by Tom Mohan
The Serpent sat in the gore and watched. This is almost too easy, he thought. He only sees what I want him to see.
The officer stepped around the bodies and squatted in front of the Serpent, his breath bathing the Serpent’s face in garlic and onion. “How bad are you hurt? Can you speak?”
The Serpent regarded the young officer with amusement. He put on his best victim voice. “I…I don’t know. It all happened so fast. They took off in a car.”
The officer glanced at the street behind him, seeming to notice the bloody footprints for the first time. “They? How many were there?”
“Two, I think. It all happened very fast. My poor friends. The monsters. No mercy on them. None at all. They were brutal.”
“I’ll call for an ambulance. You need to get to the hospital, and I need backup.” He started to rise, but the Serpent grabbed him by the arm.
“Help me up, please.” He unintentionally reentered the subconscious of the officer. Well now, this is interesting. The officer’s eyes widened, as if the whole thing surprised him as well. The Serpent kept his hold on the officer’s arm as they both stood. He heard a voice in his own mind.
You can use him. We can use him.
The Serpent could not keep himself from smiling now. So, his master did approve. He and Lord Denizen were melding, becoming one. Becoming. He was Becoming—and he knew that many things were changing. He welcomed them, embraced them. Lord Denizen would teach him—help him Become.
“Those that did this, they are very dangerous. They must not get away.” The Serpent’s voice no longer played the part of the weak scared victim. This police officer and he were connected now.
“No, they must not get away.” The officer thought about his dead puppy, but no longer felt like the scared little boy.
“What’s your name, officer?”
“Atupele, sir.”
“Atu…what?” The Serpent barked a laugh. “I’ll just call you Bob. That’s okay with you, isn’t it, Bob?”
The police officer shrugged. He stared down the street, his hand on the butt of his gun, thinking of charging off after the killers.
“You know, Bob, those men are on the move. I’d sure hate for them to get away.”
The officer shook now, like a dog straining to get off its leash. “They can’t get away. They have to be brought in.”
“No, Bob, they have to be killed. What they did here must be avenged. Some judge will just let them get away with killing these puppies.”
The officer’s hand tightened on his gun. His shaking grew more severe.
“Let’s go get them, Bob. Let’s go get those puppy killers. I know where they are.”
The Serpent’s laughter filled the street as he followed the young policeman to his car.
John Burke poured out his story as Martinez drove. As Burke related the unbelievable events of the day, Martinez forced himself to listen objectively. It would be so easy to write it off as the ravings of a lonely and desperate man, but something very strange was going on. Martinez shuddered at the memory of his battle with the headless corpse…He hadn’t even told Burke about that yet.
Then there was the church. The place had given him the creeps from the beginning, since the disappearances. Though, if he was honest, most modern churches gave him the creeps. The thought saddened him. He and Trinny had loved their church. The pastor, the people, the love everyone displayed for one another—they’d cherished it all. Bit by bit, however, things changed. A new pastor preached that people should just feel good about themselves and didn’t show them how to live like Christ. In time, the vibrant love of the old congregation began to die off. But he and Trinny hadn’t changed with it, and he hadn’t been able to hide his disapproval of the leadership. A few years ago they were finally told they weren’t welcome there anymore. Their church wasn’t alone. Caricatures of churches sprang up all over, filled with people who loved themselves so much they forgot about everyone less fortunate. The few remaining true believers were driven to worship underground—literally, in many cases. In the name of freedom and individuality, religion had gradually gone mainstream, and those who struggled to hold true to Christ were deemed incendiary and divisive.
When Burke reached the part of the story Martinez already knew, his words began to trail off until he fell silent. His head drooped. For a moment, Martinez thought the man might have fallen asleep, but then he raised his head and stared out the windshield.
“Where did you say we were going?” Burke asked.
“To meet someone.’’
Burke remained silent.
“My wife wants to talk to you.”
“To me? Why?”
Martinez shrugged. “Like I said, I trust her.”
Burke shook his head. “After what you’ve seen and what I’ve told you, I can’t believe you’d let me anywhere near your wife.”
He smiled, just for a moment. “Crazy, huh? I don’t know what to think anymore. Bizarre as your story is, I’m inclined to believe it.”
Martinez slowed and turned onto his street. The ramshackle condition of the neighborhood depressed him. He remembered when this had been a nice place to raise a family. He and Trinny really couldn’t afford the house when they first bought it. But cops could get plenty of overtime back then, and they had made a house payment budget and stuck to it. It hadn’t been easy, but they’d managed. Now, he couldn’t help but notice how dingy and dirty everything looked. Most lawns were dead or dying, and the houses had an unkempt look to them. Every now and then he would pass a well-tended house, but they were rare—maybe one in twenty-five or thirty.
Martinez pulled the car to the curb in front of his own house as the sky continued to brighten with the new day. In his exhaustion, he struggled just to keep his eyes open. He cracked his car door and took a deep breath, only to be assailed by the harsh aroma of marijuana coming from the house next to his. It was hard to believe pot had once been illegal. Now it seemed like everyone used it. Trinny called it ganja weed and wanted nothing to do with it, even in her condition. When Trinny’s doctor had told her smoking a little pot would ease her pain, she had looked him right in the eye and said, “The devil created ganja to ruin the world, and the devil’s a smart man. I won’t be usin’ none a that mess.” He smiled as he thought about how her usually slight Jamaican accent grew stronger when she was agitated.
Martinez moved to the other side of the car and opened the door. “Look,” he said, “that’s my wife in there, and I’m not taking any chances. One wrong move, and we are going to have some serious conflict. Understood?”
Burke nodded. Martinez stared at the battered man a moment longer. What if John Burke was insane? What if this whole crazy night was some weird illusion he had cooked up? No. Martinez had to believe his own eyes. Besides, Trinny knew something, and Martinez trusted her. Finally, he grunted and stepped aside, allowing Burke to exit the car.
Martinez unlocked the front door and escorted Burke inside. “Baby, it’s me…us,” he called. He scanned the interior of the house. It was neat and tidy, as always. Trinny wouldn’t tolerate a messy house. Granted, the place was only half the size of Burke’s place, if that, but it had been their home for over a decade, and he and Trinny had never wanted anything more.
“Back here, hon.” His wife’s voice carried her ever-present pain. She referred to the pain as her cross. Martinez had other not-so-nice words for it.
“Come on. She’s waiting.” Martinez led the way down a short hall to a bedroom. Though he should have been used to it by now, he was still taken aback by the smell of sickness, even before he entered the room. The odor permeated the whole house. He couldn’t escape it. Coming to a halt before entering the room, he said to Burke, “If you do anything to upset her…” He left the threat hanging. “She’s sick, dying. It’s taken her sight and her strength, but not her spirit. She talks—you listen. Got it?”
Burke nodded. Martinez gave his own nod, and they entered the room. Trinny lay in the big b
ed, propped up on a pile of pillows. She looked so tiny and frail beneath the quilt the ladies from church had made for her. The colorful patchwork had always seemed gaudy to Martinez, but his wife cherished it as if Jesus himself had given it to her. As the two men entered, she turned her sightless gaze on them, and Martinez recognized that old fire he had fallen in love with. Trinny’s physical self might be wasting away, but Martinez knew his wife still possessed a spiritual strength that remained unquenched by the trials of this world.
Guiding Burke closer to the bed, Martinez made introductions. “Baby, this is John Burke. John, my wife, Katrina.”
Katrina’s smile lit up her face. “Welcome, John,” she said. Her voice came out stronger than Martinez had expected. “I hear you’ve fallen on hard times.”
Burke looked up, his eyes asking for permission to answer. Martinez gave a brief nod.
“Yes, ma’am, you could say that.”
“I was sorry to hear about your family. Sorry to hear about all them folks. God works in mysterious ways, yes he does. Mysterious ways.”
“No offense, ma’am,” Burke said, “but I don’t think God had anything to do with this.”
Martinez stiffened, feeling his face redden, but Katrina only smiled. “That’s okay, John, that’s okay. God, he doesn’t need you to believe.” Her dark, withered face took on a playful look. “Did this husband of mine tell you he would do you damage if you weren’t nice to me?”
A thin smile formed on Burke’s lips. “Ah, well, ma’am, he did mention something like that.”
She waved a bony hand. “Don’t you worry none about him. I told him to bring you here because we have some things to discuss, and I need you to be honest with me, understand? Don’t be worrying about Dave. And Dave, hon,” she said, her lips turning upwards in a grin, “don’t you worry about me.”
Martinez kept his gaze steady. “Sorry, baby. I’m not taking any chances.”
Again, she waved her hand. “He’s a good man, hon. A good man.” Katrina’s clouded eyes looked directly at Burke, and Martinez wondered if she witnessed something beyond her blindness. Burke tensed at the scrutiny before looking down at the worn carpet. Then, Katrina turned her head, as though she were listening to something. Nodding, she turned back to her husband. “He didn’t kill that boy in his house, hon. That was someone else.”
“How did you know about that?” Martinez asked. “I didn’t tell you.”
“I have other channels, and they grow louder all the time. Sicker I get, louder they get, and the same ones that told me about that poor boy also tell me this man is innocent of the child’s blood.” She smoothed the covers over her frail body. “Hon, get a couple chairs out of the dining room, would you please?”
Martinez gave Burke a hard stare. “Come with me, and wash up some. Trinny’s immune system isn’t what it should be.” Burke nodded and followed him out of the room. After pointing out the bathroom, Martinez grabbed two chairs and returned to the bedroom.
Trinny smiled at him. “I’m surprised you left him alone. Aren’t you afraid he might steal the good silver?” She laughed at her own joke until a deep cough racked her body. Martinez hurried to her side. He hated that he could do nothing to help her. She was so small that he was scared to death of hurting her. All he could do was wait out the coughing fit. At last it subsided, and Trinny leaned back against the pillows, exhaustion written on her face. He took her hand. She gave his fingers a light squeeze before her hand went slack, her eyes closed, and, in a moment, her ragged breathing grew slow and steady as she drifted off to sleep.
Martinez met Burke in the living room and motioned for him to stay quiet and follow. The two men slipped into the kitchen. “She’s asleep,” Martinez said. “Had one of her coughing fits. Wore her out.” He could feel his eyes burning as tears threatened Turning toward the counter, he said, “Coffee?”
“Sure, I guess. What’s wrong with her?”
Martinez kept his back turned. “Cancer. Diagnosed two years ago.” He took a deep breath and let it out before setting up the coffee pot. “Doctors said that treatment might at least give her more time.” His voice deepened as he strove to mask his anger. “Insurance company said otherwise. Said it wasn’t worth the money to treat her because she was gonna die anyway.” He pounded the counter with a huge fist.
Martinez felt a hand on his shoulder. He flinched and almost shook it off, then sagged under the touch. “It probably doesn’t mean much to you,” Burke said, “but I know what it’s like to lose loved ones when no one else cares about it.”
Martinez nodded. “Guess you do.” He stood up straight again. “She isn’t dead yet. Should have been gone over a year ago, but she’s still here. Not getting any better, but not getting any worse either. Says God isn’t done with her yet.”
Just then, they heard Katrina’s voice from the bedroom. “Dave…Dave?”
Martinez jumped up and raced to the bedroom where his wife stood, leaning against the door frame. “What are you doing?” Martinez nearly yelled.
“They’re coming, hon. The bad ones. They’re coming. We got to get. We got to get now.”
Burke followed Martinez back down the hall. Now what? He waited just outside the bedroom as Martinez gently guided his wife back inside and closed the door.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He heard Martinez’s voice through the door. “We’re not going anywhere.”
“Yes, we are. Fast. They’re coming, and we have to go. You can come in, John, I’m decent.” Burke hesitated a moment before opening the door, but he remained outside the room.
“Who’s coming?” Martinez asked.
Katrina turned to him. “Your friends, the police.”
Martinez raised an eyebrow. “Why would they be coming here?”
“Are you that dense?” Katrina asked. “Have you forgotten who you brought here with you, and why?”
“How would anyone know to come here?”
“Hon, I’m only told what I need to know, and right now I’m being told we need to get ourselves out of here.”
The big man squared his shoulders. “Trinny, we aren’t going anywhere. So what if the police come? I’m one of them. They’ll take John to the station for questioning. There’s no evidence he did anything.”
“She’s right, John Burke. You have to get out of here, now.” Burke spun at the voice and saw the red-haired girl. She looked exactly the same as she had the last time he had seen her. Her little face wore an anxious look, and her bare right foot tapped with impatience.
“What are you doing here?” he asked her.
She rolled her eyes. “Trying to save you. Now could we get moving?”
“Who are you, anyway? Why do you keep showing up?”
“Who’re you talking to?” Martinez said.
Burke half-turned, keeping the girl in his peripheral vision. “Red. She’s here.”
“Better listen to her, John,” Katrina said, “She knows what she’s talking about.”
Burke sighed with relief. “Then you see her, too?”
“I see her, in my own way. And I suggest we listen to her, since she’s giving you the same advice I’m getting.” Katrina wore jeans that hung loose on her skinny frame—only a tightly pulled belt kept them up—a cream-colored turtleneck sweater, and sneakers. Physically, she looked ready to drop, but strength and determination burned in her countenance.
“You’re both crazy,” Martinez muttered. “Completely loony. I’m the only sane one here.”
Katrina pushed past her husband, nearly running over the little girl in the process. Moving with a swiftness that belied her blindness, she grabbed her purse from the small table by the front door and turned back to the men. “I suggest we take the SUV in the garage. My wheelchair is already in it.” Her face was ashen, and Burke could see a look of loving pain on her husband’s face.
“Trinny, are you sure? You should be in bed.”
Katrina turned and walked to the kitchen, where she opened
the door and disappeared into the garage. Burke watched as Red followed her. Martinez cursed and stomped off after them, grabbing the keys from a hook by the garage door as he went. “Come on, John,” he said. “You started this whole thing. Now we seem to be stuck with you.”
Burke wondered exactly how this was his fault, but he kept his mouth shut and followed the others to the garage. Martinez helped Katrina into the front passenger seat of the SUV while the little girl settled herself into the backseat. His wife radiated an urgency that was beginning to rub off on him, but he still felt confused and angry. He shot Burke a glare as he closed the door of the SUV. Burke really couldn’t blame him. Martinez was being forced to go against his instincts by a woman on death’s door who knew things she shouldn’t know, a possible mental case, and a little girl he couldn’t see.
Red looked up at Burke with her wide green eyes as he climbed in beside her. “We need to have a long conversation very soon,” he told her.
“If I can keep you alive that long.”
Martinez clambered into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. As soon as they began moving, he hit the brake. “Oh no,” he muttered.
Burke turned and saw a police car blocking the driveway. Through its passenger window, he saw a shadowy face that he could almost feel staring at him. “Well, what now?”
“Don’t stop,” Katrina said. “Keep going, hon.” The urgency in her voice was unmistakable.
“Let’s just go to the station, straighten this all out,” Martinez said.
“We’ll never make it to the station,” Katrina and the girl said at the same time.
