Lies of the Prophet

by Ike Hamill

  “You’ll help us?” asked Carol.

  “I have to,” said Jenko.

  “Excellent,” said Lynne.

  They followed his instructions and moved their two hostages and the cat to Jenko’s back room. He laid Melanie out on the bed and propped Donna up in a chair before pulling the tape from her mouth.

  “Swine,” said Donna.

  “Zip it,” said Jenko.

  “What’s with this one,” he waved to Melanie.

  “Don’t know,” said Lynne. “Donna took over her body at one point and tried to attack us. The rest of the time she’s been just like that.”

  “She’s gone then,” said Jenko. “Sorry, Carol.”

  “What do you mean, gone?” asked Carol.

  “I mean her animus is gone. Once Donna used her in that warehouse, she became just a shell,” said Jenko. “Whatever made up your sister has vanished. They don’t come back after that kind of transference. It’s like gutting a pumpkin. It won’t ever be a real pumpkin again, just a jack-o-lantern.”

  Carol sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up towards the ceiling. She put one hand on Melanie’s ankle and squeezed her temples with the other.

  “Sorry, Carol,” said Lynne.

  “What was she doing at the TV station?” Lynne asked Donna.

  “It might be satisfying to try to get answers,” said Jenko. “But you’re probably better off just snuffing her.”

  “What?” asked Carol. “We can’t do that.”

  “We sure as hell can,” said Jenko. “She’s not really human, and she means you harm. You guys think she has something to do with all this Gregory business? All the more reason. Just get rid of her and she won’t be a wildcard anymore.”

  “She might know where my real daughter is,” said Carol.

  “She’s burning in hell,” said Donna.

  “Why did I take this off?” asked Jenko. He pressed the tired piece of tape back over Donna’s mouth.

  “Carol’s got a point,” said Lynne. “Even if she’s not human, she still has information we need. Why was she setting up that portal? Who does she work for, or with? Oh, and she and the other little guy called me the flower and Carol the vessel. What does that mean?”

  “No idea,” said Jenko. “But here’s what we do: we kill that thing,” he pointed at Donna, “bury her out in the woods somewhere, and then we’ll have one less problem to think about. I assume you guys have some idea where she was working? Well we just go there and see who shows up to continue the work. If we keep her around, all we’ll get is false information, and we’ll always have the possibility that she’ll get loose or somehow get the upper hand.”

  “That makes a lot of sense,” Lynne said to Carol.

  “No,” said Carol. She stepped in front of the chair where Donna was sitting. “We’re not touching her while there’s a chance that she knows where my daughter is. Don said she’s alive, and everything else he said was true.”

  Behind her, the unnatural voice of the little girl interrupted—“Idiot! You have no daughter. You’re only the vessel. You fools have no way to even conceive of my power. My army will rise and make slaves of this race when you’ve been neutralized. You three have no power apart, and even then you won’t be able to stop us. Your feminine triptych is painted on ignorant ash.” She had worked her chin until the tape had fallen off.

  A crash from the back of the house drew Jenko’s attention. He left to see to the noise while Carol ignored it and dropped to her knees in front of Donna.

  “She lies,” said Lynne, putting a hand on Carol’s shoulder. “Don’t even listen to her.”

  “I don’t know what to believe. Honestly,” said Carol.

  “Just remember Don, right?” said Lynne.

  The two women turned towards the door where a scraping noise and heavy footfalls announced Jenko’s return. He backed through the door with his hands raised to about chest-level.

  “What are you… Oh,” said Lynne.

  Right behind Jenko, a sharpened stick came through the doorway. Carrying the stick came a big set of grungy hands. Attached to those was a dirty brute of a man.

  “We have company,” said Jenko, facing the man in the doorway, at the end of his spear. He glanced over his shoulder to Lynne and Carol and spoke out of the corner of his mouth—“It’s a Striker.”

  “Ha,” grunted Donna. Her voice was devoid of emotion. “Kill him,” she ordered.

  The man stabbed his spear forward with a grunt. The tip, sharp enough, caught Jenko just under his solar plexus and pushed between the buttons on his blue shirt. The dirty man bent his knees and angled his end of the long spear down before thrusting it back up and shoving it further into Jenko’s chest. Jenko’s hands went up and gripped the shaft. He tried to push away from the spear, but the brute came forward, lodging it deeper.

  Lynne gasped. Carol was unable to make a sound.

  As Jenko’s knees started to buckle, the dirty man pulled back and popped the spear from his chest, allowing him to collapse to the floor. The corners of Jenko’s mouth were pulled back too far. His eyes showed only surprise.

  “Now the vessel,” ordered Donna. “Keep the flower.”

  The man turned his gory spear, dripping with deep red blood, towards Lynne and Carol. Blood flicked from the tip, leaving a hot trail across the bed spread.

  Lynne stood roughly between Carol and the savage. She adjusted her position to block his advance. Lynne turned her body slightly and got her arms up in front of herself as the tip advanced.

  “Put it down,” said Lynne.

  “Or what?” asked Donna.

  Lynne shot a glance down at Jenko and then brought her focus back to the man. Jenko’s black bag was down there, next to his bleeding body, but it was on the other side of the man with the spear and she couldn’t get to it. The brute was fat and shirtless—he wore only ragged jeans. His fingernails were long and jagged, with deep groves down the lengths of them. Matted hair covered most of his face, and the rest was stained with caked-on mud. A twig, tangled in the man’s chest-hair, had a tiny green leaf budding from the end. Lynne’s eyes kept coming back to it, like it held some help. Behind Lynne, Carol pressed on her back. They had backed all the way to the wall—there was nowhere else to go.

  The spear caught up with Lynne and pressed against her neck.

  “Move,” said the dirty man.

  Lynne felt Carol shift behind her.

  “Don?” asked Carol.

  Lynne’s brain did a slow flip, trying to process the question.

  “Don, is that really you?” asked Carol. She pushed Lynne slightly to the side so she could get a better look.

  The dirty man started to speak and then cleared his throat—“Who did you expect?" He punctuated his sentence with a slight push of the spear. Lynne gagged a little.

  “Honey, it’s me. Don’t you know me? Don’t listen to what Donna says, you can fight her,” said Carol. “You’re under her spell or something.”

  “Ha,” Donna laughed. “You don’t know anything.”

  “Shut up,” said Lynne.

  “Don, snap out of it,” said Carol. “I’m right here, honey.”

  “I was never under her spell,” said Don. “She’s my daughter. You were just the vessel.”

  “But wait, she killed you. And you tried to help me,” said Carol. Her eyes bounced around the room—she couldn’t piece together the new information. Movement caught her restless eyes. Jenko was moving. Carol saw the flash just before he pulled the trigger. Don, reading her eyes, turned and saw the weapon as well, but it was too late. The electrodes were already jumping from Jenko’s grip to Don’s back.

  Current streaked down the taser’s probe and lit up Don’s body. He stiffened and went down with a jerking spasm. The spear clattered to the floor and Lynne picked it up. She vaulted over Don and lunged for Jenko’s bag, which was now open at Jenko’s side. Lynne thrust her hand inside his bag and pulled out a gun. She tossed it to Carol and returne
d to the bag to find another. When she couldn’t locate a second weapon, she turned to Jenko.

  Lynne didn’t hesitate—she pushed both hands to Jenko’s chest and weaved her fingers between the buttons to his wound. When she touched the bloody hole, her body went rigid, almost an imitation of Don.

  “If you move, I’m going to shoot you,” Carol said to Don, who had stopped convulsing and now just lay flat.

  “You won’t,” said Donna. “You haven’t the nerve.”

  “Shut the hell up,” said Carol. She held out the gun in both hands. Carol was mesmerized by the marks on Don’s back. She’d dated him and been married to him, but she’d never seen those marks before. They were nearly concentric circles just below his shoulder blades. The edge of each inner one crossed over the big one near the bottom. Although she didn’t recognize them, they seemed natural, like they’d always been there. She wondered if maybe she’d just always ignored them. She’d ignored quite a few things about Don while they’d been together. When she looked back to Lynne, what she saw almost made her drop the weapon.

  Lynne’s color had drained. Her head tilted back and her lips peeled back from her teeth. She looked like she was screaming silently at the ceiling. On the floor, Jenko was pink and serene.

  “Lynne?” said Carol. When she got no response, she raised her voice and tried again.

  “She’ll follow him into the river,” said Donna, nodding.

  “I’ve had it with you,” said Carol. She took one hand from the gun, peeled a fresh piece of tape from the roll, and stuck it on Donna’s face. Don began to stir.

  “Stay still, I’ve got a gun,” Carol informed Don. He was still face down. “LYNNE?” she yelled. Carol wanted to step over Don to see if she could help Lynne, but was afraid to get too close. His smell, powerful and offensive, was just starting to reach her nose. She surveyed the room. On the bed, her twin was still comatose. Her demon Changeling was bound and propped up in the chair. Her only allies, Lynne and Jenko, were locked in a death-grip across the room, likely seeing to their mutual destruction. And her dead-husband-turned-savage was regaining consciousness a few feet away from where she stood.

  She had to make a decision.

  “Okay Don,” she said. “In the corner. Right now.”

  “You won’t shoot me,” said Don. “Put down the gun." He raised his head and started to push up from the floor.

  Carol took a deep breath and aimed for his leg. She pulled the trigger and tore a chunk of flesh from the back of his thigh. He jerked to the side with the pain and she saw the rough hole the bullet had torn in the hardwood floor. The shot rang in her ears so loud that it was several seconds before she heard Don’s screaming.

  “GET IN THE CORNER,” she commanded.

  “I can’t,” sobbed Don. “You shot me in the leg.”

  “The next one goes in your gut,” said Carol. “MOVE.”

  Don, grunting and blubbering, dragged himself to the corner of the bed and down the length of it, towards the open door. He left a wide slick of blood as he moved.

  “Stay away from that spear,” she said as he passed Lynne. “And close that door when you get to it. I’m not kidding.”

  He followed orders and pulled himself into the far corner of the room. His hands were pressed to either side of his leg, trying to staunch the flow with both hands.

  Carol crossed to Lynne, stepping over the bloody trail. She pulled alongside Lynne and Jenko and put out her foot. When she made contact with Lynne’s shoulder, she shoved. She should have been able to easily tip Lynne over, but Lynne’s hands were stuck to Jenko. Carol had to try twice more to tear Lynne free.

  Lynne fell on her back and screamed. She held her hands up towards the ceiling and screamed at them. She took a deep breath and screamed again, her voice tearing from the exertion.

  “Lynne? LYNNE? Are you okay?” Carol said, trying to be heard over Lynne’s screams.

  Carol shot a look out the window. Across a small patch of yard she saw the window of the neighbor’s house.

  Lynne’s cries settled into a steady moan.

  Carol nudged Jenko with her foot. As soon as Lynne’s touch had left his chest, the rosy color faded from his cheeks. He looked peaceful, but inanimate, like a clever mannequin.

  “I,” Lynne gasped. “I can’t move my hands." She still held them up in front of her face. Tears were gushing down her cheeks. “It hurts.”

  “Is he dead?” asked Carol.

  “I think so,” said Lynne. “What happened to him?” said Lynne, catching sight of Don in the corner.

  “I shot him,” said Carol. “I had to. But he’s behaving now.”

  “Good thing,” said Lynne.

  “He’s going to be okay, right?” asked Carol.

  Lynne raised her eyebrows and got to her feet slowly. She looked down at Jenko and wiped her face with the back of her arm.

  “Alright, this is what we’re going to do,” said Lynne. “We’ve got to get the hell out of here and wipe down everything we’ve touched.”

  “Fingerprints? You’re worried about what we’ve touched? They’ve got DNA and forensics. There must be a thousand ways we could be connected to this scene. We should just call the cops ourselves—we didn’t do anything wrong. We can explain the whole thing,” argued Carol.

  “You think kidnapping a baby, shooting a homeless guy, and tying up a comatose sister aren’t considered suspicious? Best thing we can do is disconnect ourselves from this mess,” said Lynne.

  Carol pulled Lynne close and spoke into her ear—“I still think these two might know something about where my real daughter is. Maybe the cops can help us get that out of them,” she whispered.

  “Yeah, okay,” said Lynne. She glanced around and settled on the spear. Lynne picked it up and got within spear’s length of Don, still huddled in the corner. “Hey, Don,” said Lynne. She poked him hard with the sharp end. When he didn’t react, she pressed the end of the spear into his thigh where Don still covered the oozing wounds. “Don?”

  “Fuck,” said Don. “What?”

  “What you said earlier—was that true?” asked Lynne. Carol moved up to her side.

  “What?” asked Don.

  Lynne poked him again.

  “Said about what?” asked Don.

  “About Donna and Carol’s real daughter,” said Lynne.

  “She is,” said Don. “Get a DNA test. You were talking about DNA earlier—why don’t you just do that?”

  “People don’t do DNA tests on mothers and daughters,” said Lynne. “Usually the maternity is undisputed.”

  “They do it to prove the mother in welfare cases,” said Don. He sucked in a painful breath and grimaced. “Why would I lie? Can you call an ambulance or something? Maybe find me some pain pills?”

  “Deal with it,” said Lynne. She turned to Carol—“He’s got a point. There are pretty definitive ways of proving if she’s your real daughter.”

  “She’s not, and he lies about everything. He pretended to be dead for two years,” said Carol. “I’m not taking his word for anything.”

  “So shoot him again,” said Lynne. “He’ll tell the truth if he’s in enough pain.”

  “Good point,” said Carol. She held the gun out at arm’s length and aimed it at Don’s knee. “Cover your ears,” she said to Lynne.

  “No, wait, wait!” pleaded Don. “I’ll tell you anything. I won’t lie, I swear.”

  “How did you possess Billy?” asked Carol.

  “I’m a Striker,” said Don. “We can do that kind of shit.”

  “Why did you tell me to go to the island then?” asked Carol.

  “She was supposed to convince you into walking into the water. She said it couldn’t fail,” he waved towards Donna and then quickly returned his hand to put pressure on his thigh.

  “What about the glow-in-the-dark trail to the other island?” asked Carol.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Don.

  Lynne jabbed t
he back of his hand with the spear. The point wasn’t sharp enough to draw blood, but it pressed his hand into the wound and made Don moan.

  “Shoot him if he refuses to answer again,” Lynne said to Carol.

  “Way ahead of you,” said Lynne.

  “Stop,” said Don. “I answered. I just don’t know. The only plan was to lure you into the water.”

  “What’s this vessel and flower stuff?” asked Lynne.

  “She’s the Vessel,” Don shot a glance at Carol. “She’s the one we picked to carry the girl—Donna. You’re the Flower. When we bring in a Package, it always creates a Flower and a Storm. The bigger the Package, the bigger the Flower. She can’t be killed you know, not by mortal hands. You could try, but you’ll only destroy yourselves. She’ll be your queen.”

  “Is he talking about you?” Carol asked Lynne.

  “No, her,” said Lynne. She nodded over her shoulder at the chair where Donna was still bound and gagged.

  “She doesn’t seem very powerful,” said Carol. “You’re telling me that you were playing me for all these years? Somehow you managed to convince me that you were just a schmo and you were actually planning on using me to be the vessel the whole time? I don’t buy it.”

  “That’s why it worked,” said Don.

  Muffled by the closed door, from the front of the house, they heard a pounding on the door. After two bangs, there was a pause, followed by another three.

  “Open the door, Don,” said Lynne. Carol tapped her lightly on the shoulder and motioned with her eyes to the window. Across the side yard in the window of the neighboring house, Lynne caught a glimpse of what Carol was pointing out: a woman ducked to the side.

  Don pulled opened the door and pressed himself between it and the wall. Lynne moved quickly through and crept towards the front door. She paused when she heard more banging. To the right of the door, someone had their hands cupped against the front window, trying to see through the curtains. She couldn’t see much of the person, except the dark shirt and a badge near the figure’s breast pocket. Lynne backed away slowly, fearing her movement would draw attention. Carol was still in the center of the room when she returned. Lynne motioned her to the hall.