Zola wasn't sure
about the man who came into her shop an hour ago. He looked strange,
with his black ruffled hair and pock-marked face, small screwed down
eyes that danced around like a Mexican jumping beans. He was stout,
more chubby than muscular, and wore an old tattered army jacket that
was too small for him. He walked in between the narrow wooden
bookshelves aimlessly, looking lost. He skimmed the pamphlet racks,
racing fingers flipping through the flimsy card stock.
Every once in awhile
he would lift his head up and his black beady eyes would meet Zola's
large brown eyes. She had an odd sensation run through her bones.
Almost....a connection.
Zola didn't want to
approach him. Especially since April wasn't there. April had worked
with her for five years, and twice in that time she was with Zola
when the shop was robbed. April foiled one robbery by tossing her hot
coffee in the mans face, then smacking him with a deluxe edition of
the PICKWICK PAPERS. The second time didn't go so smoothly. April
tried the same trick, but the robber only stood there with steaming
hot coffee dripping from his scowling face. He smacked April across
the face with his other hand, bloodying her lip. They gave him the
forty-three dollars from the till and he ran down the street, never
to be seen again. The police said that was an unsolved case.
So, yeah, Zola felt
safe when April was around, only that day, April was off.
Zola had always
wanted to run a book shop, just not a New age book shop. The previous
owner, Delores Dean, Madame D, as her followers called her, sold the
shop to Zola five years ago with one stipulation: Zola keep the name
(SERENITY BOOKS), which was no problem. The second thing was
readings. Zola never pretended to know how to do that crap, nor
believe in that whole psychic stuff.
At first, it was
okay, because Madame D did the reading for the first three months,
teaching Zola and April what to say and how to read tea leaves. Then
Madame D died suddenly in her sleep. Hell, she was eighty three, and
claimed she was sixty-one. She was a very nice old woman, but, as
Zola saw it, more than just a ditzy broad----she was crazy as shit.
Zola had been moving
away from that New age tripe the past three years,making it more into
a legitimate bookstore. And lately, only doing the occasional tea
reading when one of Madame D's old weirdo clients would show up.
Zola had not had one of them in at least a year.
She sat behind the
register on her over-sized plush pillow, watching the strange man on
the crappy security camera, hoping he was just a kook and not a shop
lifter or worse.
When she looked away
from the security camera to get her coffee, then back to it, the
strange man was gone. Zola looked again and made a noise. She heard a
grunt and the strange man was standing at the cash register, his dim
eyes staring a hole through Zola. She jumped from her chair
nervously, dropping her cup to the floor.
“I've got
something for you,” The strange man said.
“What?” Zola
said, fumbling her words. She swallowed hard.
“There's something
I'm suppose to give you,” He said in a sing-song voice. He reached
inside his army jacket. He took out a glowing oval shaped crystal.
'Here,” He offered.
Zola shook her head,
dismayed a bit. “I don't want it.”
The strange man's
upper lip curled. “Take it,” He growled and pushed it into her
hands.
Zola almost dropped
the glowing oval. Light spewed every which way, blinding Zola for a
few seconds. When she recovered, she noticed the strange man was
gone.
“Hey!” She
called out. “Hey, look, I—I don't want this...whatever it is!”
There was no answer.
No sound of his boots on the floorboards, or the slamming of the door
of the shop. He just vanished.
Zola sat the glowing
oval on the cash register. She sighed.
*******************************************************
“He just came
right up to you and handed the glowing globe to you?” April said,
took a sip from her beer.
They were in Zola's
studio apartment and had tried to enjoy a movie and a few beers, but
this incident had Zola's mind twisted like a pretzel.
“Forced it on me,”
Zola came from the kitchen holding a bottle of vodka in her hands.
She sat on the puke green sofa beside April. “He forced that damn
thing on me. When I touched it, it began to pulsate.....like it was
alive. Lights just....went everywhere....weird.”
Zola turned down the
TV, The Searchers was on, which fit into their criteria of Western
night. Every Wednesday was Western night, but lately since April
began dating a cook from Gus' bar, the two of them hadn't spent much
time together outside of work.
“I'm never going
to see the ending to this movie,” April bit her lower lip.
“Something always happens when we watch this movie.”
“If you hadn't
been with that nutcase, he wouldn't have terrorized us. You could
have already seen the ending.” Zola drank straight from the vodka
bottle and gagged as it burned her throat.
“Yeah....you let
me know about that every time we have Western night. I know, I know.
He was crazy.”
“That's all that
stupid thing does,” Zola tried to kick the glowing oval and
missed. She fell over on April and quickly straightened herself.
“It's like a forever flashlight. All evening...don't laugh..I heard
a voice coming from that thing.”
April stiffened. Her
dark eyes moved from side to side. “Listen,” She whispered.
They listened
together. There was a scuffle coming from the bathroom. Zola breathed
uneasy and April shushed her. They gripping each others hands way
too tight, leaving red marks pale pink skin. The noise had turned
into a sputter, then sounding like someone was scrubbing with a hard
sponge on the sink.
They exchanged
curious looks.
April stood, pulling
Zola to a standing position. She began to walk, but Zola resisted.
April pulled again as if she were tugging on a leash. Zola shook her
head no. April grit her teeth and lowered her eyebrows. She was
giving Zola her “cool Clint Eastwood” look when she was getting
upset with her.
Zola sighed,
relented.
April led Zola by
the hand, slowly to the bathroom. The door was partially closed, only
a nightlight provided a source of light. As they passed the closet,
April swooped up a baseball bat that had belonged to Zola's brother
when he played baseball in high school.
They heard a
flutter of wings.
Again they exchanged
curious looks.
April kicked the
bathroom door open. A tall, winged man in a dark suit stood perched
on the toilet
He was shuffling his
wings, and had in the small darkness away from the nightlight, held
his head close to his folded arms. He lift his head up to reveal a
face resembling a vulture. He squawked angrily. Two large yellow
eyes were glowing, and in mere moments, had turned to a scorching
red.
Zola screamed. She
turned April's hand loose and ran for cover. April swung the baseball
bat wildly, missing the vulture by a mile. The bat took out the
bottles of lotion and other assorted perfumes that were on a shelf
above the vulture. It tried to take flight and at that time the bat
caught the vulture on the beak.
There was a loud
crunch. The vulture's beak split in half. It let out a cry
reminiscent of an animal caught in a trap. Black liquid squirted
from the wound and sprayed the sink and toilet. The vulture flapped
its wings frantically, called out for help in a high pitched squeal.
A wing clocked April on her forehead. She spun around and dropped the
bat. The vulture fell first to the linoleum floor. April followed,
face first in the black liquid the vulture was spewing.
April just lay
there, stuck in the gooey black liquid. After a few minutes, Zola
slowly made an appearance in the doorway. She gasped, reached down to
help April to her feet. April steadied herself with a hand on Zola's
shoulder.
She looked back, and
the vulture had turned to black soot.
“What the hell,
Zola?” April said wearily.
Zola just shrugged.
****************************************************
They arrived at
the book shop just in time to open at nine. It mattered little for
Zola and April to rush. There was only two customers waiting. A woman
in bright green pants suit and an elderly gentleman, who asked a
certain gentleman’s magazine that could only be purchased at an
erotic goods shop down the street.
Neither was speaking
to the other, concerning last nights misadventure. A lot of quick
glances and chilly demeanor that would have iced over the floor they
stood on. Zola fixed the til. April walked around in a huff, placing
books on the shelves that were laying around.
April went to the
stockroom to place her lunch in the small refrigerator. Seconds
later, she Calmly reentered the sales floor.
“Zola?” She
called out in an even tone.
“Yes?” Zola said
in her best business voice.
“Could you please
come into the stockroom?” April said, moved a few strands of blond
hair from her eyes.
“I'm kind of busy,
April,” Zola snapped.
“Oh, no you
aren't. Not too busy to see this,” April said through clenched
teeth.
'Fine!” Zola
slammed the register shut. She stomped her way across the sales floor
to the stockroom, eying April the whole time.
April stayed, folded
her arms, leaned against a bookshelf containing Science fiction
books. She counted to five, then heard Zola scream.
Zola backed out of
the stockroom, her hand over mouth. She was shaking, holding a green
army coat in the other hand. April touched Zola's shoulder, rubbed it
gently.
“Was that the man
that gave you the glowing globe?” April asked in a whisper.
Zola nodded slowly.
“He's....he's just hanging there.”
“It's not all of
him,” April walked into the stockroom. Zola followed reluctantly.
“I don't know what's going on, Zola. But it's bad. Real bad.
The man was nothing
more than an empty husk, naked skin, no bones, that make a human
outline. He was hanging from the lowest rafter. Hanging a long metal
rod attached to a hook that was embedded deep into the back of what
was the man's neck.
Zola wouldn't look
at it. She kept her head down, her eyes to her shoes.
“I don't know what
to do?” She said, still shaking.
“We have to get
him down. Dispose of him.” April pulled on the meaty husk's legs,
tearing from the hook slightly. It made a deep ripping noise, and
Zola shivered. She took a couple of steps back, averting her eyes
from the slinking hanging body.
“What----what
about the police?” Zola's voice broke. “They have to know---”
“Know what?”
April screamed. “Think about it, Zola. Would you believe a giant
vulture in a suit was perched on your toilet? How about a strange man
giving out glowing balls and then shedding his skin? Screw the cops!”
April yanked at the
man's legs and he came away from the hook, opening up his neck. Black
liquid oozed out as the empty husk fell to the concrete floor with a
loud thud.
“Oh, God....i'm
going to be sick....” Zola cupped her mouth with both hands, pushed
by April to the bathroom behind a row of back stock of paperback
books.
“For fuck's sake,
Zola!” April called out to her. “You need to be tougher than that
in this world!
You can't be the
fainting damsel in distress and some asshole comes to your rescue!”
The alleyways at two
in the morning were not safe at all. April and Zola hadn't much
choice, especially if they were discarding a body. Even if that body
is only an empty vessel. People generally have issues with finding
human remains in their trash cans.
The empty husk was
easy to place into a trunk. They just rolled him into a meaty ball
and pushed him inside. Of course Zola couldn't handle it. She dashed
off to the bathroom to empty the contents of her stomach.
When the bookshop
closed, April and Zola loaded the trunk on a dolly and rolled it to
Zola's S-10 pickup. As they were struggling to lift the trunk on the
bed of the truck, two men passing by, stopped and helped. One with
curly black hair chatted April up, she excepted his cell phone number
out of respect for his help. Zola, not really interested, had the
other, muscle-bound, bald, man talk her ears off. He tried to give
her his number, she declined, telling him she was married. He refused
to believe it. He also forgot to remove his own wedding ring.
Getting the body and
trunk out of the back of the pick-up truck was an entirely different
farce. Argument after argument, and an hour later, the trunk was on
the pavement. Zola had the lead, a hand gripping the trunk's
handle,dragging it across the cobble pavement. April was in the back,
pushing. They were headed toward the dumpsters behind a pizza
carry-out. They stopped. They heard flapping of wings. Lowly, there
was cooing.
The moon had just
settled behind dark clouds in the night sky. A harsh darkness had
over come them.
“Shit,” April
said. “I can't even see my hand in front of face.”
“What is that
noise....I'm scared, April.” Zola said.
April sighed. “Me
too, Zola.” Somehow, in the darkness, they had found each others
hands. April pulled Zola to her. They held each other close. Zola
tried to stifle her sobs. The harder she tried, the louder they
became. Soon, April chimed in with Zola, only a more raspy weeping.
Suddenly, as if a
light had been switched on, a bright orange hue surrounded April and
Zola. Seconds later the spotlight grew to show their guests.
It must have been
fifty vultures in black suits in a long chain around April and Zola.
All of them had their heads bowed, their arms folded across their
chests. Their black silken wings were against their backs, flapping
ever so gentle, like a cat swinging its tail playfully.
Zola drew in a
breath. April cursed in a whisper.
“Don't move,”
April ordered.
“I don't think I
can,” Zola said. “I'm petrified.”
“Oh....my....God....”
April gasped.
A hundred more
vultures had joined the others. These were dressed differently. Most
of them wore long flowing, multicolored robes. They carried staffs
with glowing balls attached. others were dressed like they were from
the sixteen hundreds, short cloaks—hip length---linen shirts with
ruffs, doublets with long sleeves sewn in, and stockings with flat
shoes.
They were marching
down the pavement in a scuttle, all in a long line that resembled a
conga line. They stopped and bowed their heads just like the other
vultures in black suits. In the time it took those strange vulture
people to convene, two more vultures in loin cloths and bare feet
came jogging down the alley, holding two long bamboo sticks
haphazardly nailed to a throne that would cause Henry 8th
to turn green with envy. Upon that throne sat another, more regal
dressed vulture, a flowing red robe and several golden chains around
its feathered neck. The regal vulture held a staff in one hand and
a glowing sphere in another, which the light from it blinded April
and Zola when the regal vulture came closer. The conga line parted,
the two vultures carrying the throne danced a zig zag, then sat the
throne and its honor down gently.
All of the vultures
knelt. They reared their heads backwards and a terrible screeching
cry sounded from their black beaks.
“What the fuck is
this?!” April yelled, holding her hands up to shield the light from
the glowing sphere.
“Oh, God....”
Zola fell to knees, clutching her chest and moaning like a wounded
animal.
They were marching
down the pavement in a scuttle, all in a long line that resembled a
conga line. They stopped and bowed their heads just like the other
vultures in black suits. In the time it took those strange vulture
people to convene, two more vultures in loin cloths and bare feet
came jogging down the alley, holding two long bamboo sticks
haphazardly nailed to a throne that would cause Henry 8th
to turn green with envy. Upon that throne sat another, more regal
dressed vulture, a flowing red robe and several golden chains around
its feathered neck. The regal vulture held a staff in one hand and
a glowing sphere in another, which the light from it blinded April
and Zola when the regal vulture came closer. The conga line parted,
the two vultures carrying the throne danced a zig zag, then sat the
throne and its honor down gently.
All of the vultures
knelt. They reared their heads backwards and a terrible screeching
cry sounded from their black beaks.
“What the fuck is
this?!” April yelled, holding her hands up to shield the light from
the glowing sphere.
“Oh, God....”
Zola fell to knees, clutching her chest and moaning like a wounded
animal.
April went to her
friend. Weeping, she touched Zola on her back. “Zola, what is it?
Please tell me what's going on....”
“She will be
fine...as soon as she gives us what we have come for.” A voice
floated to April's ears, like waves from a calm sea. April rose,
dumbstruck. The voice came from the regal vulture. April couldn't
place the voice. She thought about it, and clarity and realization
came at once. It was the former bookshop owner, Madam D.
“You.....” April
pointed. “Madam....D?” She let the name roll off her tongue like
a taste of a bad milk.
“My human
name....yes. It is I.” The regal vulture said.
April looked down at
Zola writhing on the hard cobblestone, still moaning, calling out for
help.
“Who are you?”
April said.
“If I told you who
we were, it would only confuse you. You could never grasp the concept
of our nature, nor our reasoning for existence, nor the world we came
from. What I will tell you, is that we are not of this world. We
were trapped here a century ago, caught in a mystic time slip that
hovers between your dimension and...ours. Zola had been chosen to
carry the light which will take us home. She can help us in the final
stage to carry us back to our world.
“The strange man
that had given Zola the sphere of flight, was one of us. He had been
a keeper of the inner light for nigh on a decade. He shed his human
skin, as I did when the communion became apparent. He then became the
protector of the inner light.
“The one who was
murdered in Zola's house....”
April flinched, drew
in a nervous breath. She remembered what she had done to one of their
own.
“One you
murdered.” The regal vulture turned loose the glowing sphere and it
rose in the air, floated to Zola. It tapped the cobblestone with its
staff. “If only you two had followed instructions, you could have
accompanied us on our journey home.”
The vultures in
black suits hummed menacingly in unison. They turned their gaze to
April, yellow eyes turning fire red. From the middle of their
gathering, a black suit clad brother levitated, and as if a fierce
wind had picked it up and brought it face to face with April. The
vulture growled.
April took a step
backward, the vulture reached out, three elongated grimy fingers took
hold of her face. She winced, fear exploded inside her. April shook
violently, tried to speak, instead it was a low whine. The vulture
moved its three fingers around her face to find her eyes, and then
her open mouth, where those fingers found a home. The fingertips
eased itself into her eye sockets, further exploring the two
bloodied holes.
April screamed in
agonizing pain.
The last finger
drove itself deep into her mouth. A powerful light was extracted and
entered the vulture's fingers. Electricity unbounded and became a
wiry orange fence surrounding him. In a flash the light disappeared
inside his chest. The vulture removed its long grimy fingers from
April's face.
She fell, lifeless,
to the cobblestone, a black ink dripped from her sightless eyes.
Zola hovered above
the crowd of vultures in black suits and flowing robes. A ball of
bright orange shot from her midsection and tore open the night sky.
It peeled open like fingers pulling a grapefruit apart from the
center. Still levitating, Zola felt as if she were dreaming. She was
groggy, and all the muscles in her body tight, useless. She opened
her droopy eyelids, saw the vultures below her disrobing. The regal
vulture was first to remove all clothing, spread its wings and take
flight. The action was like one long slow motion segment in a Sam
Peckinpah film.
The rest of the
vultures were soon in the night sky, a hundred or so of them, flying
toward that orange light, disappearing into that black chasm.
*****************************************************
Zola awoke the next
morning, lying on the cobblestone next to April's limp body. Trash
men found her. One trash man stayed in his truck and called the
police. The other one helped Zola to her feet, asked if she was all
right.
She didn't answer
his question. She looked up at the sky and said, “They're gone. All
of them. They're gone.”
“You need to go to
the hospital or something,” The trash man told her. “You hit your
head or something.”
A vulture circled
the trash truck a few times and landed on the back of it. Zola
started to shake, gripped the trash man's hands.
“It's okay,” The
trash man said. “Nothing to be afraid of. Can't get rid of those
damn things.”
Zola swallowed hard.
She shook her head. “They have to go back home,” She said, a wild
shrieking laugh erupted from her. “They have to go home.”
