Canopus and Keel - The Hive.

by Stephen Jarrett

  Keel shrugged, “We are currently running at a 75% Success rate. So, it’s possible.”

  Vince looked up at the Red-girl staring from his apartment window and then turned back to Canopus and Keel. His heart was steady and his hands were still. He smiled. “I don’t doubt either of you for a second. Yukon-ho!”

  TEN.

  Keel pressed her head against the car window, feeling the movement of the car vibrating through her skull.

  Vince was snoring loudly in the back of the car and Canopus was lost in thought and didn't want to be disturbed. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and held it tight in her chest. It helped her think. What was happening with the shrouds wasn’t right. Angels could create shrouds, she knew this, but they were independent parasites, feeding off their host’s life-force until their host expired, and then they had a short amount of time before they attached themselves to a new host. This is why they were attracted to large populations.

  True, a host like Ludvig may stay alive longer if they feed psychically off another person’s life-force, but it would never be enough and Ludvig’s fate would have resulted in his body slowly starving of energy. He was already doomed.

  She imagined what her Father would say, ‘You are justifying his death and the part you played, failing to once again remove a shroud from its host. Did I not teach you anything? Stick to the facts, don't’ get emotional’.

  Keel opened her eyes and looked through the window and the lights tracing past. As she squinted the lights elongated into long colorful worms. What really bothered her was that the shrouds were getting stronger, controlling the cops was evidence of that. She had never seen anything like that in her Father’s notes. Had Lillian Fox found a way to evolve the shrouds and made them work for her? Not had, she has! Keel remembered that once her Father had caught her praying in her room and grabbed her by the wrists, forcing her palms apart. “Never call an angel Carina. Promise me. Angels feed from sorrow and despair. It was why Angels always appear in times of pain.” He pleaded, looking into her eyes. “If you are hurting, you carry that hurt and do something about it. Never ask anyone to help you. Never show it. It makes your soul a beacon for monsters to feed on, and angels are the biggest monsters of them all.”

  Keel opened her eyes and looked at Canopus.

  “Lillian Fox has fallen and can’t access the sorrow from prayers anymore. That’s why she is evolving the shrouds, to feed her a human’s life-force.”

  Canopus grunted, “First sorrow, now life-force. Humans are just a ham sandwich to angels.”

  Keel snorted.

  “I don't see what’s so funny?” replied Canopus.

  “When you talk about food. It normally means you are hungry.”

  Canopus patted his stomach, “I guess you could be right. We can’t really save the world on an empty stomach. Next place we see, we stop. But maybe not for a ham sandwich.”

  Vince snored loudly in the back. He sounded like a pig.

  Canopus and Keel looked at each other and burst out laughing.

  ELEVEN.

  Canopus looked over at Keel who was fast asleep, head against the car window and mouth wide open. He smiled at the dribble running from the corner of her mouth. Reaching for his phone he took a quick photo. “One for the scrapbook,” he chuckled.

  “Delete that now or I will hex you,” muttered Keel opening one eye.

  Canopus deleted the photo.

  “Sometimes you are no fun.”

  Keel yawned and stretched the best she could in the car. “I was asleep for 15 minutes and 43 seconds, which means a deep sleep of two minutes exactly. I am now incredibly hungry.”

  “There’s a Hungry Happy Eater a few miles up here. Saw a sign about a mile back. Wanna wake sleeping beauty?”

  “Nah, I find the snoring soothing.” She stretched some more. “I can’t remember the last time I slept in an actual bed for a good eight hours.”

  “Baby, it’s the life on the road.”

  Keel scowled.

  “Remember, I outrank you. You can save the baby.”

  Canopus smiled. “Sorry Hun’. Aha, he we are.”

  The bright neon Hungry Happy Eater sign of two bears patting their bellies, glared from the side of the road. “Y’know, I’ve never understood that sign. It’s macabre. Bears eat people. And them tapping their stomachs like that and smiling, doesn't look inviting. Hell, we nearly got eaten by a bear a few months back.”

  “Well, technically it was an Onikuma, demon bear. Plus, Yogi bear and Boo-boo stole picnic baskets. They never ate Ranger Smith. I feel they are marketing to fans of cartoons. See how one is smaller than the other. It’s called nostalgia marketing.”

  Canopus yawned. “Uh-huh. Whatever you say Keel. Hey, Yogi bear and Boo-boo. Kinda like me and you.”

  “If you are referring to the big dopey one getting the cute little one always in trouble. I couldn't agree more. Pull over there, in case we have to get out quick.”

  “You’re expecting trouble,” asked Canopus.

  Keel pulled out her handgun and checked it was loaded. Satisfied, she tucked it back into her belt.

  “It’s 2am and we are stopping at an eatery called the Hungry Happy Eater in the middle of nowhere, whilst being pursued by the FBI, a witches’ coven and supernatural beings that may have possessed anyone we meet. Also, in case you have forgotten, we are on a mission to stop a fallen angel.”

  “Good point. Better order to go.”

  TWELVE.

  Startled, Vince awoke to the door of the car slamming shut. Looking out of the window, he saw Canopus and Keel walking away, Keel’s nose buried in her book, while Canopus was scanning the car park, ‘Like an old sheriff looking for Indians’, thought Vince yawning. Rubbing his eyes, he squinted at the neon sign, “Hungry Happy Eater.” He smacked his lips. Damn, he was hungry. Feeling the hairs on the back his neck tingle, Vince knew the Red-girl was about to talk into his ear, he tensed waiting to feel her lips pressed against his skin, the warmth of her breath, yet he knew if he looked back, there would be no-one there.

  “It’s past midnight Vince, a new day and three new answers await you,” whispered the Red-girl

  Vince sat in the car and thought hard about the first question.

  “Where is Debbie?”

  “She is still in limbo, Vinnie.”

  Same answer as always. “Is she ok?”

  “She is scared and confused as she wanders. She sees all the girls you have been with since she has been gone. So many Vince, so many. It saddens her. I could help her, but not until you help me. Last question Vince.”

  “Will you betray me? Are you truthful?”

  The car got very cold and frost formed on the windows.

  “I say the truth. You will see her again.”

  Vince breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Now find the raccoon. She will show you something specia.”

  “Where’s the raccoon?”

  “No more questions for today.”

  Vince sighed. He waited until Canopus and Keel entered the restaurant, counted to thirty and then opened the car door. He looked around the car park and counted ten cars, evenly spread around the large car park, ‘People just don't like people,’ he thought, ‘especially at night.’ The cold dark air pressed against his skin, so he turned up his jacket collar and stamped his feet. Spying the flickering image of the Red-girl by the far corner of the restaurant, Vince stuck his hands in his jean pockets and quickly walked towards her.

  He thought of his Debbie, of all the things he wanted to share with her but couldn't. He thought of the bruises on Debbie’s neck the last time he saw her. Debbie always hurt him, he loved her but she could say the meanest things to him. She didn't deserve what happened to her. It’s not his fault that he liked other women, he couldn’t help himself, it didn't mean that he loved her any less. No, she didn't deserve what happened to her but neither did the girls in Ludvig’s apartment.

  Arriving at the restaurant, Vince turne
d the corner, but the Red-girl was gone. He squinted in the darkness and touched the cold brick wall. In the far distance, something dark was moving. Vince swallowed, clenched his fingers into fists and slowly walked towards the shape.

  As he got closer, the shape turned into the shape of a girl, no older than twenty. She was leaning against a door, smoking a cigarette, staring up at the sky. Vince could see she was dressed in a Hungry Happy Eater Uniform. The girl turned to face him.

  “Want to smoke?” she asked.

  “Those things will kill you.”

  “What doesn’t cowboy?” Stamping out the cigarette she flicked her eyes and tilted her head as if she was listening to someone. Vince looked her up and down; she was cute, long fluffy blonde hair that was tied back into a side ponytail and large green eyes. Two small scars ran down the side of her cheeks but instead of damaging her looks, it elevated her cheekbones. Vince read her nametag, “Hall.” Stuck next to her name was a sticker of a smiling raccoon.

  Vince smiled, “I think I’m meant to meet you.”

  “Yes, you are, Vince. Yes, you are.” Hall flicked her tongue against her lips. “Heard a lot about you, some not so good, some damn-right gruesome! You’re younger than I thought, cuter.” She smiled. “C’mon follow me.”

  Hall held up a card pass against a reader in a wall and the door unlocked and slowly opened. Vince followed Hall inside.

  THIRTEEN.

  Julia lay on top of her bed and stared up at the ceiling, wondering if tonight would be the same as the last. She raised her right leg and studied the freshly scrubbed fat white sneaker that peaked into view at the end of her dark blue jeans; satisfied, she lowered her right leg and repeated the procedure with her left.

  Stretching her hands, she felt the switch behind her and turned off the soft light in her room, darkness came and she closed her eyes.

  Her stomach turned.

  What if it did happen again? She had heard of sleepwalking before but after researching today, during her measly fifteen minute lunch break, she hadn’t found any cases that matched what she had been going through. Sure, it wasn't that uncommon to sleep walk and it may explain why she was constantly tired, even when she woke after a good eight hours sleep, but could sleepwalking explain how she had unlocked the front door and actually drove her car? She shook her head. Did she really drive her car? She didn't remember doing that, but waking in the morning and seeing dried mud on her bare feet and seeing the same mud in her car would suggest otherwise. Where did it come from? It hadn’t rained that night.

  Her mind raced, searching for answers; did she have a brain tumor? Her grandfather died from a brain tumor that the doctors said was caused by an accident in WW2, where he had been knocked unconscious by a German tank. She scoffed at this. She knew there was no link between head trauma and tumors, but then that would mean brain tumors could be hereditary and then she was at risk. Could it explain the loss of time she sometimes felt?

  I should get Melissa to run a scan, she thought. If it happens again tonight, I promise I will do it. If her white sneakers had mud on them and her car’s mileage counter read more than 5043 miles, then she would get the test.

  Julia felt the effect of the sleeping tablets she took earlier.

  Closing her eyes, she willed sleep to come. In the morning, she would have the answers.

  FOURTEEN.

  “What are you hankering for?” asked Canopus, as he looked at the laminated, greasy menu with a frown. Keel poked the stains with a pencil. “Looks like most of the food is on the menu, literally, why not just lick that. You get what you want, I’ll take a black coffee and pick from yours.”

  “I thought you were incredibly hungry?”

  “I think I lost my appetite.”

  “Snob.”

  “Buffoon.”

  A tired waitress appeared with the nametag Lindsey. Next to the nametag was sticker of a bullfrog. Canopus smiled his best smile, “Hi darling, how are you doing?”

  The waitress smiled and chewed gum, “Well, that’s what I was going to ask you. What can I get a big strong man such as yourself? We just made a fresh pot.” She gestured behind her.

  “Coffee, black,” answered Keel looking at her cell phone.

  “Yeah make that two, but I like a little cream in my coffee,” winked Canopus. The waitress smiled, Keel shook her head and mumbled to herself.

  “Now, let’s see. I’ll take the ‘Hungry man.’”

  “How you want those eggs?”

  “Over medium”

  “Scrambled,” added Keel

  “OK, make it scrambled,” smiled Canopus.

  “Uh-huh, what toast? Wheat, white?”

  “Rye,” replied Keel not looking up, “he will have rye.”

  Canopus smiled, “And an extra plate for my colleague.

  “You want some ‘happy pancakes’, honey? I know that my colleague has just whipped up a new batch.”

  “Sure. Pancakes will be just fine.”

  Lindsey smiled and walked away. Canopus watched.

  “Called your wife recently?” asked Keel still looking at her cell phone.

  “Ha-ha, very funny. You have to flirt with the waitress, it’s like an old charter or something, makes the food taste better. What you got there? Checking Blue-dates?”

  Keel sighed and showed her phone, “Look at these missing people stats in Bonners Ferry. They are off the charts. Sixty missing people reports in the last six months.”

  Canopus rubbed his chin, “Yeah that’s a lot. Definitely reeks of something sinister. Huh, that’s interesting, Drexel.”

  “A Drexel? What’s a Drexel?” Keel reached for her grimoire.

  “A Drexel is a Sherriff. Sherriff Drexel, see?” Canopus tapped her phone. “I knew him back in the day, worked a few cases with your father with him. I guess he got a transfer to Bonners Ferry. He’s a good man, married a great woman. She cooked the best pancakes…”

  “What kind of cases?” interrupted Keel, eyes wide.

  “One was a Baku, a Japanese ghost -”

  “I know what a Baku is. What happened? I can’t see any mention of this case in my Father’s grimoire,” asked Keel, flicking through the pages.

  “Yeah. Some cases, y’know are so bad, you don't even want to write them down. The Baku was in an orphanage, sucking kids dreams, leaving them as hollow shells.” Canopus looked down at the table, “Not a good case at all.”

  “Well, I still say it’s irresponsible to not document it.”

  Keel looked up at Canopus, he had turned white. She chewed her lip, unsure what to say in these situations. “So, this Sheriff, knew my Father?”

  Canopus smiled, “Yeah, but Drexel was quite a character, not your Father’s personality type.”

  Keel snorted, “Not professional you mean.”

  “I would say unconventional. You’ll see.” Canopus flashed a large smile at Keel, his eyes sparkling. Keel held up her pencil, “I know that look, it means trouble, save it for the waitress.”

  Canopus turned and looked back at the kitchen, “Speaking of the waitress, where is she?

  “Probably putting some extra happy in those happy pancakes”.

  Canopus looked around the restaurant.

  “Weren’t there other customers here when we came in?”

  Keel didn’t need to look up from her grimoire, “Man in his forties, sitting with a woman in her fifties, dyed blond hair. Old couple, sixties, possibly married, he looked like he could handle himself, possible military - ”

  “Oh crap,” interrupted Canopus.

  “What?” asked Keel, closing her grimoire.

  Canopus pulled out his gun and pointed at Lindsey the waitress, who was slowly walking towards them, followed by the missing customers and a chef. Each was holding a long butcher knife.

  Keel pulled out her crystal and held it to her eyes, holding tightly to each of the bodies were large black, wriggling shrouds. Some had four arms, others had tentacles wrapped around the necks of the
ir hosts. Their wide mouths were whispering in their host’s ears.

  “Shrouds?” asked Canopus, “Or something else?”

  Keel nodded, “Shrouds. But different, these are black, larger, more evolved.” She withdrew a knife from her satchel and slid it across her palm, thick red drops of blood fell to the table. Using her finger and the blood now dripping from her clenched fist, she started to paint a symbol on the table.

  Keel grimaced through the pain, “This is going to take a while, try and slow them down, please.”

  Canopus nodded and fired two shots at the waitress’s left leg, the noise of the gunshots echoed loudly in the diner, ringing his ears to a high pitch wine. The waitress fell to the ground, knocking over the chef and a waiter. A large woman leapt over the waitress and started to run towards Canopus, while the chef jumped sideways and clung to the wall.

  “Holy shit! You see that Keel?”

  “Kind of busy right now!” In her blood, Keel was tracing a series of interlocking circles and archaic writing on the table. As she kept adding symbols, it grew hot around her fingers, small flames appeared in the cracks of the wood.

  The chef started to scurry on all fours across the side of the wall towards Keel, shoes and hands digging into the wall, with each step, crumbled plaster cracked and fell to the floor. Canopus looked at the large, dead eyed woman running towards him and then the old man scurrying and snarling towards Keel. Cursing under his breath, he swung his gun and pointed at the chef and squeezed the trigger, a large smoking hole appeared in center of the man’s head and he fell off the wall into a booth, out of view. The large woman smashed into Canopus, knocking him to the floor. She slowly turned and looked at Keel.

  Tracing the last symbol in place, Keel smashed her bloody palm into the sigil, which flared in energy. She looked up at the large woman. “Ignis!” Keel whispered.

  A shockwave blew out from the table, engulfing the large woman, and the other hosts, bursting them into flames and throwing them backwards, smashing their bodies into tables and walls. Keel lifted her hand from the glowing sigil, she felt weak. With a grunt, Canopus got up from the floor, “That broad should have played for the Rams.”