Coffin Island (25 page)

“
They aren’t sitting up here
with us,” Madison shouted.

“
There is no way that a four
hundred year old pirate is sitting on my lap,” I said calmly. “I’d
rather kill myself.”

“
Hail thee fellows,”
Professor Coffin bellowed.

“
It’s nice to see such
friendly faces,” The Red Lady gnashed her ancient teeth. They
looked like a flock of dead canaries. I was thinking back fondly on
that shotgun. Why had I tossed it out the window? Wasn’t a gun
supposed to go off if you introduce it into the plot?

“
Just get in the trunk,”
Madison said.

The trunk of the glass Cadillac popped
itself.

“
Try to be quiet like two
corpses that need to be disposed of in the nearest swamp,” I
suggested.

“
After you, old cow,”
Professor Coffin said cheerily.

“
You really know how to
treat an old hag,” The Red Lady snarled as she climbed into the
trunk of the glass Cadillac like a wedding bed. “Take my hook, you
old goat.”

Professor Coffin took the cold hook of
The Red Lady and rattled aboard the trunk of the glass Cadillac
like a pail of bones. There was definitely a romance blossoming in
that trunk. I could practically see the bones pushing their way up
through the rubble. A garden of skulls would be lovely. You don’t
get to tend one of those everyday. The trunk of the glass Cadillac
slammed shut.

“
We’ve found the romantic
angle that this saga was lacking,” Madison snorted.

“
I can only imagine the
horror that it grows,” I said.

“
A horned infant,” Madison
snorted.

“
With a tail,” I
said.

“
You’re going to be the
godparents,” Professor Coffin shouted from the trunk of the glass
Cadillac.

Now we had four suspects that were
potentially running our test?

“
It will be our pleasure if
you two old bags can produce a spawn,” I hollered.

Why not roll with this dreaded
witchcraft? You might as hang upside down and hiss like a bat for
your own amusement.

“
I’m preemptively
shuddering,” Madison said.

“
You’re not the only one,”
The Red Lady croaked from within the trunk.

“
I haven’t been out of these
drawers in four hundred years,” Professor Coffin bellowed. “Hail
thee fellow.”

I put my arm around Madison. Honey
snuggled Kaiser. I don’t even want to think about what Professor
Coffin and The Red Lady were doing in the trunk of the glass
Cadillac. We speed off across the wasteland towards glass Alcatraz.
Why not just go for it?

“
If the glass Cadillac is
rocking,” Professor Coffin bellowed. “Witchcraft will come
knocking.”

“
Tap on the window with a
nightstick,” I said.

“
Keep it down in there,”
Madison roared.

Chapter

The glass Cadillac drove itself into
the lake of bubbling rum. We were screaming our faces off in
terror. However it simplified matters. Witchcraft was cutting us a
break. We just didn’t see it for the good fortune that it was while
it was happening. That piece of it in retrospect wasn’t shocking.
It looked decidedly dangerous as we drove into that lake of
bubbling rum. Although in a strange way it put my troubled mind at
ease.

Frankly I wasn’t looking forward to
whatever horrors Alcatraz in glass was brewing up in its tin cup.
The induction ceremony presumably included scalding rum on the
trousers. There was nothing delicate about that. It made the
horrors of the drive-thru pale in comparison. You’ve got to keep
that perspective finely tuned. Otherwise you’ll go mad in this
world of witchcraft.

Crudely fashioned weapons, hitting your
spine were probably the only comfort in that super max. Kitchen
patrol included peeling humans. Boiling them until they were fork
tender and then the masher came out. A glass Cadillac driving
through a volcano was preferable. It was a well built automobile.
It was just the operating system that was a bit unnerving. It
heightened the volcano anxiety. Who wants an out-of-control force
of the occult determining their destination as it plunges down into
a lake of fire?

I might have stepped on the parking
break in the interest of full disclosure. We were cruising up this
incredibly steep ramp to presumably jump the lake of fire. I was
hopeless to change our direction. The steering wheel wouldn’t give
so why not step on the parking brake? I put that pedal to the metal
as it were. Give witchcraft a little shudder. The parking brake
operated beautifully. We skidded right up that ramp until
takeoff.

We failed to jump the entire lake of
fire. We actually almost made it. Roll up your windows pronto. I
just stomped on the parking break out of sheer cussedness. We’re
going into the lake of fire. How is that for a big gamble down on
the felt? That’s right dealer I’ve got my whole life on lucky
number seven. It’s going to pay out too. You watch. Stand back
though because I might have blown it. Why juggle sticks of dynamite
if you’re not going to light the fuse?

There were these hideous little faces
screaming at us as we drove down through that bubbling inferno.
Those fiery caretakers of the volcano were a comfort though. There
was life in this volcano. It was terrible. It was angry. It
desperately wanted to kill us. However it was a cause for
celebration because if you’re already dead a hideous flaming
creature can’t want to kill you.

We were definitely alive. Fear was the
main indicator. Flaming faces were clamoring for our destruction.
That was the only thing of which I was certain. I was still alive.
The flaming creatures were the indicator. They desperately wanted
to kill us. It was a wonderful sign. Come and get me flaming tough
guy.

However witchcraft had more hideous
plans up its black sleeve. Why wear all black if you aren’t going
to frighten the daylights out of everyone? I was terrified to death
but that would turn into something much darker shortly. It’s funny
how that works. One minute you are praying that your wretched life
be spared. Then let’s just say for the sake of argument that you
make it. Chances are the next move in the playbook features seizing
the life force right out of your enemy. It is god’s will, you see?
The cosmic creature spared your life because he wants you to end
your tormentor. You snuff the daylight out of your enemy like a
candle, poof. If I live through this I will slaughter my enemies if
I can delineate who they are. That’s what I was praying for. I was
praying to identify the guilty party behind all of this so that I
could sacrifice it brutally to my cosmic creature.

The flaming creatures howled hopelessly
at our glass Cadillac as we drove down into that sea of fire. The
flaming creatures had no hope of killing us. Our hope was
unbreakable. Or perhaps it was just our glass Cadillac could not be
penetrated by fire. Why have a glass Cadillac if it’s going to
catch on fire?

We need it to smash during the
horrendous crash into the second world of witchcraft which was
actually the third world of witchcraft. The second world of
witchcraft was the third world of witchcraft. Or the third world of
witchcraft was the second world of witchcraft. Frankly I wasn’t
counting at this point. Why let witchcraft score a
point?

However witchcraft needed that glass
Cadillac intact so it could impale us with spears of glass which it
would shortly do. I was trying to find something to be pleased
about. The glass Cadillac didn’t incinerate somehow. Magical
Detroit was a credit to my people.

Also Flash was furiously running
defense. How could flaming creatures intimidate that cantankerous
beast? It wasn’t possible. He was relishing the fiery attention.
Flash was howling brimstone out the tailpipe to all takers. I had
to admire the fortitude of that flaming ape.

He was hideously outnumbered, defending
his sworn enemy, but he refused to surrender to even his own
people. Flash was an artist of the first right. He would wage war
with any flaming creature that had the audacity to darken his fiery
door. No matter how ferocious. No matter the tribal connection. He
would slay his own flaming ape mother if she had the cheek to
question his profession.

Flash was the protector of the Coffin
Island library of this much I was certain. He would back down for
no creature whether magical or human. Madison may have destroyed
him briefly but he couldn’t be broken. He would always come back
for more. Climb out of his fiery coffin for more. Flash had earned
his stripes in my book. He was a righteous creature.

Although I had a few misgivings as the
glass Cadillac roared through the boiling rum. Was I missing
something here? Why not take a moment to clarify your thinking?
Reconsider your circumstances and what brought you here? Let’s
trace back a bit, shall we? Are you satisfied with these
reflections that seem to be your last cognitive thoughts? That
final gasp of consciousness before the great beyond and I’m
pondering a flaming magical ape? Witchcraft is going to pay for
this, I thought. If I live through this there will be terrible
consequences. How’s that for a happy thought on death’s door? If I
get the opportunity to turn back from the hinges of hell, there
will be hell to pay. Why the hell not?

What to make of this flaming ape in the
meanwhile. We might as well study him for instruction. Perhaps we
can learn something from a flaming ape that has been so prominently
featured in this test. What to make of this flaming
beast?

Flash was just doing his sworn
magically duty. He was merely magically attached to his task of
protecting the books. He had a job that couldn’t be broken. It
really wasn’t his decision at all.

Flash didn’t have freewill. His orders
came from some fiery hell above. Or perhaps his orders came from
below. Was it up or down? Was it inbred or nurture? Frankly it
didn’t matter. I was too far gone to look in any direction with any
objectivity.

Flash was merely protecting the
library. Protecting knowledge was his inalienable task. He didn’t
care about us. We were merely ticks on the corpse of the animal.
And he didn’t even care about the animal. Knowledge was irrelevant
to him. It was his task that he was attached to.

We were the unwelcome recipients of his
superfluous malevolence. But what good is roaring at the whole
world if you haven’t got your heart into it? Flash was putting his
flaming soul into it. Only a fool wouldn’t grant him that. The rest
of that cantankerous beast is best left uncovered. We need to
shroud that hideous beast in a bit of mystery. Otherwise he becomes
completely unpalatable.

We did ungraciously crash into the next
world with a fiery thud. Flash couldn’t be held responsible for
that as much as I would like to criticize him for it. However he
wasn’t expected to provide us with a graceful entry. He was tasked
with the bells of hell escape which he accomplished magnificently.
He put the pedal to the metal and outran the cops.

The getaway car made it. Sadly the
wheelman was another story. In typical fashion he got pinched by
the cops as we entered the atmosphere. We were going to miss him.
We were really going to miss him. He had a lot of fiery things to
say. He had a lot of nothing to say.

Frankly it was his fault. Flash was
showing off. He was bouncing up and down in the glass tailpipe. He
was letting out hearty roars. He was pounding on his fiery
chest.

He was gloating like a rooster. He was
doing that whole cock on the block act. However his celebratory
chicken strut was a bit premature. You need to save that victory
cluck for after the victory. Otherwise it’s a disgraceful cluck.
The world doesn’t need anymore of those.

A tiny firefly attacked Flash. It flew
towards him with the casualness of a moth. It wheeled its way right
up the glass tailpipe with the utmost care. That firefly had all
the time in the world to reach its destination. It just sort of
drifted towards its objective with a gracefulness that we seldom
see in witchcraft. It made you wonder if it was even witchcraft.
Perhaps there were things in this world that were outside the
purview of witchcraft. Or the creature at the top was sneaking a
cigarette again.

Chapter

A firefly killed Flash. What it lacked
in size it made up for in atomic force. It flew right into his
fiery chest like it was just a mistake. It had merely bumped into
our protagonist. It was not an antagonist as it had delicately
suggested as it casually wheeled towards its final destination.
Flash let out a hoary roar to the side to permit the fiery speck
safe passage. He thought the little firefly was funny. Laughter was
his last word.

A flaming ape of bottomless malevolence
died laughing. Flash was extinguished with an almost imperceptible
pop. One minute Flash was roaring with all his vainglorious might
and the next he was gone. He was erased. It was quite the
demonstration of hubris for the allegory enthusiast of which I
included myself among. I had been trying to read the symbols and
signs of this world mightily. I was thrilled that it had finally
delivered up something that I could decipher. The message was
clear.