by Guy Adams
“I imagine the odds of us stumbling upon him are slim,” said her father, “though we owe it to him to try. If we can find someone in authority we can ask where the chosen were taken.”
“What an English answer,” joked his daughter.
“Yes, ‘if all else fails ask a policeman’. Still, it’s all we can do.”
Billy had lit the firebox, building up the pressure in the boiler. Once the gauge began to rise he called the others onboard and they moved out.
5.
BILLY COULDN’T HELP but grind his teeth as they drew close to the edge of town. Judging the width of the street ahead, they had several feet of clearance on either side and there were no obstructions. The last time he had been this close, however, they had been rattling at an almost uncontrollable speed staring death in the face.
Forset was in the cabin with him and he patted the engineer on the shoulder. “Just take her in as slow as we can,” he said, “to be on the safe side.”
“Damn right,” Billy replied, taking her forward at a crawl.
The nose of the engine pierced the skin of Wormwood, what had once been an impenetrable barrier now a slick bubble that stretched and parted as they forced their way through.
On the other side of the barrier, the nose of the engine appeared as if out of nowhere, sending the gathered residents into a panic as they jumped clear, running onto the boardwalk or into the stores.
“What machines these mortals make,” announced one, an ancient demon which prided itself on the fact that it had sharpened its claws during the halcyon days of Torquemada’s Spanish Inquisition. It could barely flex those bamboo-like fingers these days, but sometimes it would tap a long, yellow nail against its sole remaining tooth and dream.
“It’s as loud as it is ugly,” announced another, flipping up its feet so the mouths on the souls of its feet could spit out their dust and join in the conversation.
“Horrid,” said Left.
“Abominable,” concurred Right.
In the Land Carriage, Billy and Forset were still unaware of the effect they were causing, inching themselves through the barrier. It was only as its surface passed over their heads, stretching momentarily at their faces with a tickle of static electricity, that they saw the street ahead as it actually was.
The Dominion of Circles had already expanded into Wormwood, mingling with the mortals from the outside, both groups eyeing each other warily.
The stores were opening for business, the saloons were pouring liquor and one enterprising young Incubus had already laid claim to the hotel that lay at the centre of main street.
“If there’s one thing people will always need,” it said, scratching at its permanently erect groin, “it’s beds.”
A family from Canada who had made the journey south to brush close to the celestial were sat on the boardwalk and watching the infernal parade.
“I like it here,” said the son, working his way through a bag of nuts so spicy they made him fear for his tongue, “the people are funny.”
“That they are,” his mother agreed, casting a surreptitious, admiring glance towards the Incubus.
“Well,” said the father, “I can’t say it’s what I had in mind but they don’t seem interested in doing harm.”
And this was the truth. Despite the caution evident on both sides, nobody raised a hand towards one another, curiosity won out over aggression. In Wormwood at least, it seemed the mortal and the mythical could co-exist just fine.
“What a place,” said Forset, his eyes wide and his mouth agape.
Billy could only nod as he pulled the engine all the way through, casting a glance behind to see how much further they had to go.
A group of children—at least Forset assumed they were children, given their size and exuberance—came running up to the engine and began climbing up it. They were spindly looking, their arms and legs flesh but jointed like those of an insect. Their bodies were smooth and as purple as a bruise, segmented and plump. Their faces were round and fat, cherubic if not for the cat-like whiskers that sprouted from beneath their stubby noses.
“Careful!” he shouted as one leaped onto the smoke box. “That’s hot!”
The creature stuck its face into the plumes of smoke and then turned to the others to show off its sooty grin. They all laughed, taking it in turns to repeat the trick. Soon the front of the engine was covered with soot-covered creatures laughing and choking in equal measure.
“They like your machine.” Forset followed the woman’s voice to find the children’s mother. She had the same basic physique but leaner, the fat spread out over an adult body, her face thinner and more refined. She walked along next to the Land Carriage, stopping as Billy applied the brakes, the rear carriage having finally cleared the barrier.
“It’s impressive,” he replied, feeling foolish saying such a thing when surrounded by such sights.
“It’s loud and smelly,” she said, “that sort of thing appeals to the young.”
“Right, yes.” He realised she was not being as complimentary as he assumed.
“We had no idea the town was so populated,” said Forset, fairly spinning around, trying to take in as much as he could.
“Well,” the woman said, “it would have been a waste to leave it empty after the barrier fell, wouldn’t it?”
“But that was less than a day ago.”
“Time moves differently between here and your mortal world,” she explained. “That’s half the reason I haven’t visited it as yet. I could come back to find my babies all grown.”
“So,” said Billy, “even though we’ve only been here a few minutes, hours could have passed back there?” He gestured back towards the barrier.
“Or days,” she shrugged. “I imagine as time goes on they will synchronise. As the Dominions merge fully with the mortal world. I’m no expert mind you, what do I know?”
She clapped her hands, calling for her children’s attention.
“Come come!” she called and they all jumped from the Land Carriage and followed their mother away into the crowds.
“It’s unbelievable,” said Elisabeth, she and William walking up to the engine to join Billy and her father. “Such creatures.”
“I think,” said a gruff voice behind them, “the term you’re looking for is ‘people’.”
She turned around to find herself face to face with a man who appeared to have a good deal of the canine in him. He stood upright but was covered in long, greying hair. Great tufts of it were escaping from the sleeves and collar of his jacket and the cuffs of his trousers. His mouth, though not quite a snout, certainly protruded further than would be normal and she could see he had fangs rather than teeth.
“Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
“Sweet cheeks,” he replied, “I’d listen to any old shit if it was coming out of a mouth as pretty as yours. For the sake of the peace though, I’ll have to ask you to mind your tongue.” He pointed to the large sheriff’s badge on the lapel of his jacket. “The name’s Biter and I’m the law around here.”
6.
FORSET WAS BY no means sure how he felt about a dog in a suit flirting with his daughter. He came to the conclusion that he needed to let go of his old morals and sense of propriety. After all, such things were a product of one’s social rules and social rules fluctuated from one country to another. If there was one thing he could say with some certainty, breaching the barrier into Wormwood they had travelled much further in real terms than the scant few feet they had actually crossed. They were now in Shakespeare’s ‘undiscovered country’ and it was only logical that they would do things differently here.
Besides, if he argued, there was no guarantee the creature wouldn’t just bite his head off.
“I’m making it my business,” said Biter, “to welcome as many of the newcomers here as I can. This is a new world we’re stood on.” Forset couldn’t help but note the creature was mirroring his own thoughts. “And it’s my
job to make sure people know the rules we all need to follow to make sure it ain’t drowning in blood and guts before it’s got through its first week.”
“Sounds fair enough,” said Billy, hopping down from the engine and moving to stand next to Elisabeth.
Biter noticed the man’s defensiveness. “Oh,” he said, with a grin, “the lady’s already got herself a man. Fair enough.” He gave her a wink. “Can’t blame an old dog for taking a sniff.”
“Sniff away,” she replied with a smile. Billy smiled too, because she hadn’t contradicted Biter’s assumption that they were a couple.
Biter chuckled with a sound like a cat trying to shift a hairball.
“Leave your machine there,” he said, “nobody’s going to steal it.”
“Are you sure?” Forset asked, looking around.
“Sure I’m sure. That’s the second of our rules. No stealing other people’s stuff.”
“What’s the first?”
“No killing,” Biter replied, before raising his voice and pointing to a creature leaning back against the wall of one of the stores, its body a mass of reptilian skin, several tentacles bursting from its voluminous gut and tapping on the ground in what appeared to be impatience. “However frigging hungry you are!”
He turned back to Forset’s party and rolled his eyes as if they would understand the ludicrousness of his predicament. “Walk this way, folks,” he said, “we’ll soon see you settled.”
“Well,” said Forset, “to be perfectly honest, we weren’t planning on staying. We didn’t think there was really anything here.”
“Nothing here? We’ve got ourselves a thriving little town!” Biter reached out and grabbed someone who had been running past. It was a boy of about fifteen, and Biter lifted him off the ground with no apparent effort. “Problem, kid?”
“There’s a thing in the general store,” the kid said breathlessly, “its stomach burst open and all these worms... purple and gold...”
“Oh,” said Biter, setting him back down, “sounds like one of the Annelides giving birth. No big deal. I mean, Abernathy will be mopping up after that son of a bitch for a week but they ain’t going to do no harm. Get a thicker skin, kid! You can’t have a hissy fit every time you see something new!”
The boy nodded but his face was still terrified as he turned and ran away.
“You mortals freak easily,” said Biter with a laugh. “You’d think you came from a world where there was only one species.”
“In all fairness,” said Forset, “and correct me if I’m wrong, but you do all come from Hell?”
“The Dominion of Circles,” Biter agreed, “yeah. So what?”
“Well, traditionally your role has been to torture human souls, has it not?”
“You’ve got a lot to learn, boy,” Biter replied. “I ain’t saying everything from the Dominion is sweet as sugar but it’s never been our ‘role’ to do anything. We ain’t your slaves your know.”
“That wasn’t quite what I meant.”
“Oh, I know what you meant but we’ve got more important things to do than poke your sorry asses with toasting forks and shit. What you kinky sons of bitches like is your own business, we’re not judging you, but we’re not being blamed for it either.”
“So mortal souls aren’t sent to Hell,” Elisabeth corrected herself, “the Dominion of Circles, for punishment?”
“Nah... nobody’s soul is sent anywhere, you can go where you like. The fact most of you chose the Dominion of Circles says a lot about you as a species. Why you can’t just live a simple life I don’t know. Do what you do and accept responsibility, it ain’t difficult, it’s how most of us get by after all. But no, you have to look to a higher power to judge everything from your poetry to your bowel movements. If nothing else, all of this is going to change that.” He waved around his head. “Now we’re all on a level playing field, you’ll just have to accept your own natures, won’t you?”
“I’m not sure it’s our natures that will be the problem,” said Elisabeth, watching as an obese, feathered woman vomited into the upturned mouths of her squawking young.
“Sure,” said Biter, “feel superior, then go and squirt milk at them from your titties.”
Forset grimaced at his crude tone but had to concede his point. “You are right that we shouldn’t judge. It is a failing of man.”
“We believe ourselves refined,” said William, “but we just keep our horrors on the inside.”
“That’s the last place you should put something unpleasant,” said Biter. “Bury something rancid and it’ll only slowly start to smell worse.”
They looked either side of them at the stores and the people. The people, in return, stared right back. Everyone is strange to somebody.
The stores seemed designed to appeal to a market none of the party could ever imagine having existed. Windows filled with everything from string puppets to dried flowers, doll’s house furniture to leather goods that didn’t look designed to fit a horse.
William looked through the open doorway of the barber’s shop, watching for a moment as the bony creature inside dragged its razor-blade fingers over its customer’s cheek. In a sudden chatter of movement, its off-white teeth chewed at the man’s hair, sending great flurries of it into a cloud around their heads. As it settled, William was forced to admit the creature had left its client with a perfectly respectable short back and sides.
The client wasn’t happy though, dabbing at his ear. “You fucking bit me!”
“Never did,” the skeletal barber insisted. “I am the definition of professional. Show me blood or pay in full.”
William chose not to linger to see the result of the argument.
“Herbs for life?” an elderly woman asked Elisabeth, proffering a bunch of dried leaves. “Herbs for death? Herbs for sin? I sell all the herbs.”
“No thank you,” Elisabeth replied, “though I’m sure they’re lovely.”
“Everything from the bedroom to the mortuary my dear, you just stop by when you know what you want.”
“We should call in at the general store,” said Biter, waving the old woman aside. “Just to make sure the Annelide isn’t causing problems.”
He crossed the road and Forset looked to their left, where the street opened out into a small square dominated by a large house. It was an intimidating construction in the mid-Atlantic colonial style. It loomed over the square which was empty but for a carved wooden statue of a Native American that stood in its centre.
“That’s charming,” Forset said, walking towards it.
“Charming?” Biter changed direction and led Forset over to the statue. “That’s my damned deputy. Say hello, Branches.”
The statue remained silent, for all the world a solid piece of wood. It possessed a deputy’s badge, hammered into its chest like a piece of absurd decoration. Forset looked to his daughter who had joined them.
“Damn it, Branches,” shouted Biter, “stop making me look like an idiot. Say hello to the folks.”
Still, it refused to move.
“Screw you then, you stiff,” Biter said, smacking it on its chest.
He turned around and marched back in the direction they’d been walking in in the first place. “He’s kind of quiet,” he said, “doesn’t really move unless we have some kind of emergency.”
Billy raised an eyebrow as the Forsets passed but they kept quiet, not wishing to offend their guide. William was staring towards the general store which had begun to gather quite a crowd.
“You just can’t beat fresh Annelides young,” said one of the bystanders. At least William assumed he was a single individual, it was difficult to tell as he seemed to be built from several inert human bodies, a profusion of spare limbs and dull, inanimate heads sprouting from all over his body. “Come on!” the creature shouted towards the store, “some of us have got a lot of mouths to feed.” He looked back at William and chuckled at his own joke. “It’s not true,” he said, as if William had asked. “I
shove food in one of these puppies and there’s no saying where it’ll turn up. Trust me, you haven’t experienced discomfort until you’ve forced your appendix to try and digest steak.”
William couldn’t think of a single thing to say, so he just smiled and hoped he appeared sufficiently in agreement not to risk being eaten.
“Come on folks,” said Biter, “there’s nothing to see here, get about your business damn it or I’ll be forced to start roughing some of you up.”
“You think you can take all us of on, you mutt?” came a shout from the crowd.
Biter snarled. “Sure I do. Then I’ll have a nice chat with the governor about how deep to bury your sorry asses.”
“The governor?” Forset asked, not wanting to distract Biter from the crowd but too intrigued to keep silent.
“Sure,” said Biter, “he’s the one who lives in the big house you were just looking at.” He raised his voice so others could hear clearly. “He’s the one who gave me my damned badge too, which some of you would do well to remember, sorry sons of bitches.”
He stepped inside the general store, followed by Forset’s party.
“Mind your feet,” Biter warned.
“Mind their feet?” came an aged voice, “who gives a cup of warm milk and rat turd about their feet? It’s my stock I’m worried about.” A tiny man appeared from behind one of the shelves, three foot tall and looking as old as a twenty-years-in-the-earth corpse. He was holding a mop that was longer than him.
“Ben Abernathy,” said Biter, “store owner and misery.”
“Misery? I’m as merry as Christmas when my shop ain’t drowning in worm guts.”
“Oh Lord.” Elisabeth had cleared the edge of a row of shelves and now found herself face to face with the Annelide. It was a fat worm, coiled into a pyramid about four feet high, its skin ridged and glistening with mucus. Its tail, poking out at the top of the pyramid, had parted like a flower revealing a slick orifice that was in the process of pumping out miniature, coiled versions of itself. The offspring came in sacs filled with gobbets of purple and gold goo. As the sacs hit the floor they popped, uncoiling the baby worm and splattering the goo liberally. A good portion of the store was now slick and wriggling.
