Planet Purgatory

by Martin, Benedict

  “Hey! Dad! Where are you going with those bottles?”

  My dad stopped to give me a big old grin. “I’m bringing them to Bill.”

  “So you know his name now, huh?”

  “Of course. You think I’m going to let someone stay here and not know his name?”

  “Oh, I see. So you’re letting him stay here, are you?”

  “I don’t have time for this,” he said, starting up the road.

  “Yeah, well, those are my bottles you got there,” I said, planting myself in his path.

  “Stored in my trailer. Besides, it won’t kill you to give him a few. Lord knows how many you’ve got stashed on the farm.”

  “Forget it, Dad! He’s not having them!”

  It’s not easy wrestling glass bottles of anything off of someone, especially when they’re as determined as my father. Three of them ended up smashing on the ground, leaving the two of us glaring at each other, a bottle of chikka gripped in either hand.

  “Why do you have to be such an ass?” huffed my dad. “Don’t you get it? This isn’t just a gift! It’s a reminder!”

  “A reminder of what?”

  “A reminder that the Eno family has something no one else does! Something he wants!”

  “So you’re using something I not only made, but risked my life growing the beets for, to slither into his good graces?”

  “He asked for it by name! He wanted the Eno brew! That right there shows you how important we are. A steady supply of this and there’s no way he’d do anything to you, me, or Mummy!”

  I felt like throwing a bottle at his face. “You’re a coward!” I shouted, to which my dad merely shook his head and continued up the road.

  I was livid, but I wasn’t going to let emotion get in the way of figuring out what was to come next. And so I made my way to my parents’ trailer, where my mother was busy sweeping in front of the entrance. Her face lit up the instant she saw me, and she motioned for me to sit at the picnic table while she put on the kettle.

  “Have you eaten anything?” she asked, bringing a freshly baked loaf of bread to the table.

  It didn’t matter what my answer was. I could have said yes and she would still have made me eat something. So I obediently waited while she put together one of her famous chicken sandwiches.

  “You naughty boy,” she said, placing the sandwich and a steaming mug of tea in front of me. That was her way of apologizing, and after making me kiss her on the cheek, I started thinking about my options. Did I leave now, or did I wait? The truth was, I was frightened. I’d never left the safety of Harkness, and even with Rosie traveling alongside me, the thought of walking that road filled me with butterflies.

  “What’s the matter, Davey? Why aren’t you eating?”

  I forced myself to take a bite of my sandwich, washing it down with some tea. “What do you think of this Bill?” I eventually asked.

  My mother frowned, scrunching up her face like it was an old rubber mask. “I don’t like him,” she answered.

  “Really?”

  “Something bad about him. Something nasty. I don’t understand why Daddy is so interested in his business.”

  As simple as she appeared, my mother could be surprisingly sharp, especially when it came to assessing character. A person wouldn’t have to say anything, and within a few moments she’d have them figured out, and more often than not, she was right on the money. It was actually unnerving, and it often led me to wonder if she had some sixth sense about her.

  Her dislike for the old man made me feel better, and I finished my sandwich in silence, tossing the remaining crusts to Rosie.

  It wasn’t much later that my father appeared. He didn’t like me being there, but he sat down anyway, calling for Mummy to put on the kettle.

  “So, did Bill like his gift?” I asked.

  “What do you care?”

  “You know you’re a weasel, right? Because only a weasel would try to ingratiate himself with someone who’s got a monster like that in his wagon.”

  “Monster?” repeated my mother. “What monster?”

  “He’s exaggerating. You know how his imagination gets.”

  “I saw it with my own eyes! He’s got a monster in there. A demon! And not one of those little fellas you see in the trees, but a real demon!”

  My dad’s mouth rose in a smirk. “Oh, so it’s a demon, now?”

  “You should have seen it, Mummy! The thing was pure evil!”

  “Now you’re just making stuff up.” My dad was visibly irritated, and he pulled out a cigarette while my mother brought him a mug for his tea.

  “I trust my Davey on this one,” she said. “And even if he is wrong, there’s something about that man I just don’t like.”

  “Well, it’s too late now. Everything’s been finalized.”

  I stared at my dad in disbelief. “How is that even possible? There wasn’t even a vote!”

  “Didn’t need one.”

  “Didn’t need one? Since when did we—?”

  I couldn’t even get the words out of my mouth when the ground began to shake from the thud of giant footsteps. I glanced up, and sure enough, there was the alien mothership, floating ghostlike against the orangey sky.

  There were aliens everywhere, and they lumbered through the settlement, readying their cannons as the people of Harkness scurried to find places to hide.

  Why are there so many?

  And that’s when I heard it, a howl that made my hair stand on end. It came from the direction of the old man and his wagon. Grabbing my gun, I leapt behind my parents’ trailer, Rosie beside me. Even the aliens seemed surprised, and they turned as one as a figure from Hell came galloping down the road.

  It was the demon from the wagon. Like an enormous rabid baboon, it barreled into the closest alien, ripping the armored colossus’s arm from its socket before biting off its head with a savagery I didn’t think was possible. It reveled in its violence, screaming and baring its canines as it tore into victim after victim.

  The alien giants were helpless. They tried shooting it with their cannons, but all that did was enrage it further, igniting its emerald eyes. And the noises it made — a constant stream of screeching and braying that crescendoed after every kill. By the time it was finished, my ears were left ringing like after a few rounds of firing my gun.

  It was terrifying, and even after the fiend disappeared back up the road, I remained in my hiding place, arms wrapped tightly around Rosie’s neck until enough time had passed that I cautiously stepped out to survey the carnage. The aliens, those seemingly invincible giants from the sky, were dead, their limbs strewn across the settlement like broken branches after a deadly storm.

  Others emerged, and it wasn’t long before the air was filled with the hushed tones of folks who didn’t quite believe their eyes. But those whispers were replaced by excited chatter, even clapping, and I soon found myself surrounded by a celebration, with people hooting and hollering like they’d just witnessed their team win a championship ballgame.

  Don’t they know what this means?

  My lamentation was interrupted by a hand on my shoulder. It was my dad. He could barely contain himself he was so happy.

  “I told you Bill would come through!”

  “Yeah, but at what cost?”

  His face darkened, but only for a moment, and then he went to speak to a pair of men, sending them off in the direction of the warehouse before joining the jubilant throng as they made their way to the old man’s wagon.

  For a moment I thought of remaining behind, but a morbid curiosity pushed that aside, and so grabbing my knapsack along with my gun, I followed them, purposefully keeping my distance, in case my dad thought I’d changed my mind.

  The old man sat hunched on his wagon bench, the ever-present cigarillo jutting from his mouth. The crowd fanned around the front of the wagon, with my dad taking his place of importance at the old coot’s feet.

  “My God, Bill! It worked! Your plan really
worked!”

  The old man looked down at my dad and smiled. “Told ya. My friend’s highly effective.”

  My dad gave an uncomfortable laugh. “Effective’s an understatement. But he’s, uh, he’s locked in there, right? He can’t get out now, can he?”

  “Oh, my friend can leave whenever he wants. Ain’t no lock gonna hold him. But don’t you fret. He likes his wagon. And as long you fine people keep yer end of the bargain, there ain’t no reason fer him to leave it.”

  You could feel the anxiety ripple through the crowd.

  “Heh, heh. Don’t worry, Bill. You’ll be getting what you asked for. In fact, I was just abou—”

  My dad’s words were cut short by the shouts of two men sprinting up the road. They were the same ones he’d talked to earlier, and they forced their way through the crowd to whisper something into his ear. I knew exactly what they were telling him, and I’m ashamed to admit I watched with satisfaction as a look of shock washed over my father’s face.

  “You were sayin’?” said the old man.

  My dad did something kind of funny right then: he plunged both his hands into his pockets and started to walk away, only to spin around and return to the wagon’s foot board. “Uh, it appears we’ve run into a little problem.”

  “What kind of problem?”

  “Well, we had someone lined up for you, but it, uh, it appears someone shot him in the head.”

  The old man took his cigarillo between his thumb and middle finger and blew a cloud of smoke. “Well, that’s unfortunate. I guess yer going to find a replacement to go with the other one you owe us.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You heard me,” the old man rumbled. “In exchange for my friend’s services, yer to give us two of yer own.”

  A murmur rose from the crowd.

  “Now, hold on a second! We agreed on one person, and one person only!”

  Suddenly the wagon shifted, and the old man peered down at my dad with a most disturbing smile.

  “I don’t think yer in a position to be arguing, Mr. Eno.”

  “But you said—”

  “You have twenty-four hours. If you don’t give us two of yer own, there’ll be Hell to pay.”

  A panic set in, and within seconds the crowd dispersed, leaving only me and my dad. He didn’t see me at first, but when he did, he grabbed me roughly by the arm.

  “That was your handiwork, wasn’t it?” he demanded, once we were out of earshot.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

  “Don’t be a jackass! I know it was you! You’ve put all of us in danger with your stupid stunt!”

  “All I’ve done is open everyone’s eyes to the real threat! He wouldn’t have been happy with those zombies. And even if he was, it wouldn’t be long before he’s demanding something new.”

  “You don’t know that!”

  “He did it just now! You know I’m telling the truth. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

  My dad’s eyes widened in almost humorous surprise. “Stubborn? You’re calling me stubborn? There’s the pot calling the kettle black!”

  I watched with concern as my dad doubled over, placing his hands on his knees.

  “Oh, my God! We’re all gonna die!”

  “No, we’re not! I’ve still got my plan. I’m going to find the SYS building and I’m going to come back with guns.”

  “Enough to kill that thing? There’s not a gun anywhere powerful enough to protect us from that monster!”

  “You don’t know that! I mean, what if SYS makes rocket launchers? Or grenades. Or, hell, maybe they got some special laser gun we can use.”

  This actually made my dad laugh, and he placed his hands on his hips, walking in circles as he gazed into the sky. “Rocket launchers? Laser guns? Is that really how desperate this has become?”

  “I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s the only way.”

  My dad pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his face. “You really think you can find it?”

  “I’ve got no choice.”

  We looked at each other, searching for something to say, until my dad grabbed me, kissing me on the cheek before sending me on my way. “Be careful,” he said. “Try not to attract attention, but if you do, shoot them. Right in the face. And pay attention to Rosie. She’ll take care of you.”

  Suddenly I didn’t feel so sure about things.

  “Go on! We don’t have a lot of time. Go find Rosie and get the hell out of here. I’ll take care of Mummy. You just go.”

  So I did, downing a few swigs of chikka before making my way down the road to the old man’s wagon. I’d planned on ignoring him, but the old coot called out to me, and against my better judgment, I went to see what he wanted.

  “Got any brew in there?” he asked, motioning to my knapsack.

  “Yep.”

  “Care to give me some?”

  “Nope.”

  “That ain’t very friendly,” he said, frowning. “Here’s a piece of advice: when someone asks fer something, it’s usually best to give it to them.”

  I stood there, safe in my chikka haze.

  “And I got some advice for you,” I said.

  “And what’s that?”

  “Leave.”

  And with that I started up the road, with nothing but my knapsack, my gun, and my dog.

  Chapter 5

  Leaving Harkness was, without a doubt, the scariest thing I’d ever undertaken. There was a reason people avoided traveling between settlements, and when they did, it was always in groups. You’d hear the strangest stories, of creatures hiding in the shadows, waiting to feast on some unlucky soul. I spent the first little while peering into the jumble of trees while Rosie trotted a protective circle, disappearing into the brush behind me, only to emerge a few dozen yards up the road. I didn’t know that was what she was doing at first, and I’d call out for her with my gun drawn, certain my voice was drawing the wrong kind of attention.

  But I caught on to her protective ways, and I soon found myself predicting with surprising accuracy when she would reappear.

  It was about a half-hour into my journey that I came upon a hut. I’d heard about these. Apparently the forest was littered with them. Most were empty, but some of them were not. Curious, I left the road to peer through an old clouded window. As far as I could tell, there was no one home, and reassured by Rosie’s curiosity, I opened the door, only to be greeted by a scream.

  There was a lady in there, crouched on an old box spring mattress.

  “Who are you? What do you want?”

  I should have answered, but instead I found myself staring at the space before me. It was bizarre. Outside, the building appeared to be made up of discarded sheets of plywood and bits of lumber, yet inside, it was like stepping into someone’s bedroom. The walls were solid, like drywall, and painted a faded creamy purple, while a worn gray carpet was littered with old clothes.

  “Who are you?” she repeated.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just curious to see if anyone was inside.”

  I was still in shock at how “Earthlike” the place was, and without thinking, I entered, running my hand along the wall while Rosie introduced herself the only way Rosie can — by jumping on the bed and sniffing the cowering woman’s head, her stumpy tail wiggling at lightning speed. Rosie-dog liked her. The poor woman, though, was terrified, and I called Rosie back onto the floor while the woman remained rolled up in a ball.

  “She doesn’t mean any harm. She’s just being friendly.”

  The woman peeked out from beneath her arms, first at Rosie and then at my gun. “Who are you?”

  “My name’s David, and this is my dog, Rosie. I was curious about your hut. I really didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Hut? But this is my bedroom.”

  She looked so confused. Placing my knapsack on the floor, I reached into my shirt pocket and offered her a cigarette. “Do you smoke?”

  I’d
never seen anyone’s hands tremble so violently. It was so bad I had to light the cigarette for her, but the moment she took her first puff, she visibly relaxed, leaning against the wall while a plume of tobacco smoke rose to the ceiling.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  She was pretty. In fact, she reminded me of my first wife, with her brassy hair and full lips. So much so that when she told me her name was Jackie, I blinked.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Sorry, that was my wife’s name. You look a lot like her. It caught me by surprise.”

  “Was your wife’s name? Is she dead?”

  “No, just divorced,” I said, forcing a smile.

  I was never good at small talk, especially with the opposite sex, and I sat down on a folding chair while Jackie smoked her cigarette. She was new to this place, that much was obvious, and forgetting my shyness I began to probe, hoping to uncover the detail that would prove my theory about what this hellhole really was.

  “How long have you been here?” I asked.

  Jackie looked at me and slowly shook her head. “I don’t know …”

  “What’s the last thing you remember? Besides being in this room. What were you doing?”

  “I think I was driving home from work.”

  “Do you remember anything unusual happening?”

  “Unusual how?”

  “I don’t know, maybe an accident?”

  Jackie’s face darkened. “What are you getting at?”

  “Nothing. Just asking questions. What about a spaceship? Do you remember anything about signing up to be a colonist on a different planet?”

  “Is that what this is? I’m a colonist on a different planet?”

  There was a glimmer of hope in her eyes, and after mulling it over, I fed her the same lies I was working so desperately hard to disprove.

  “Yeah, that’s it. You’re a colonist. It’s a thirty-year journey to get here, and you’ve just emerged from suspended animation.”

  I felt like a cad lying to her, yet at the same time, she looked so relieved, even joyful, jumping to stand on her bed with so much energy she nearly fell onto the floor.

  “You mean I’m an astronaut? Wow, I never thought I’d do anything like that!”