The Dunwich Romance (10 page)

Why the heck is he...

In spite of the resistant cast of face, Wheeler knelt immediately and began to eat; and it was with no meager zestfulness with which he consumed the self-made meal. When the pile had been transferred entirely into his belly, he licked the floor clean, whereupon, like his cohorts, he sidled over in convulsant misery.

This scene, and the others before it, however, proved
not
to be the strangest that Sary would witness today.

That peculiar sub-aural semi-sound had disintegrated, such that Sary now wondered if she’d heard it at all. Impulse, then, caused her to turn her head...

Wilbur...

Indeed, her surprised gape revealed Wilbur Whateley as the one who’d earlier entered the ramshackle store. The colossally tall man stood as if in trance, mouth open, eyes aimed blankly at the raftered ceiling. Additionally, his hands were outspread, and from each palm issued a modest floret of flame crowned by a smoke-plume which seemed to possess the oddest chlorotic hue. The flame itself, in fact, was possessed of a similar tint. There was something sickish about it. But in the time it took Sary to blink—

The flames and smoke were gone.

Wilbur stood in typical fashion, his gaze addressing Sary. In moments he’d come to her, lifted her off the table, and gently helped her back on with her gown.

“Aw, Sary, I’se so sorry. Dun’t know what I was thinkin’ lettin’ yew come daown heer by yerself—I should’a known these low-daown scum’d pull suthin’ like this...”

But Sary felt invigorated. “I’m fine, Wilbur—”

Towering over her, Wilbur gulped. “Did they...”

Sary shook her head with a smile. “Nope. Yew come just in time. Oh, and your friend over theer come in with me.” She scratched her head. “Seemed almost like he knowed them crummy men wouldn’t git theer way... Mebbe he
is
a fortune teller.”

“Yew mean Kyler?”

“Yeah, he’s right th—” but when Sary turned to where the bald man had been knocked down, he was no longer present in the edifice.

She rebuttoned the gown, her mind abounded in perplexity. The three miscreants remained curled on the floor, moaning, twitching, their trousers down. Tobias actually sucked his thumb through his flinches. Sary struggled to refocus on details but found that an overmuch effort was required; her memory took on a haziness that matched her previous faltering vision.
Did I really see what I THINK I saw?

Wilbur stiffened when Sary innocuously took his hand. Her eyes narrowed in a deep solicitude. “Wilbur, what the heck juss happened? I could’a sweared I saw...” but did she, did she
really?

Had she
really
seen Lang willingly swallow Wheeler’s urine?

Had she
really
seen Tobias consume the spit-can’s contents, and Henry Wheeler eat his own feces? And...

Did Wilbur really have FIRE comin’ aout his hands?

Wilbur’s wedge-like face took on an aspect of desperate mediation. Did his hand tremble slightly in Sary’s grasp? “All I done is make them ugly fellas think things they’d otherwise not think.”

“Huh?”

“It be hard to ‘splain. Ever heer’a
mesmerism?
”

“Wal, no—”

“Haow ‘baout hypnosis?”

Sary shook her head. The words meant nothing to her. “Was it-was it...some kind’a
magic
yew was makin’?”

Wilbur’s evident nervousness loosened a bit. “Naw, nuthin’ like that really, though I can understant why some’d think as sech. Tain’t nothin’ really but science if ye look hard, jest a way of
distractin’
a man so’s ta make him do whut he dun’t wanna. I only make him
think
he wanna.”

Science?
Distraction?
Sary wondered. She’d had no proper learning, and knew she possessed little in the way of intelligence, but she was aware of what
those
words meant.
So he made Henry Wheeler THINK he wanna eat his own shit?

“It be best ye juss not think ‘baout it,” Wilbur said with a different emphasis, and the emphasis told her this: that somehow, through some means Sary could not cogitate, Wilbur had indeed induced those appalling Dunwichers to debase themselves exactly as she’d seen.

The sudden realization brought upon Sary such a potent sensation of delight that she nearly giggled aloud...

“Let’s git aout’a here, afore someone come in,” Wilbur suggested. “The state patrol been comin’ through Dunwich lately too.”

This latter component of Wilbur’s information was one that Sary was depressingly aware of. The state patrol had indeed commenced to infrequent patrols of Dunwich since a rash of disappearances had been reported among several of the more remote country-branch families. Sary doubted the efficacy of such patrols, but saw them more as an excuse for the officers to travel off their regular beats and, in a number of cases, threaten to arrest her for vagrancy violations unless she could find in herself a willingness to offer them various sexual gratuities...

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Let’s go.”

Wilbur led her out into the now deepening dusk, but before heading for the road back—

“Wait a sec,” he remarked as if something forgotten had just alighted itself. “Whar’s that rock candy you come fer?”

Sary bristled. “Them poop-heads in there didn’t even give me chance ta buy some ‘fore they started messin’ with me.”

Wilbur went back into the store only to return just as speedily, bearing a five-pound sack of rock candy.

Eight

July 29, 1928 midnight

Was good I got that notion to go to Osborn’s cuz just as I thoght them loafers in there were puttin a hard turn to Sary, looking to fuck her against her will and whatever else come inta their dirty heads. But afore they cud have there way, I did one of the Fire Ensorcellments I learned while saying the newest Pnakotic stanzas that corresponted with paragraf 1106 on Al Azif like my grandsire taut me to do. It work better than ever which tells me I’m getting the right intonations. Did me good to see them men get whats comin to them. Got all distrakted, though, cuz after she get ma’s black gown back on, Sary take hold my hand. Was reel nice and made me feel like I never had, had trouble keepin my mind straight. Anyway, she ast me if it be Magick I pulled on them men but I just kinda moseed around the topic. Don’t know how shed feel if I told her the whole thing. As for them loafers, I kinda laugh to myself. Theyll be sick for a few days, but I don’t calclate theyll bother Sary no more.

We walk home, and Sary ask me about the disappearances cuz she overheard what them men say implyin it was me. I didnt lie now, I just tell her I didn’t take the Farr girls or Lows boy or that shitty Bishop girl. “Never laid a hand on em,” I tell Sary, and that be true cos it were what I called out the air that took em, not me. Guess it was a little lie but what cud I say? She agree anyway that none of em were any good. The Farr sisters were theeves of the first water, as Grandfather yewst to say, and the Low boy and Kely Bishop talk bad and lie bout folks right through there face, me inclooded. I never call the Old Ones on decent folks but of corse theres not many good folks round here anyway. “Folk like that be best in the bellies of Yog-Sothoths minions,” Grandsire say so many times. “En’t fit to pick the corn out a my shit.”

Was gettin dark by time we get bak to the toolhouse, then Sary and me eat a bunch of rock candy, and I cuold tell she like it a lot. She thank me again for my mother’s gown and for helpin her gainst them skell at Obsorns and also the Hutchins boy, and for feedin her and what not, but then I got feeling low when she say to me, “Wal, Wilbur, I guess I better be goin now. I takin up enough of yer time and generosity,” so I get all flustered and tell her, “Aint no call to leeve, less acourse ya wanna.” She tell me she didnt wanna but was afraid she be incunviencing me, which I assure her she wasnt. “I’d reely like for you to stay,” I said but felt funny saying it cuz why wud a beautiful girl like Sary want to stay with me? but she come over and take my hand again, which make me all swoony, and she smiled a sec but then looked down, and say like theres something not right in her heart, “Wilbur, I gotta be honest, and I spect you know already but I don’t got no larnin or work skills so...well, I gotta sell myself to men for money. Believe me, I tried but I cant find no other way. Im kind of ashamed but there be nothin else for me.” Of corse I already knew this and don’t keer so I tell her back “Sary, these are bad times, not jess here but everwhere. Barely any money ta be made. Don’t matter what folks do to keep clothes on there back and food in their stomach. Long as it don’t hurt no one else, least don’t hurt decent folk. Now, when a girl gotta sell herself for money, I don’t find nothin wrong with that. My grandfather always tell me it aint good to make judgment about folks, unless we walk in their shoes first.” She seem releeved to hear me say this cos I could see by her face that a big burden had been lifted from her tellin me that. Then I say more, “But you don’t need to leave here now just ta make money,” but I didnt feel I had right to say I didn’t like her making money that way. Werent none of my business. But I tell her to wait right there a minute and I go out of the shed and run strait to the little family burying ground with the old iron fence round it. I go direct to the big old flat grave marker stone of my great great great uncle Silas Whateley. On the ash tree which grow right close, Grandsire had nailed a wood slat cut from the old Hanging Oak used to be in the town square, and on it he carved the words from the Pnakotic which make for what he call a Imperceptibility Conjuration. Now, Silas Whateley’s old stone be almost as big as a coffin lid and be heavier than most men hereabouts could lift, and even if they could Grandsire knew
they’d never try on account how superstitious Dunwichers be
and wouldnt dare meddle inna unconsecrated cemetery—t’would be the worst of luck—and specially since Great Uncle Silas were condemmed by what be calt a Writ of Assize and hanged for sorcery in 1749, and folks round here beleeved to the core of em that if you mess with the grave of a condemmed warlock, you be cursed feirce and all your family too. That is why Grandsire put all the Whateley gold underneeth that big flat marker stone; but he still know he couldn’t take no chances. That also be why he put up the Conjuration, cos it make it so anyone who might lift the marker stone wouldnt be able to see the gold in there. First I lift the stone with no trubble since I be stronger n most, and acourse don’t see nuthin save for the skeletin of Great Uncle Silas, but then I put my hankerchiff over the words on the wood slat so’s to block it out and just like that—that coffin be so fulla coins and gold nuggits Great Uncle’s skeletan be almost all covered with it. Also in there, in a metal box, is my own folder I been keepin for yeers, which contain all the most importint pages of the Necronomicon, the Remingius, and the Alko n Eltdown which I translate in to English so whoever come after me won’t have a tussle of a time understanding. Plus I also stick in my more recint diary payges not writ in cipher, for the same reason. But anyway I grab a few pieces of gold, then put the stone back to rights and take bak my hankerchiff. Wuz going to go bak to the tool house but stop without thinkin next to the crooked bush. Tis funny how a serious fancy can take a fella over, but see I am so fulla good feelins bout Sary that there I be again goin into the bush to beat myself off, my mind ful of what it be like to make love ta her. Cudnt stop myself, and I dang lost COUNT of how many times I done it just today, and that durn pile of my seed gettin bigger then a cow flop. But I get bak to the shed right qwik give Sary one of the old golden coins and say, “Here be some money so you don’t have no need to go do them things with men I spect ya mostly don’t like. Itd be a pleasure for you to stay here long as ya want. I wont bother ya none, and ye can go off n do what you want—just be keerful—and I’ll be here mostly doin my writing and gettin ready for my next trip to Miskatonic, what I think I already told you about.” She stand there sort of funny thinkin and lookin a mite odd at that coin which I guess is worth more n she make in a month of selling herself. She look like she WANT to take it but got to hezzitating, then her shoulders drop down and she tells me, “Wilbur I cant take this money, it wouldn’t be right. I already took quite a bit of yor good will, and Im not good with the idea of taking money I havnt erned.” “Naw, you just take it cos I don’t need it and you do, and be honest I didn’t earn it neether, ‘twas my grandsires,” and then I say she can earn it back by doin chores and such but in trooth I’d never have her do chores, and then I said, “Sides its already dark and there mite be trouble for you ta go walkin home in the dark what with all the scoundrels about,” and I got the idea to keep talkin maybe so to change the subject and get her mind offa leevin’ and I go on, “By the way, just where is it you live?” She sat back down on the cot, fingering that gold piece, and she tell me to my surprise, “I don’t really GOT no place to live now, not for a coupla yeers. I mainly been sleepin under the covered bridges or old basements when the weather’s fine, and durin winter, theres some men who—” She stopped splaining but I know that she was gonna say some men who pay ta fuck her let her sleep with them or in their barns or houses and such. Then I just keep on talking to keep her mind distrakted and say “So I take it yer folks don’t live round here no more or maybe died like my ma and grandsire?” Kinda bit my lip sayin that, feering that maybe her folks died bad or something and mite mess about her spirits, but she just said like it was nothin how her mother who she loved a lot died a couple uv years ago. Twas Doc Houghton who said she was took by her heart seezing up. But her father still live off the old Loveman Trail past Deans Corners, in a log cabin. I remember seeing a log-built cabin just where she say, and since there wasnt others like it on the trale, I figger that must be it, but then I ask “So you don’t stay there instead a sleepin under bridges and barns and what not, where its likely to be uncomfortable?” She didn’t seem at all bothered answerin, “No, I cud never stay with my pa no more on account of what he been doing to me since I was little.” I got all riled deep inside heering that becuz I hear about such things all the time in theese parts, but she just go right on talkin bout it, “yeah, he aint a good man atall. Got to fuckin me when I was real little, like four I guess, and he do it a lot, but then he stop doin that once I get the blood of eve and hair tween my legs, so he make me do him with my mouth instead cos he didnt want me ta get pregnant. Said if he got me pregnant, the baby ud likely be ugly as me and anythin that ugly shudn’t live. Yeah, so from then on he’d make do my mouth on his, well, you know, his dick, which he grow to like most of all. Said I did it so good hed make me do it to him four or five times a day, and if I fussed about it, hed wail the tar outa me. Twas him who knock all my front teeth out and he break my nose so many times it got crushed flat and wont never be normal again. Looks like a rotten tomaytuh. Broke my arm once too.” She shrug her shoulders then. “Always wonder bout what make people so bad like that. Do you know, Wilbur?” I was itchin with “ire” as my grandfather used to say, from what she say her father do to her, but I try not to show it, and say, “Well, Grandsire tell me many times that some folks is BORN bad and twerent nothin in life that make em that way. ‘N fact, he speculated that MOST folks are like that, and its why this world be so frightful. Said most folks are so bad and useless and dishonist and such that they aint fit to be here, that theres other things out theer, I mean like in the universe and such, that got more right ta be here than human folk, and I dare say I think he was right.” She look a bit confused by what I said, but then she said back, “Yeah, I know, LOT uv bad folks in these parts, and my pa? He be the worst I ever know. Hes just all sick in his head, I think. One time I member I was about 14 and he make me suck him off but I sed I didnt wanna, so he slap me silly till I cant see straight and next I know he’s draggin me out in the woods where he got a big hole dug, big as a grave, it was, so then he tie me up and throwed me in the bottum of that hole and first he pee on me and then you know what he did? He start BURYING me in that hole. He start shovelin’ the dirt in yellin’ bout how someone ugly as me in the face NEED to be buried just like garbage, and I’m down there cryin’ and screaming and he just keep shovelin’ in the dirt fixin’ to bury me alive but right when he wus just about to cover up my face, he stop and start laughin and tell me he is just jokin, but next time I say I don’t want to suck his dick, he’ll bury me for reel. So, well, from then on I suck him any time he say without a tiff cos it just aint worth it. Thats how evil that man be—oh, and heres sompthin else. See, when I wuz 17 my ma take me on a trip, only trip I ever been on. She take me near what she call the Big Water to a place called Innsmouth where she got a friend of hers she know since she was a child, and we staid there a whole month, and I cant tell you how nice it twuz to be away from my pa and not gettin hit and not having to suck him. I cried when it was time to go back to the log house, and I even think of running away, but I didn’t cos I know my pa wud blame my ma and beat her bad. But anyway when we get back, pa is all outa his wits mad, and first thing he do is lock my ma in the closet, then he drag me to the table ware there’s a fruiting jar a-settin, and then he tell me what he done. See, what he done was beat himself off 5 times a day each day I was in Innsmouth, and each time he cum in that jar, then skrew the lid on so his jism don’t dry up. THAT’s what he done, an I aint zajjerating. 5 TIMES A DAY for the WHOLE MONTH he cum in that jar! By the time ma and me get back, acorse, the jar was more n half filt with his beat off and twas a big jar too. My pa take that lid right off and make me drink it, he did, and he say if I didn’t swaller every drop, hed beat my ma and me feerce so, well, I had no choyce, so I drink it, and I tell you it tasted AWFUL it did, worse than normal on account most of it was spoilt. For a whole day I was put up sick with a bellyache like you wudn’t believe. And if that wasnt bad enuogh, last summer I think it be, I see him acrost the river pickin cattails, but I knowed he carn’t swim so he couldn’t come get me, but he yell over that ever sinct I run away from his house, he been savin up all his beat off in jars and one day he’d snatch me and take me back there and make me drink it all and then kill me. Jeez. I thought about that a long time, him makin me do that back then and wantin ta make me do it more, and it just make me hate him so much, but werse was how I got to wonderin about the difference tween bein bad and bein just plane EVIL, cos I knowed full well then that only someone pure EVIL could do somethin like that.” She shake her head.