Dastardly Bastard (24 page)

Scott’s face crumbled in on itself, withering. The skin felt like parchment under her fingers. Still, she continued until her hand broke through, and she was holding his verebrae in her hands.

Eighty years of decay in only seconds. Justine was left holding a skeleton by the base of the skull.

~ * * * ~

“Has he won?”

“No, Just. He’s forgotten something. You have, too. Something very important. You remember, don’t you?”

“No. I only remember you. Your heart. Your kind eyes. You were always there for me. Scott, he didn’t have that. He didn’t deserve to die like this.”

“Neither did Papa. But you know what? He died long before I took him. That shadow had laid waste to the man I loved. There was nothing left when it was done. This boy wasn’t himself either. Scott died long ago, baby girl.”

~ * * * ~

“No.” The Bastard rolled over her, chilling her entire body with his presence. “You will not build a place to hide. You
will
give in. You
will
forget.”

~ * * * ~

“Nana?”

Justine found herself alone, her grandfather’s casket slowly lowering into the ground before her. Nana Penance was gone, as was her mother, along with the other mourners. Cold breath played across the side of her neck. The Bastard lingered in her peripheral vision, far too solid. He smiled. Why not? He had won.

“Nana!”

“She’s no longer here. I am all that is left. I have made good on my promise.”

“What promise?” Justine thought she knew, but it left her before her mind could wrap around it. She suddenly couldn’t remember her grandmother’s name. Justine could see her grandmother’s face fading off in the distance. Then, it too was gone.

“Never you mind that. We have traveling to do. Memories to…” The Bastard shuddered. “Feed upon.”

“Where are we going?” Justine didn’t really care. She only asked the question out of curiosity.

“So many questions. None that concern you.”

“No. They don’t.”

“That’s right.”

“I’m hungry.”

“You will feed. There will be more. There always are.”

“What do we do until then?”

“We wait. We’re so very good at waiting.”

“Yes.” Justine smiled. “Yes, we are.”

47

DONALD AND THE REST OF the group found Jaleel’s corpse on their way through the cavern’s tunnels. The hair was bone white. The man looked emaciated, as if he’d been sucked dry. Donald couldn’t look too long upon the man’s face, didn’t want to accept that Jaleel’s eyes were gone. He’d heard somewhere that the eyes were the windows of the soul. Maybe it was in the Bible, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Anybody concerned with where that light is coming from?” Trevor asked, breaking an uncomfortable silence.

“It followed me when Sunne… when that monster was chasing me through this place,” Donald said, glad to quit thinking of Jaleel.

The soft, diffuse light hovered around them, covering them in a glowing yellow hue. Donald had thought it might be a ploy, a distraction. The Bastard
wanted
them to find Jaleel
, wanted
them to lose hope.

The big guy tried to cover Lyle’s eyes, but the boy saw enough. The kid buried his face into Mark’s stomach and cried so fiercely that Donald thought his own heart would fall from his chest.

Donald knelt beside the withered body and closed Jaleel Warner’s eyelids over their empty sockets.

Donald prayed a silent prayer. He was an atheist and had never believed in any invisible man over the rainbow, but that didn’t stop him from asking for help. They were not safe no matter what they thought. Stronger wills were working against him, and he wasn’t all that sure they would make it out.

As if Mark was reading his mind, the big guy said, “This doesn’t change anything. We keep looking. Justine’s still alive. I know it.”

Donald’s inner asshole wanted so bad to say something, to disagree, to curse and flip his shit, but he held it back. Justine would want that. He would tell her, when they found her, that she had helped him deal with an infected sore at the core of his being. Justine needed to know. Moreover, Donald needed to make her aware the world wasn’t so bad, after all. People weren’t so terrible. Life was worth living, and people should cherish it.

“Let’s go,” Donald said, straightening his shoulders as he rose from beside Jaleel. “I’m tired of the dead. I want to find someone breathing down here.”

The passageway tapered and thinned, until it finally ended at a steel door, ages old and rusted in the corners.

“After you,” Donald told Mark. The big guy grabbed the massive loop set in the door and tugged hard. It didn’t budge.

“That sucked,” Mark said, rubbing his arms. “Maybe we should all try. You’re cool, Lyle. There’s not enough room in here for all of us.”

Donald grabbed the loop; he was just tall enough to reach it on his tippy toes. He wasn’t sure how much help he would be, but he was going to try. Trevor rounded Mark and took hold of the loop on the other side.

“One… two… three!”

The door didn’t exactly open so much as it almost crushed them. The hinges gave with a ghastly squeal. Donald released the loop and jumped back, covering his ears as the metallic cacophony echoed through the passageway. Mark and Trevor were able to sidestep out of the way of the falling door. Lyle was leaning against a wall ten feet away, drying his eyes. He had never been in any danger.

Mark was the first one in, then Donald. Trevor and Lyle brought up the rear.

“Holy shit,” Mark whispered. The big guy stepped to the side.

Donald felt his breath stop in his throat. The room was forever large. Padded walls covered in stick figure drawings and scrawled poetry rose up into infinity. Donald didn’t know if there was such a thing as reverse vertigo, but he was quite sure that was what he was feeling. Instead of that sick, dizzy feeling at the threat of a tumble, he was energized, sucked into the room by a gravity that defied reasoning. He should have been terrified, but the only emotion he felt was one of all-encompassing sadness. That, combined with the burst of energy in his core, made for one hell of an odd feeling.

The thrumming began again, making Donald’s chest vibrate. It was the same noise he’d heard when the monster chased them through Bay’s End. Obsidian waves of sound poured over them. Donald realized he was listening to a heartbeat.

“Justine!” Trevor screamed, bolting for the middle of the room and looking up at the ceiling.

Donald followed the guy’s gaze, focusing in on the wraithlike vision hovering fifty feet overhead. Justine’s head was tilted back, her arms extended as if she’d been crucified. She spun slowly, around and around, a tar-like substance pouring from the sides of her face like black waterfalls. The viscous fluid splashed down onto the padded floor, soaking into the material and disappearing.

“What the hell’s wrong with her?” Trevor asked, spinning himself, trying to follow her movements.

Donald wanted to answer him, give the guy some help, but he was overwhelmed by the feeling that they were too late. He imagined a battery set inside a flashlight’s base, the cell giving the device power to work. Only what had become of Justine was a glaringly obvious opposite. The shadows coming off of her were the result of the power. The Bastard was using her to create the black. Not light. Donald remembered Jaleel’s dried up corpse and no longer wondered what had happened to him.

“Justine!” Trevor cried again.

The sight of him broke Donald’s heart. They had to do something.

But what?

“The good ones,” Mark said from beside him.

“What?”

“Think about Sunne, your girlfriend who died. Think about her.” Mark bent and grabbed Donald by the lapels. “Damn it, Squirt! Think! What power do we have? What helped us back inside that house?”

“Sunne? What does she…” But Donald was already seeing her. She bled through the padded wall across from him. She seemed far away, but became more real as she crossed the seemingly infinite room. Sparkling, she left a trail of glowing mist in her wake.

Donald felt Mark release him. Had he not, Donald would have broken his grasp, anyway. Donald bounced as he ran, the padded floor tossing him up and down as if he were in one of those bouncy castles at a kid’s party.

“Can you help?” Donald called.

Sunne was still a football field away, but he heard her loud and clear. “You memories not enough, Donald.” Her smile was sad, but it was still a smile. He loved how it looked on her face. Sunne’s eyes twinkled just as they had in Central Park that day way back when. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but he was going to use it.

“Mark!” Donald said. “Where’s your fucking army?”

“Right!” Mark put his palms to the side of his head and appeared to concentrate hard. His lips moved, but Donald couldn’t decipher what he was saying. People began pouring in all around them.

Trevor was still too focused on his floating, possessed girlfriend to see the approaching horde of soldiers, but Lyle wasn’t. Donald saw the idea pop into the boy’s head. He imagined the expression to be the same as Wendy’s when Peter Pan convinced her she could fly.

“Mom! Dad!” Lyle yelled. The boy screwed his eyes closed.

Good boy,
Donald thought.
Very good!

Donald turned back to Sunne. She was only a few feet away from him.

“Is this enough?” he asked.

“We see.”

“What do we do now?” Mark called.

“Get the Bastard.” Donald had wanted to sound tough, but his voice cracked.

Mark yelled, “You heard him, ladies and gentlemen!”

“I love you.” Sunne blew Donald a kiss. A warm, all-encompassing heat covered him from head to toe.

Sunne rose, moving up toward the spinning Justine. Mark’s army climbed the air like men storming a beach. Up they went, gaining purchase on nothing more than blank space. Among the soldiers was Marsha Lake, Lyle’s mother. On her arm was a very handsome man who looked like an older version of Lyle. The boy’s memories were fighting back, too.

Donald had no idea what would happen to Justine during the assault, but they had no other choice. Things had gone on far too long. The Bastard was going down if Donald had anything to do with it. He may not be able to rip the Bastard’s heart from his chest with his own hands, but he would enjoy watching it unfold.

“What are they doing?” Trevor wailed. “They’re hurting her.”

The horde fell upon Justine’s form, ripping and tearing. From what Donald could see, the attacking mob wasn’t harming Justine. They were reaching inside her, their ethereal forms passing through her. Each man and woman tore at her, yanking pieces of black flesh out of her. The viscera landed all around Donald and Trevor. It smelled old.

The more the battle progressed, the further down Justine came. Whatever had been holding her up was weakening. The thrum in Donald’s ears, that insidious heartbeat, thudded harder, quicker.

The Bastard was scared.

Justine finally fell, plummeting to the floor. She bounced twice on the padding, flopping like a rag doll. Trevor rushed to her side and scooped her into his arms. He sat on his haunches, Justine’s limp body clutched to his chest.

“Baby?” Trevor cried. “Please say you’re all right. Please, just say something. Baby?”

The Bastard rode high on the wind, left behind by Justine’s fallen body. Donald felt his testicles shrink at the sight of the thing. It twisted up there, black flesh glowing in the trails of the attacking army. Donald heard a keening sound.

Good
, Donald thought.
Let the fucker die screaming.

Before Donald could fully celebrate their victory, the Bastard began fighting. He scourged the horde with flaying claws, tearing them to pieces. The throng fought, their numbers lessening. The Bastard snatched one up, bit off his head, and tossed him away like so much garbage. He took the legs off a female soldier with a wide sweep of his arm.

“Dad!” Lyle yelled.

The boy’s father was on the Bastard’s back, ripping chunks of inky flesh from its shoulders. The Bastard reached back and plucked the man’s arm off as if removing a grape from its stem.

The Bastard had turned the tide.

48

“REMEMBER, JUST. WHILE HE’S GONE, remember.” Warm tones enveloped in caring syllables.

Justine had no idea where she was. The room held distant artifacts of forgotten times. Pictures of persons she could not recollect hung on the walls.

She sat on a sofa, a comfy one, with cushions that almost swallowed her. A laptop lay across her thighs, a social networking site displayed on the screen. An instant messaging window was up.

Hey there, beautiful

The pop up was from Trevairforce. Justine didn’t remember the name, but a heat spread across her chest at the sight of the IM.

hey u

Her response came without a thought.

You all set for tomorrow?

sure am

You’re sure you want me to meet her?

Justine had no idea what the person was talking about, nor who “her” was. Her mind was a mixed bag of emotions. Confusion played over doubt. Uncertainty clogged the well of revelation. She was lost.

yeah why not?

WAND NEVER ROOF

what???

LOL, I didn’t say anything.

never mind then. of course i want you to meet her.

Good. Cause the parents didn’t go over well. LMAO!

yeah that sucked.

Your Dad WILL get over the fact that I’m white. No worries here, baby.