be the case. Snake handlers believe that. People that believe if their faith is strong enough that the snakes won’t harm them. Many different religions around the world are based on that conceit. Hell, there’s a famous local homeless guy that swears he fell in love with a goddess.”
“What about creating a spirit or something unique?”
“It sounds like you are talking about a tupla,” Daniel nodded slowly. “It’s a Tibetan concept. The idea is that you can create an entity entirely by your imagination. Kind of like a character in a novel, except you don’t write tulpas down.”
“Are they dangerous?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Some stories have them being dangerous creatures that try to trick you out of your life-force. Others have them as protectors of children. When you start researching different beliefs, you find so many contradicting answers that really in the end all you can do is ask yourself what sounds true.”
* * * *
Elizabeth knew what she had to do. She bused across town to the shelter and frantically searched for the children. Some of them were playing basketball in the parking lot. It was a warm spring day and Andy and Laney were sitting on a bench whispering to each other. They stopped once they saw her.
“Hello, Ms. Wellington.”
Elizabeth brushed her hair out of her face and knelt beside them. “I need to talk to you two. About what I saw.”
“Saw what?” Andy asked.
“The Blue Lady,” Elizabeth replied. “I think I saw her.”
Laney gasped. Andy looked like he might cry.
“You didn’t see anything, Ms. Wellington. It was just a dream, see?”
The wind cooled and gained strength. Elizabeth’s hair jostled. Doves cooed and took flight. “There shouldn’t be doves around here.”
“He’s here,” Laney cried, pointing behind her.
Elizabeth spun on her heels to look where the little girl was pointing. A tall, lanky black man strutted across the pavement. The wind blew his trench coat like he was a superhero preparing for a fight. He peered over his dark glasses revealing his milky white eyes. His large hood covered most of his head and seemed immune to the wind. He smiled; his front gold tooth gleamed with power. “You shouldn’t be here, Elizabeth.”
The other kids, except Andy and Laney ran. Elizabeth felt her knees buckle. “You aren’t real. You aren’t a demon. Just something these kids made up!”
Mr. Bang laughed. “It don’t matter what I am. Demon? Man? Figment of their imagination? What matters is power. Power to do what you want. Power to get what’s yours. I get min
e. These kids are mine.”
“No, they belong only to themselves.”
“You don’t even belong to yourself, Elizabeth. Frightened little girl. Afraid to disappoint Daddy after Momma died. Letting him touch you. Letting anyone touch you. Never fighting back.” He extended his long bony fingers to caress her cheek.
Andy shoved himself between Mr. Bang and Elizabeth. “Leave her alone! She doesn’t understand!”
Laney cried a name, a holy name. Mr. Bang regarded her with amusement. “The Blue Lady can’t help her. The fight left her a long time ago. She is now nothing but a walking shell.”
Elizabeth was too frightened to move. “Please don’t.”
Mr. Bang forced her to look into his eyes. “You’ve made me powerful, woman. That pleases me. Surrender unto me and I shall let you live.”
“Don’t do it, Ms. Wellington! Don’t give in!”
“Elizabeth, I need you.” Mr. Bang spoke in her father’s voice. “Come with me.”
“No! I won’t! I won’t!” Elizabeth shook her head, fighting tears. She pounded her fists upon Mr. Bang. “You can kill me, but you can’t have me.”
Mr. Bang shook his head in disbelief and raised a hand. “It could have been magic, Elizabeth.” He pointed a long, boney finger at Elizabeth and whispered, “Bang!”
She dropped dead instantly; her heart shattered.
* * * *
“Tell us again about Elizabeth and the Blue Lady,” a little girl named Sara asked.
“Elizabeth was a white woman that was going to school to learn to help people. Help children like us. She believed, and so the Blue Lady tried to help her. She could hear the secret stories, but couldn’t hear her true name.” Andy gazed across the huddled mass of children. “When she was a little girl, her Daddy told her stories and hurt her. He was possessed by a demon. She believed in Mr. Bang in her heart, and he killed her because she feared. But she told the secret stories to others. The rich people don’t believe, not yet. But their kids will one day. They’ll know the secret stories of the Blue Lady, and then the war will be over.”
