When Graveyards Yawn by G. Wells Taylor (popular books to read txt) đ
- Author: G. Wells Taylor
- Performer: -
Book online «When Graveyards Yawn by G. Wells Taylor (popular books to read txt) đ». Author G. Wells Taylor
âGet Uriel,â Tommy muttered. âHeâll know what to do.â
âYes,â the priest said quietly. âBut rest for now.â
âIâm tired,â Tommy worked his lips then fell asleep.
I watched the priest shake his head and cross himself. He picked up a book from the bedside table, sat down and leafed through it. I could tell he wasnât interested in what he read by the glances heâd throw at Tommy with the turn of each page. âDear Lord,â he mumbled, then after a few seconds of staring; he turned to the book to take his reading more seriously.
I floated overhead trying to recall my own strange dream, but the images flitted away from me like sparrows from a belled cat. Ghosts, I thought. Spooks. I was taken up by a hallucination of utter blackness. It was beautiful.
I woke up before Tommy, and for a few seconds watched him snore on the pillows below. The Priest sat slumped in his chair. I wondered what had put the driven look on his face. Whatever had happenedâthe Changeâit hadnât been easy on the faithful. Greasetown sure looked like damnation to me and I only used the Bible to flatten cockroaches. What would the Change be like for a believer?
I tried to content myself by floating close to the rough stucco ceiling. I wasnât sure, but I got the feeling it had been shaped and textured into an apostle or something. For a religion that warned against idolatry, they sure had a lot of idols. I couldnât blame them. The human race needed idolsâmade idols of everything. I had read in an old magazine that at one point in history, however briefly, people had idolized and bought the musical recordings of talking and singing raisins. Was I going to fault the Christians for the odd saint? I looked down again and pondered. Tommy was exerting more and more influence during my possessions, a development that gave me pause to wonder. Was I losing my ability to overpower him? Not a pleasant prospect for someone who was little more than a puff of wind. I was in no position to be giving anything away.
To the best of my knowledge I was the only one of my kind. The only reason I believed this was that if there were others, one of them would have gone public by now. My old rule again, of believing in the inevitability of everything. If I was dissipating, what awaited me? Blacktime forever? That notion was less than inviting. The living worry about losing their bodiesâhell, even the dead worry about the condition of their own. I had nothing left to lose but myself.
The universe would do the big Alzheimerâs on me. Poof, youâre nothing. A part of me had to ask the question. Whatâs wrong with that? I couldnât answer it. I only knew that this was close to life, if it wasnât life, and I was determined to hang onto it, since I had no guarantee there was anything more. The prospect of nothingness loses its attraction the closer you get to it. No wonder so many suicides died screaming. I had to keep focused. I knew I had to finish this case. Even though Tommyâs body was not mine I had a certain possessive nature towards it. The Handyman had been torturing me as much as my host. Someone had hired the Handyman. I wanted that someone on the loud end of my gun. Also, I wasnât sure why, but I wanted to see some sort of justice done. Someone had to pay. It was still wrong to murder.
Review the case. Yes, simple enough. So far I had done nothing but bungle my way from mistake to mistake. I had paid dearly for allowing myself to be led by the players in the play. It was a gamble that I had almost lost. And it seemed that Tommy was working on something now, something that ran on a parallel course to my own case. Parallel, yes, but not the same case. Some strange twist of life had intertwined two ugly stories. I had stumbled upon something, just as Adrian and Van Reydner had stumbled upon something at the Morocco. But what?
A real baby would be big business, and it was obvious from Skullfaceâs discussion on Regenerics that Dr. Cotton would need a baby for his theories to work. The problem was, he wasnât the only one who would jump at the chance to claim one. Every crackpot in the world would herald it as a messiah, or the great evil one. A baby in a world that no longer had them would be priceless. But there were no such things as babies.
Even with my ego, I found it difficult to inflate my career with Tommy to date. A few missing persons. A burglary, a host of cheating spouses. Nothing but stiffs, cheap diamonds and stiffs. Why would Billings come to me? I remembered writing the name down, the same that both Harker and Mrs. Cotton had mentioned. Inspector Borden of Authority. Funny, Borden told Billings to talk to me. He told Mrs. Cotton to be a good girl and donât dig too deep into her husbandâs death. As Harker told me, he was also the Authority contact for the phantom baby reports. There was a theme beginning to take shape and it smelled of dirty diapers. A baby cried late one night at the Morocco Hotel, and everyone who heard it died or disappeared. Now this Owen Grey character. Who was he? Some washed-out detective looking for a missing person. What the hell interested him in the baby? Whatever his involvement, he was gone too.
I looked down at Tommy and noticed that the covers were forming a fair-sized circus tent below his midriff. With little effort, I stepped into his head. My first impulse was to cry out. Pain and pleasure momentarily vied for dominance. I was always amazed at how alike the two sensations were. Pain won out. I gritted my teeth and hissed into a sitting position. The priestâs eyelids fluttered like doves. He looked at me with concern, and half-levered himself out of his chair.
âYou shouldnâtâŠâ
âLetâs not debate the right and wrong of it, Father.â My shoulder throbbed, my head throbbed, my neckâI hurt all over.
âButâŠâ The priest stepped over to the bed.
âBut Iâm not going to get any better moving around. Donât worry. Iâll stay put. I just want to sit up.â Fire lanced along my back as I pushed myself against the headboard.
âItâs strangeâŠâ His eyes squinted at me.
âWhatâs that?â I could barely hear over the jackhammer in my head.
âOh, itâs strange, something, something. Donât you mind just now! Iâll get you food. You need food.â He headed for the door. âYou must be exhaustedâ
âI can wait. I just wanted to ask you a few questions first.â I tried to smile, but it hurt its way into a grimace. Suddenly, I realized I was without makeup. I slid a hand over my chin. Lovely feeling.
âIâm curious aboutâŠâ I started, then my mind blanked. âOh damn, it was right there. What the hell was it?â
âYou have had a lot of strain put upon you,â the priest shook his head. âRest, is what you need. Food, not questions.â
âSureâŠâ I said, puzzled. The priest walked to the door, smiled, and left. I ran my hand over my face again and relished the sweet familiarity. Fine stubble grew there. It had always been a nightmare to shave regularly. I was due. I looked at my bare chest, felt the shallow depression of the scars. The door opened, and Elmo entered. He had a small case in one hand and a tall Styrofoam coffee cup in the other. He smiled shyly, like he was a girl at a sock hop and I was a boy. Then his eyes went wide.
âYou okay, Boss?â He set the bag on the bed and the coffee on the bedside table. âFather says itâs okay I come see you.â He looked hesitant.
âYeah, Fatso. Aces. Good job you got me here. Did you have any more trouble?â I lifted the plastic lid on the coffee. My stomach fluttered.
âNo, I just drove around all n-night, then stepped into the office quick, this morninâ.â He sat down in the chair by the bed. âThe f-father said heâs makinâ you breakfast. Had to call somebody.â Then he frowned.
âWhat is it Fatso?â
He rubbed his chin. âMust be cause I never seen you in some time without noâŠâ Elmo gestured to his face. No makeup. âAnd them b-bruisesâŠbutâŠâ
âWhat about it?â
âYou look different, I guess.â He rubbed his right forearm. I noticed the holes in his shirt. âI know you put on weight, butâŠâ
âChrist, I almost forgot! You got shot last night. Are you all right? What happened?â I scanned my dead gunselâs chest.
Elmo pushed his jacket away from his left side, and then absentmindedly drilled a finger into one of the three bullet wounds in his chest. I heard a sickening fibrous sound like old burlap. âI was waitinâ like you said, but then, I figured you was away for too longâand I thought anyway, I could check in with you and still cover your back, âcause the elevator was brokeâand, and trouble would come up the stairs.â He shifted nervously. âI got up to the r-room, and you wasâwere gone. Then, I looked around and found a fire âscape sign, and a door. The door was open, so I knew you was either wanderinâ around outside, or there was some kinda trouble.
âI stepped quick out the door and saw two b-big fellas carryinâ you down the stairs. There was this other guy too, and he had a gun. Shot me three times. Small bullets though, so I ainât too bad off. But I can feel them in there if I walk too fast. Need some duct tape is all.â He smiled.
âChrist, Elmo. I guess youâre lucky they didnât torch you or something worse.â
âI guess they mustâa figured I was a living p-person, âcause they didnât check on me. I just got knocked down and I stayed down. Then, I followed them, when they forgot about me. They took you down to the basement through the service elevator. But a big guy, an Enforcer, he guarded the door. I had to sneak back up the stairs and find a way to the basement inside. Iâm sorry I was kind of late.â
âDonât worry about it, Elmo. An Enforcer?â My head was reeling. âAuthority?â
âAll rubber and steel, like.â Elmo traced a large block shape with his hands.
âThen you started a diversion to give me escape time.â
âNo, Boss.â Elmo rubbed a forearm again, abashed. âI kinda surprised another Enforcer by m-mistake. We shot it out. But I got away.â
âGood work.â I rubbed my chin, then noticed Elmoâs mouth fall openâagog.
âBoss, things is looking differentâŠâ
âI know itâs different.â I was beginning to enjoy the sensation of a clean skin. I was also beginning to wonder why Tommy hadnât run for the makeup, or thrown me out as he had done on other occasions when Iâd attempted to take the damn stuff off. Unless he was unaware. âYouâve got the makeup, Elmo?â
âYeah, yeah.â He reached over and patted the case. âAnd clothes.â
My mind suddenly clicked. I swung my legs off the bed. âYou said the Father was going to make a call. Damn!â I winced as I struggled out of the bedding. âElmo, heâll probably call Authority. âIâve got this poor abused guy at my church, see.â You just said there was an Enforcer involved last night. Quick! Give me my clothes!â I struggled into a fresh coverall. This
Comments (0)