HELLz BELLz (14 page)

“You think you understand now?” The question came from the mannish form floating beside her. It was the mysterious dark-cloaked figure she’d encountered just before she had fallen from the first floor to the cellar. His voice was pitch-pipe-perfectly attuned to the stony pitch of the iron bell.

She drank his dark countenance with astral eyes. “You’re God?” she asked, her spirit voice crackling with electric breath.

“So some say.” His voice blazed with purple light and flaming fuchsia fireflies. “Others say I’m the Evil One. In their ignorance or fear, the fools call me many things. Let’s just say I’m the messenger and my message is written in blood and etched upon the night itself.”

It took a great effort to speak this way, but she managed to discharge the next question: “What message?”

“This is the message,” he said, then plummeted to the cellar floor like a giant drop of glowing liquid. He reached with long fingers and took the squirming infant from the fat man, who fell back on his bloated haunches. The Messenger glanced up at her, opened his mouth to reveal long, curved teeth, and then sank those merciless fangs into the newborn’s tender belly. Blood gushed from the wound like juice from a ruptured overripe red grape.

Aghast, Daisy wanted to fly from the horror but she was caught in a numinous updraft and pinned to the ceiling like an insect pegged to a collector’s board. She bore sick witness to the bloody infanticide. When it was over and the infant was reduced to licked-clean bones, the devourer drifted up to rejoin her.

“You
are
the Evil One,” she accused.

Rather than argue the point, he said, “That was just a bit of housekeeping. The little one would’ve grown up to cause the deaths of thousands, had I not intervened.”

Daisy was skeptical. “Where were you when Hitler was born?”

“Herr Hitler was inevitable. Such personages and their deeds are woven into the fabric of time and cannot be precluded or dropped like a stitch. But how does one who commits matricide presume to judge me? You did murder your mother, did you not? She still breathes, but death-in-life is nonetheless death. And you nonetheless a murderess.”

“No, no, this is all wrong. This isn’t real. I’m dreaming. I’m home in my bed. Or asleep on the couch in front of the TV. That damned bell is giving me nightmares.”

“Would that wishing could make it so, eh? The bell called the damned, and you damned yourself with your answer. There are no do-overs in this game, Daisy dear. This one’s for keeps. Forever.”

Light glistened off the blade below. She watched as the skinhead between her fleshy legs put the knife under her chin and sliced a gash across her throat. The spilling blood drew her down in a blinding rush and she was slammed home into her dying body. She gurgled curses at her killer and at the baby-eater hovering above the scene like a malformed mushroom cloud. She thrashed her head, trying to catch her breath, but she was drowning in her own blood. The peal of the bell grew fainter with each stroke, as did she, her life diminishing, ringing out, bleeding out, and she suffocated on her own blood-slick breath.

Then came a wet silence.

For Daisy Winter, the iron bell tolled no more.

* * *

Candace knew peace before she passed into the next world. The angels had appeared amidst the ringing of Heaven’s bell and they took her baby because it was God’s will. She understood that she had to give up her life so that her child would not be damned for eternity. That was all right: mothers sacrificed what they had to, and they did it for love. There was more joy than sadness in loving sacrifice.

The angels were terrible and cruel, but there was a divine kindness couched in their cruelty. They had allowed her child to escape a great evil and to leave this foul world with its soul untainted. Her regret was that she hadn’t been able to hold her baby to her breast and shower it with cooing endearments, the way mothers do.

Then the dark mouth of the next world opened to take her. She thought perhaps she would meet the child there, in a place without terror, bloodshed or pain.

She went to the darkness with a hopeful heart, believing that love would light her way.

Caught.

Held fast in the teeth of a woman he’d met a couple of hours ago. His wife in the next room, wrapped like a giant blue burrito in a window curtain and leather belts, demanding to be released.

And that maddening church bell kept ringing, never missing a beat, raising all kinds of hell right here in Druid Hills. Trouble with a capital T.

“Please,” Joe whispered, “let me go. My wife…”

Suzie Shrimpton looked up at him. Her lips plastered around his cock went up at the corners in a twisted smile, but she held him firmly in place with her teeth. She shook her head, the motion setting off another surge of liquid lust in his rigid penis. If she kept it up much longer, he was going to blow for sure.

Maybe that was what she wanted. Maybe if he gave her a mouthful of hot spunk, she’d let him go. No, probably not. That was just male fantasy, wasn’t it? That women liked guys shooting off in their mouths. Joe had read a porno story in his youth about women who were addicted to sperm and had to suck cock several times a day. The ultimate male fantasy. But this was no fantasy. This was flesh-and-blood reality. Fantastic as hell, but definitely
real.
The bell was making people crazy; his wife was shouting at him from the next room while his dick was in a strange woman’s mouth. Somebody should call Ripley’s Believe It Or Not! he thought.

“JOSEPH!” Sara shouted. “Goddammit, get me out of this thing!”

“I’m coming, honey,” he answered. Coming in this bitch’s mouth any minute now. Jesus Christ.
Maybe I should just cold-cock her and be done with it.
A wry laugh escaped his lips.
Cold-cock her while she’s hot-cocking me.

He balled up his fist. “Let go of me right now,” he told her. “Don’t make me hit you.”

Suzie bit down harder.

He yelped and reflexively moved his hips backward and her teeth raked his cock, but she didn’t let go. Without further debate, he drove his fist against her temple. She toppled to the floor and his cock sprang free. He gave it a cursory examination. There were abrasions on its dorsal and ventral sides, but, thank God, no blood. He pulled up his pants, zipped them carefully over his flagging erection and buttoned up as Suzie struggled to a sitting position, leaning her back against the bathroom wall. Her halter-top was bunched around her waist, her breasts bare and jaunty, nipples erect. She looked up at him with swimming eyes. She rubbed the side of her head. She looked confused, like a child who has no idea why she’s just been walloped by an irate parent.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You gave me no choice. Are you all right?”

“What the fuck ja hit me for?” she whined, slurring her words.

“You wouldn’t let go of me,” he said in a loud whisper. “You don’t remember?”

She shook her head, then winced in apparent pain. “No, I…”

Joe extended his hand to her. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. He pointed at her breasts. “Better put those away,” he said, trying to smile. “Real beauties, but, you know, my wife and all.” He shrugged, feeling like a fool.

Suzie pulled up the halter and covered her tits, then tied the strap behind her neck. “We…we were…?”

He nodded. “The bell. I guess we were under its spell.”

“Joseph,
please!
” Sara’s voice was less hostile now.

“I think we can untie her now,” he said, then opened the door. He strode into the bedroom. Suzie followed.

“What the hell’s going on?” his wife demanded. Then she saw Suzie and anger flashed in her eyes. “Who the hell is she? What were you doing in the bathroom?”

Joe knelt beside Sara and touched his hand to her cheek. “It’s okay, honey. Things got a little crazy, but we’re all okay now. Let’s get you out of this.”

“Okay my ass! Why’d you do this to me? And who
is
she?” Then she asked Suzie directly: “Who
are
you?”

“A friend of your husband’s. We…it’s a long story.”

“Hear that church bell?” Joe asked her. “It’s somehow making everybody nuts. You freaked out. Don’t you remember?”

Sara shook her head. “I thought I was dreaming. I—”

“You hit me in the head with your music box and started screaming your ass off. We tied you up for your own protection. And ours.”

She wrinkled her brow. “I remember holding the music box, but…something was wrong with it. I don’t know. It…” Her voice trailed off and her eyes glazed with dreaminess.

“Sara? You still with us?” he asked as he began to unwrap her.

“Huh? Yeah. I…how did…?”

“Hurry up,” Suzie said, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her cutoff jeans. “That damn bell ain’t letting up. We could…”

“Don’t worry about it now,” Joe told his wife. “We’re going to get in the car and get out of town. Put as much distance between us and…”

He lost his train of thought. He suddenly felt lethargic, his fingers fumbling with the curtain as he tried to pull a fold out from under Sara’s rump. He stared at the backs of his hands. They didn’t seem like
his
hands. Something was
off.
Out of kilter. He felt very odd, as if his mental perceptions were not centered within his body. “The bell…”

Sara sat up and saw that she was naked. She covered her breasts with her hands and glanced at the strange woman standing in her bedroom. “
Why
am I naked?”

“It changed,” said Joe. “Hear it? It has a different tone. Or an echo. That’s it! Like it’s chasing its echo and that’s why my hands—”

“C’mon, Joe,” said Suzie, “we ain’t got time for this right now. Can’t you feel it? It’s really screwing with our heads.”

“Were you fucking her in there?” asked Sara. “In our bathroom?”

“
No.
Don’t be—”

“Shit, my head hurts.” Suzie gingerly touched the side of her head. “Fucking knot you gave me. Prick.”

“Does she have to be here?” Sara asked. She stood up. Dropped one hand to cover her pubic patch and covered her breasts with the other arm. Narrowed her eyes at the other woman. “Would you mind getting out of my bedroom?”

“No,” said Joe. “We should stay together so we can watch each other. In case somebody starts flipping out again.”

“I’m already flipping out. I need some aspirin.” Suzie went back to the bathroom and banged open the medicine cabinet.

“Get dressed,” Joe said. “Hurry.” Then he turned on the TV on top of his chest-of-drawers and cranked up the volume to drown out the sound of the bell. An action movie was on cable. Loud gunfire and car crashes and blaring electronic music. Perfect cover. He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his face with his hands.
His
hands. Feeling a little more centered now.

Sara went to the walk-in closet and selected a pair of jeans and a blue pullover shirt.

Suzie came out of the bathroom, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Shit, I’ve seen that flick a hundred times. It’s Gary’s favorite. Give me a smoke, will ya?”

Joe tossed her a cigarette, then tossed her the book of matches. She missed the matches and bent down to snatch them off the carpet.

“I think it’s helping,” he said, nodding at the TV. “But the sound waves are still there even though we can’t hear them over the movie.”

“What? What’re you talking about?”

“The bell. Its sound waves are still reaching us, even though we can’t pick them out from all the cover noise. Even so, I think it’s blunting the effect.”

“Okay, Einstein,” Suzie said as she lit a cigarette and blew smoke at the ceiling and watched the lazy patterns it made.

“That’s why we still have to get out of town.” He shook a smoke out of the pack, stuck it between his lips and said, “Toss me the matches.”

Suzie tossed them. “Don’t you have a lighter somewhere in this house?”

“Oh, yeah. I wasn’t thinking.” He reached over to the bedside table, pulled out the drawer and fished out a disposable Bic.

“Hell, who can think? This is all just too frigging weird.”

Sara came out of the closet fully dressed, her leather sandals slapping her heels. “You’re smoking in the bedroom? Both of you? Jeez.”

“Lighten up, honey. We’ve got bigger things to worry about right now,” he told her.

“You’re right,” she replied with an icy edge to her voice. “Like what you and your little friend were doing in the bathroom with the door shut while I was tied up on the goddamn floor.”

“Not now. Let’s just go.” Joe stood, went to the chest-of-drawers and got his pistol out of his sock drawer. A snub-nosed .38, five shells in the cylinder.

“What’re you doing with that?” asked his wife.

“Protection. Lot of crazies out there. I’ve already seen one man die tonight and another one shot and tortured by the cops. And an old fart attacked me with a nine iron.”

“A what?”

“A golf club.”

“You’re not serious.”

“As a heart attack, honey,” Suzie said, giving
honey
a mocking inflection.

Joe snugged the pistol in the waist of his pants. He found the earmuffs and handed them to Sara. “Keep these on. They might keep you from going bananas again.” He got a handful of cotton balls from the bathroom and gave some to Suzie. “These should work a little better than the cigarette butts. Plug your ears and we’re out of here.”

Sara said, “I don’t understand why we have to leave home. If it’s so dangerous out there, why don’t we stay here?”

“Because it’s
not
safe,” said Suzie. “Haven’t you been listening? That goddamn bell is doing things to everybody who hears it. Believe it or not, it
is.
Hell, you were a basket case when we found you. A screaming Mimi. You don’t remember any of that?”

Sara cut her eyes at Suzie. “No, I don’t. I sorta do, but it was like a crazy dream, one you can only remember bits and pieces of.”

“It was no dream. You were out of your fucking gourd.” Suzie carelessly blew smoke in Sara’s face.

“You have no right to talk to me that way. This is
my
house and you—”

“Ladies,” said Joe, stepping between them, “this isn’t the time for a cat fight. Come on, we’re going. Stop antagonizing each other. Please.”