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ONE WAY? (Part 2 of2) a Bizarre Border fantasy

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ONE WAY?

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

4845 words

Written 2008

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PART 1 is HERE

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Alarmed, I asked, “What's wrong? Isn't it healing?”

“Yes, Mr. Marks, it is. It's just the fastest healing surgical wound that I've ever seen!”

Deputy Redd was giving me a sideways look, a bit of a smile playing about his features. “You sure that you don't want to tell me a bit more, Josh?”

Sarcastically, I retorted, “He blasted me through the middle from behind with both barrels, just off to the left of the spine. I was too pissed off to die, in spite of a hole the size of the Holland Tunnel through me back to front. I hauled out my gun and shot him down. Then I fixed up my carcass best I could and called in. Faked the spleen injury to make it look good.

“While you were outside the door here, after we talked, Al came back to haunt me but I ripped off his ghost's arm and slugged him upside the head with it. Then I shoved both his head and arm up his ass and stomped him back to Hell, OK?”

To my surprise, the nurse said, “That makes better sense than your other story. I was in the surgery team that put you back together. We took out six stray pellets along a path between your front and back wounds. Your Aorta was under tension like after an aneurysm surgery, as if about an inch and a half had been taken out. It and a lot of the rest of the mess that we found all looked like new healed tissue. Now, you are almost ready for discharge after less than twenty four hours.”

Deputy Redd nodded, “Fits what I found out at your place and what I've seen here, too. All except for that haunt bit.”

Deputy Colsun stuck his head in the door and announced, “Redd, I need you out here. Both of the surviving Rankin brothers are out here, trying to get in.”

I closed my eyes and crawled out of the ol' carcass to look over my guests. Neither one had so much as a pocket knife. I opened my eyes and said, “Thanks, Deputy Colsun. Go ahead and let them in. Deputy Redd, have your gun ready, just in case.”

The Rankin brothers entered, full of anger, but sensibly not doing anything. I greeted them, “Will, Sandler. How you doing? Aside from that idiocy about trying to kill a man in the hospital, I mean.”

Sandler snapped, “You fuckin' murdered my brother! Al was unarmed.”

“Oh, really? How do you figure that, Sandler? I seem to recall a double barrel load of shot blasting through my abdomen.”

“Exactly! Al had a double gun and both barrels were empty when you shot him!”

“Still self defense, Sandler. He had four more cartridges in his shirt pocket and six in his right pants pocket. I just didn't give him time to reload. Fair didn't seem to be the order of the day, since he'd just shot me in the back at about two or three feet.”

Will snarled, “You lost all your rights when you got killed, damn you!”

I turned to the nurse, “You've been doing my vitals since I got here. Am I dead? Did I even code out?”

The nurse saw where that was going and grinned. “You've been alive the whole time. Too much so for my taste on occasion. Never even coded once, which, with a wound like yours, is almost a miracle.”

“Sorry, Will. Just didn't die, that's all. Al wasn't as lucky. Besides, I had that protective restraint order out on him because of that vandalism I caught him at. I know that it was served and so do you. You signed the witness to delivery line, just under Al's signature. Lawfully I was legal to kill him armed or no, just for being within a hundred fifty feet of my property line.”

I could feel relevant info trickling into my consciousness. It tickled just a bit, going in. I told them, “Of course you boys know all about how I was shot. You were on top of my south hill, watching Al ambush me. When it went sour, you two didn't hang about, did you? Didn't call for help or the Sheriff, either.

“Al's old truck is still at his place. Will's is in the shop after that stupid wreck. Not even your fault, Will. Sandler, you're famous for not letting anybody drive your rig and it left some beautiful tire tracks in that soft patch just shy of where you parked it. Your right rear has a big slash in the tread caused by that mesquite branch that you ran over last week. That tire track puts you there, Sandler.

“Will, you were in such a hurry to get out of there that you left the lens caps for your binoculars. They have several nice fingerprints on them. You are toast, too. Put at the scene by evidence left there and already found by the cops.

“Since you boys were with Al when he tried to murder me, you are accomplices before, and during the fact of attempted murder. Enjoy the State's hospitality for the next few years.”

Deputy Colsun simply put cuffs on the stunned pair. As he led them away, Sandler yelled, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!”

A few hours later, I was released by a very puzzled doctor as fit to go home. I was riding with Deputy Redd back out to my place. Softly, he asked me, “Josh, are you a witch-man?”

“Tell me what one is and I'll tell you. Short answer, I don't know. Weird stuff has been happening since Al shot me. That, I agree.”

We pulled up to my gate and Deputy Redd was considerate enough to open it up with my keys and drive me on up to the house. As we parted company on my porch, he asked softly, “You know some things that you got no way to know. I saw that happen. We have two files that are still open. One is an unidentified woman from a couple years ago. Body was found after scavengers got it. We never found her skull and there are a couple of odd things connected to the case.

“The other is our county's only unsolved murder. Poor sap was just a wetback. We'd have sent him home if we caught him. Thing is, somebody else got him first and lynched him. Maybe some places they'd just say hell with it, but it pisses us off to have a killer loose even if the only guy he's killed is a wetback.”

I pretended to think it over first but it wasn't even a close call. “Can't guarantee a thing, Deputy, but I'll be glad to look. If you have a bit of physical evidence directly connected to either victim, it might help. Might not, too. This is all new to me, OK?”

“Can't ask for better. I'll bring the things by tomorrow, Josh. See you then.” He was halfway to his truck when Deputy Redd turned and asked, “Ripped off Al's arm and slugged him across the head with it? Shoved his head up his ass and stomped him back to Hell? That was a true story, wasn't it?”

“Actually. Deputy, yes it was. Didn't think that anyone would believe it is all. Why?”

He grinned a big wide smirk and replied, as he got into his county truck, “Colsun overheard the tale. When he took the Rankin brothers in, he told the whole station. Everybody except the Rankin Brothers was laughing their heads off.” He drove off in a cloud of desert dust.

I went around to my chicken run. Al's rattlesnake was still there, curled up in a corner. It buzzed nervously when it saw me. This time I had a non-lethal answer for it. I used my ectoplasmic hand to pick it up and carry it safely far from the chickens. I found it a nice hole leading to a rat den and let it go.

I went back to the chicken run and used the same technique to gather the eggs and check feed and water. All well, I went back to the house. Where I found Al waiting for me.

He tried for another “ghostly wail” but I shoved an ectoplasmic fist down his throat. Setting my eggs down in a bowl by the sink, I started to rinse them. Next to Al, a large dog-like shape began to fade into existence. A Hell-Hound.

Al began to crow triumphantly, “Might mess with me, Marks, but there's no way that you can fuck with this monster!”

Mildly I replied, “For once in your whole existence, Al, you are right.” I turned to the Hell-Hound and said, “It is my understanding that you can speak. Is this so?”

A blacker than midnight head turned to gaze at me with eyes that, though also black, gave the impression of flames. It spoke, revealing far more and larger fangs than any earthly hound, “That is true. Why do you not flee or show terror?”

“I am a bit afraid, I'll admit freely. The rest is obvious. There's no point to it. Why run from what cannot be escaped? As for terror, courage, or what we sometimes call guts, consists of facing fear and dealing with it.

“If I must, I'll go with you freely and with no resistance. First, though, I'd like to do something to entertain us both. Let me deal with Al and then let us do whatever is necessary. Did you see what I did to him last time?”

The Hell-Hound grinned, displaying a canine-shaming degree of mouth armaments. It gave a very canine bark as it said, “I did. Many had laughter after the form allowed us.”

The ghostly Al purpled and tried to grow “Nightmare on Elm St.” type razor claws. His first swipe with them was his last. Dumb roundhouse swing. I ducked under it, grabbed his ectoplasmic arm and heaved. The arm and hand ripped off. My return cut was a low line rising swing just fractionally following a poke at his eyes with my free hand. Al's own Freddy Kruger kit carved right up through his prominent gut.

I followed my slash by a grab and scoop that spilled Al's ghostly intestines on the deck. It looked like he could still feel what was happening to him because he doubled up in agony. I pulled out his large intestine and cut it free at the inside of his anus and shoved the end of his gut down his own throat. I tied his hands and feet together with the rest of his intestines.

“You are so full of your own shit, Al, that you might as well get it direct from the source,” I told him as I stomped him down through the floor. It looked like it was going to be a really long fall.

I turned to the Hell-Hound and said, “Was that as much fun for you as it was for me?”

Thumping its tail, the Hell-Hound replied, “Very nearly, I expect. Shall we go?”

“Since I agreed to, yes. Is there a particular hurry?”

“Not really. It will only delay the inevitable, though.”

“If it helps, I agree about that, too. What were you sent here to do, exactly?”

“I was sent to bring your soul to Judgment before the Three.”

“Don't I have to be dead for that to happen?”

Wagging his tail hesitantly, the Hell-Hound said, “That is so. You must be dead or alive by an unlawful resurrection.”

“Got a question for you then. Can you tell if I fit your rules or do you just grab and say, 'OOPS!' if you're wrong?”

Almost testily the Hell-Hound replied, “Of course I can tell. I just need to smell and taste your blood to know.”

I held out my hand, saying, “I hope that you don't have to do me an injury to find out. I'm fond of that hand.”

Incredulously, the creature asked, “You will trust me not to injure you?”

I shrugged, “Same as above. I couldn't stop you if I tried, so there's no point in trying. Besides, unlike Al, you have behaved with both honor and restraint, so far.”

“You are very different from the usual among the Damned. I will not harm you.” He sank the point of one of his canines into the back of my hand almost to bone and pulled it back. As blood began to well up, he ran his tongue across my hand. It left a trace of first degree burn redness but healed the hole without a trace.

The Hell-beast looked almost disappointed. He pronounced, “You are not my prey. To kill in self defense is lawful. You used no sorcery to live through the mortal wound. You simply refused to fully leave your body and found a way to repair the damage before the death of the body. I must go back.”

I sat and put a hand on his back. “I wish that you wouldn't. Think. You were sent to get me. Was there a time limit set?”

“No. You want a Hell-Hound to stay with you?”

“Sure. I like you. You have been absolutely fair with me and that says a lot. Since no time limit was set, I'd like you to accompany me to my proper place of Judgment when my time comes. Be it Hell or Heaven, I said I'd go with you, and I will. In the meantime, stay here with me. You'll still do your duty but get a bit of a vacation, if you want it.”

The creature simply sat down next to me and said, “We might be together for a long time. The things that you have learned can be used to keep you young, you know.”

I patted his back and replied, “I sorta figured that out. So, you staying, then?”

“For so long as I am welcome, I shall be your friend, Josh Marks.”

“You need a name while you're here. How do you like Hellfang?”

“That is a good name for me. I never had a name before.”

“Say, Hellfang, if Al really is going to haunt me, we could have a lot of fun. You must have some purely delightful ideas.”

Tail thumping on the floor, Hellfang said, “You are right. I do.”

---The End---

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#ONE WAY?#Part 2 of 2 #Bizarre Border #written by De Writer

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