Planet Purgatory
Page 15
I didn’t know time could move so slowly. Every second was an hour, every heartbeat an eternity. And then it happened: the door opened, revealing the old woman, the Eggman looming menacingly behind her.
Flea was ecstatic. “They’re home!” she squealed.
What happened next was like something out of a movie. Before I even had a chance to react, Rosie charged up the steps straight at the Eggman.
“No!” I screamed.
But it didn’t matter. At this point I was merely an observer, and I watched in horror as the alabaster ogre swung his oversized meat cleaver at Rosie’s face. Goodness, he was fast. But Rosie was faster, and before he could connect she had him by the throat, sending him crashing to the floor while the cleaver slipped out of his hand and embedded itself in the door. I’d spent so much time building up the Eggman into an unstoppable force that I forgot why Rosie was referred to as the Beast of Harkness. By the time I made it up the stairs the Eggman was dead, his throat strewn over the floor.
Rosie, it seemed, wanted revenge even worse than I did, and me and Flea were reduced to watching while the Eggman’s face was ripped into an unrecognizable mess.
It was then that I happened to see the old lady lying on her back at the foot of the steps. She’d tripped trying to escape, and judging by the way her leg was jutting out from beneath her skirt, she must have snapped it in half.
I descended the stairs and knelt beside her. “Remember me?”
“M-my leg,” she panted.
“Looks like you broke it.”
The old woman grimaced, grabbing my hand. “H-help me …”
“Hurts, doesn’t it?”
Flea joined us, dropping onto her haunches to peer into the old woman’s face. “Is this the witch?”
“Help me,” repeated the old woman.
“You want help, do you? Well, it just so happens my friend here is a doctor.”
Flea looked at me. “I am?”
“Give her one of your pills.”
“What?”
“You know: your pills. The ones that look like little stones?”
“I don’t …” And then she understood, grinning as she produced an origami stone in her palm.
“This will make all the pain go away,” I said. And opening the witch’s jaw, I placed the stone in her mouth before closing it shut. “Don’t swallow it now,” I said, giving the old woman’s hand a final squeeze.
Together, me and Flea walked to the other side of the road.
“Any time you’re ready,” I said.
With a snap of the imp’s fingers, the witch’s head exploded.
Once the debris settled, I returned to the old woman and was surprised to discover the rest of the body completely untouched.
“Wow! Someone’s got a bit of a mean streak,” said the imp with a smirk.
“Well, it was either that, or shoot her. This seemed more poetic. She was the one who messed with my head, after all.”
I lit a cigarette, quietly taking in the image of the dead witch before returning up the steps into the cottage. The Eggman was a mess. There was no other way of putting it. It looked like a grizzly bear had gotten ahold of him, and I gingerly stepped over his denim-clad corpse to enter the living room.
It looked nothing like I remembered. It used to be a cozy little room, with nice furniture and wall hangings. Now it was empty. Even the carpet was gone.
“What’cha doing?” asked Flea.
“I don’t understand. There was furniture in here. And books. Shelves of them. And they’re all gone. It’s like it’s abandoned.”
“You broke their magic, David. You broke their spell.”
I approached the window, bootsteps echoing against the bare walls.
“What’s the matter? Why aren’t you smiling? I thought you’d be happy.”
“I don’t know, it just feels anticlimactic, you know? I spent all that time and energy building the Eggman and the witch into these unbeatable monsters. I really thought I was going to die. But in the end, I didn’t have to do anything, other than put a rock in an old woman’s mouth. Hell, blowing up pumpkins with fireworks is more dangerous than that.”
Flea folded her arms, regarding me with a sideways smile. “I know something that will cheer you up. Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
Taking me by the hand, Flea led me to a spot down the road.
“Do you think you can reach a window from here?” she asked, handing me one of her stones.
“I don’t know,” I said. “That’s pretty far.”
“I bet you can.”
“What happens if I miss?”
“Drop to the ground and pray you survive.”
I picked a window, feeling the weight of the rock in my hand. It would take a near perfect throw on my part, but if it worked, I got the feeling we were in store for something truly special.
“Come here, Rosie,” I said, pointing to a spot behind me. “Okay, here goes.”
Heart pounding, I reared back and launched the stone as hard as I could. I knew the moment it left my hand it was on target. The height, the speed, the arc: it was beautiful, and I held my breath as the origami bomb soared through the air and smashed the center of the glass.
1 … 2 … 3 … Boom!
If ever there was a perfect demolition of a demon-constructed cottage, this was it. First the roof jumped — literally jumped, as flames shot out of the chimney — and then the entire structure exploded, sending wood and stone everywhere. It was magnificent, and I was standing with my hands on my hips, savoring the destruction, when a rock the size of my head fell from the sky and embedded itself in the ground less than an inch away from the tip of my boot.
Flea and I turned to stare at each other, slack-jawed.
“I think I just crapped myself …”
“David, that just missed your head!”
“I know! I felt it pass my face!”
We stared at each other some more, and then, spontaneously, we jumped for joy.
“That was awesome!”
“I told you you’d enjoy it!”
“I’ve never experienced anything like that. The throw, the explosion, the rock. Oh my God, my heart’s still racing!”
I bent down, pulling the stone from the dirt. “I bet this was part of the chimney. I mean, look at this sucker. A couple more inches and I’m toast!”
“But you’re not,” said Flea, grinning. “There’s something special about you, David. This proves it.”
“I don’t know about special. Lucky’s more like it. Or dumb. Whatever it is, thanks, little coconut.” Unable to help myself, I grabbed Flea in a playful headlock and gave her a noogie. “Well, looks like our work here is done,” I said, collecting my bottles of chikka. “Now it’s time to take care of Bill.”
Chapter 13
Strangely, I wasn’t as worried about my showdown with Bill as I was with the Eggman. I was still frightened, but having a plan — a divine one, no less — left me feeling surprisingly … confident.
Even Flea noticed, the usually chatty imp quietly watching me from atop Rosie’s back as we traveled the road back to Harkness.
“So are you going to tell me what you’re going to do to get rid of Bill?” she asked as I stopped to light a cigarette.
“Nope. I told you. It’s a secret.”
“But you’re sure it will work?”
“It has to. The angel told me so.”
Flea narrowed her eyes. “The angel, huh. What did you say he looked like again?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer. My initial reaction was to continue with the whole “man made of light” spiel, but that didn’t seem fair. Not after everything Flea had done for me.
“He’s a whale,” I said, finally.
“A whale …”
“That’s right. He’s an enormous whale swimming in an ocean beneath my farm. Actually there’s lots of whales, but this one, the archangel, he’s the one
that gave me the plan. He’s the one that showed me how to free the settlement from Bill.”
I expected laughter. Instead I got a wry little smile.
“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
Flea shook her head. “Why would I? I bet angels come in all sorts of strange packages.” Her smile widened before erupting into an avalanche of giggles.
“I know I’ve been cross with you, and lord knows you make things difficult, but I want to thank you for all your help. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”
Flea’s giggling stopped, and she gazed at me with glistening eyes before leaping off Rosie’s back to give me a hug.
This time I hugged her back. She felt so tiny, so delicate. “You know what I’d like to do?” I asked. “I’d like to take you to an amusement park. You’d love that, I bet.”
Flea stepped back, alien eyes beaming. “That’s roller coasters, right?”
“Yep. And Ferris wheels, and all sorts of crazy contraptions designed to make you lose your lunch. It’s a shame we’ll never get the chance.”
“And what makes you say that?”
“Do I really need to answer that?” I asked, referring to the woods surrounding us.
“Never say never, David.”
Her bubbly attitude was infectious, and I found myself smiling as I dropped my cigarette to the ground. “Guess it’s time to move,” I said.
But Flea shook her head. “This is as far as I go, I’m afraid.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s for your own protection.”
“What do you mean? Don’t you want to see Bill?”
“That’s just it,” said Flea. “I do. Badly.”
“So why don’t you come?”
“Because I’m afraid of what I might do. He’s such a delicious target, and if he reacts anything like he did the last time we met, you can kiss your settlement goodbye.”
“Wait. You’ve met him before?”
“A few times.” The imp dropped her gaze to the ground, grinning at the memories that were no doubt flashing through her head. “Yep, I think it’s pretty fair to say old Bill and his friend hate me.”
I was shocked. “What did you do to him?”
“It’s a secret,” answered the imp, smiling.
We stood there, looking at each other. “Come here,” I said, extending my arms.
This time Flea jumped up to my shoulders and planted a kiss on my cheek. “Be careful,” she said, hugging my neck.
“I will.”
She remained there for several seconds, before returning to the ground where she gave Rosie a hug and a kiss as well.
“I wish there was a way I could repay you for all that you’ve done for me.”
Flea smiled. “Oh, that time will come. Don’t you worry about that.”
“Not if the angel takes me home.”
“Maybe. But something tells me I’ll be seeing you again.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope not.”
Giving Rosie a final kiss on the top of her head, Flea scurried toward the trees, stopping briefly at the wood’s edge.
“You get that Bill good for me!”
And just like that, the imp — Flea, my angel — was gone.
Chapter 14
Rosie and I walked into Harkness a few hours later. I’d only been gone a few days, but the place seemed transformed. It wasn’t so much the buildings or the trailers that had changed, but the atmosphere. It was like a blanket of darkness had been draped over everything. I could feel it from the road, and as I saw Bill’s armored wagon silhouetted against what could only be described as a raging pillar of flame, my confidence wilted. I’d never seen fire like that before. It was bright orange, and it burned with an intensity that could only be described as supernatural. It was loud, like a storm, and as I approached it I was dismayed to see it was surrounded by piles of food and everyday objects. Offerings. And then I saw it — three human skulls stacked in a pyramid, sitting next to an old rotary telephone.
“Look who’s back. It’s the Brew-Master. So where’s the wagonload of guns you promised?”
“What the hell is this?” I demanded, turning to face the old man.
Bill sneered, removing the cigarillo from his mouth. “Tribute.”
“You bastard!”
“Save yer outrage, boy. Everything here is a gift. We didn’t ask fer nothin’.”
“What about those skulls?”
“Them are courtesy of yer friends,” said Bill, nodding to a trio of men.
They stepped forward, glaring at me with such hostility I drew my gun. I knew all three of them. Not very well, mind you, but well enough that I knew their names.
“Nathan! Why would you do that?”
Nathan smirked, the light from the fire doing little to hide the dark circles staining his eyes. “Like Bill said, it was a gift.”
I was speechless.
Meanwhile his two friends moved toward me, only to retreat thanks to Rosie’s snarling.
“I should shoot you right here,” I said, pointing my rifle at Nathan’s face. He didn’t seem to care, staring at me with that godawful smirk.
“Come on, Rosie. Let’s get out of here.”
“I told you SYS wouldn’t do nothing,” chuckled Bill. “And next time I see you, I expect a bottle of yer best chikka. Got that, boy?”
I went straight to my parents’ trailer. Fortunately, their lights were on, and taking a deep breath, I opened the door to discover both my parents and Jackie playing cards around a little plastic table. I must have scared them something bad, because all three jumped out of their chairs before my parents rushed over to smother me with hugs.
“Davey! You’re alive! I was so worried!”
“I told you I’d be fine, Mummy,” I said, kissing her on the cheek. I even kissed my dad, something I hadn’t done in years, and we stayed like that, huddled together, until I spied Jackie standing by her lonesome.
“I’m so glad to see you,” I said, giving her a hug.
“I did like you told me. I found your dad, and he’s taken care of me ever since. And your mom, too. It’s only been a few days, but they’ve done so much.”
“See? What did I tell you?” She even smelled like my ex-wife, and without thinking I kissed her on the cheek before turning round to peer worriedly through the blinds. “What’s going on out there?”
“It’s bad, son. This thing with Bill is ripping the settlement apart.”
“So he took his … payment?”
My dad took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. “Five of them.”
“Five?”
“We were gathered in the town hall, trying to figure out what to do, when Nathan strolled in and announced that the number was now five. We didn’t even have time to answer before him and his friends rounded up folks at gunpoint and took them to Bill’s wagon. You know Nathan, don’t you? Thin? Black hair?”
“Yeah, I know Nathan. He’s hanging around Bill’s wagon. Him and his friends. They looked possessed.”
“They’re evil, David. There’s no other word for it. And it’s not just him, there are others. And they’ve taken to worshiping Bill in the hope he’ll spare them. You were right, David. It was a mistake letting him stay here. Now please, please tell me you found the SYS building.”
I removed a bottle of chikka from a cupboard and poured myself a mug.
“I found them, all right. And they’re not going to help us.”
A shroud of disappointment descended upon the trailer.
“I tried. Believe me, I tried. But the way they explained it, getting rid of Bill would mean wiping Harkness off the map as well.”
“Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” said my dad, dropping his face into his hands.
“Hold on, now. Just because SYS said no, doesn’t mean I came back empty-handed.”
My dad looked at me, the unmistakable sparkle of hope shining in his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“What is it, Davey? Tell us!”
I gulped down my mug of chikka, dreading what I was about to say.
“First of all, Mummy, you have to admit you threw Sam down the stairs. That’s all you have to do. Admit you threw Sam down the stairs and then ask God for forgiveness.”
There was a tiny part of me that thought maybe, just maybe, my mother would see the wisdom in what I had to say. And for a moment I thought she did. Then her eyes changed.
“How dare you?” she said, rising to her feet. “Sammy tripped!”
“No, he didn’t. I saw you push him. I was there.”
“He tripped!”
“You pushed him.”
“What are you doing?” demanded my dad, jumping from his seat.
“Getting us out of here! You know I’m telling the truth! You know Mummy pushed him down the stairs!”
My mother grabbed one of her cast iron frying pans, and would have whacked me with it had my dad not stepped in and grabbed her arm.
“And you, Dad, you have to admit you’re manipulative and a liar, and that you care more about status than actually helping people.”
I felt terrible saying these things, especially in light of what Harkness had become, but I had no choice.
Meanwhile, my father was doing his best to keep my mother from murdering me with the frying pan.
“It should have been you!” she screamed. “It should have been you who tripped down those stairs!”
“Jackie! Get David out of here while I calm Dorothy down!”
Poor Jackie. Grabbing my bottle of chikka, I went outside and plopped myself down at the picnic table. Jackie emerged soon after, looking thoroughly shaken.
“What just happened?”
“It’s hard to explain.”
“Who’s Sam?”
“He was my brother.”
That’s when the trailer door flew open, and my dad marched toward me, eyes blazing.
“What were you doing in there?”
“I told you! Getting us out of this hellhole!”
“By opening up a twenty-year-old wound?” My dad clenched his fists. I was sure he was going to hit me. Instead, he grabbed my bottle of chikka and threw it, smashing it against a nearby tree. “You know, David, I can handle you calling me manipulative, calling me a liar. But accusing your mother of killing her own child? You might as well have stabbed her in the heart!”