A Friend You Haven't Met: Part Seven

 

To everyone’s surprise I turned over to the side of the road and parked. With the engine still thrumming I fumbled out the watcher, opened it, and adjusted the readings.

“What’s the matter?” asked Tim.

“What’s going on up there?” Roth barked.

“Just a minute, just a minute.” My head was whirling with surmises. I closed the device and sat, eyes closed and hands clamping my head to exclude distractions, and finally had an undivided think.  I opened my eyes.

“Tim, how is Maggie doing?”

“She is still here, but very faint. Perhaps we should get moving again?”

“Was there any change in her condition while we were driving?”

“For a while she seemed a little more solid, but it’s worse now.” The old man sounded exasperated. “Can we go?”

“Yes indeedy,” I said, revving up the engine, and in four fast jerky moves I had turned us around and was heading back the way we came.

“Can you remember the spot where she looked better?” I asked.

“Well, no,” Tim spluttered. “I was watching her. What are you doing?”

“I remember, if he don’t,” Roth butted in. Tim’s dismay was obvious. “There was a sign by three trees that snagged my eye. Couldn’t read it, but I can tell you when we get there. What’s goin’ on?”

“If I’m right,” I said, eye on the road, “When our evil little friend came into this world he was flailing, expending his influence trying to grab up extra power, lighting up every extranatural phenomenon in resistance to his probe. But now he’s drawn himself in and is trying to hide. Still too powerful for the watcher to get a direct bead on him, but little critters like Maggie there …”

“They’ll get stronger the closer they get and interact with its aura!” Korm concluded excitedly.

“Bingo!” I exclaimed. The Morg looked confused. “I mean, that’s exactly what I’m thinking. We can use Maggie as a divining rod to locate wherever our nasty guest has set up his new hotel.”

“Then we can stomp it and get the hell back home,” growled Roth. “I don’t know about you, Korm, but I’ve had enough of this crazy world.”

“That’s unfair! We’ve hardly seen it,” Korm said. “And not under the best circumstances, I have to say.” He patted the back of my car seat as if to soothe me. “I’m sure it’s really a lovely place, Mister Bob.”

“It has its good points,” I conceded. “And I’m glad you think so. Because if you boys ain’t magical and don’t know how to open that door again, you might be spending quite some time here.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Korm looked stricken, then brightened up. “I’m sure our wizard will come looking for us, when he’s recovered.”

“Well, I wish he were here now; he might come in very handy. In the meantime, we’ll have to try to get rid of this beastie ourselves.”

“And what happens to Maggie if you do?” I started a little in surprise. I had assumed that when I was talking to the Morgs it was in their language; apparently whatever I said was understood by everybody, and that included Tim. I drove awhile, looking ahead, before I answered.

“I really couldn’t say,” I said. I shrugged. “When I worked at the Bureau, I heard some theories. I imagine she’ll go back again to wherever she was all these years.”

“She’s not going to go into my head, is she?” he asked anxiously. “I don’t know if I could take the thought of that.”

“No, I’m pretty sure she’s externalized now,” I said evenly. I scanned the road ahead. “Especially after so many years. How’s she doing?”

“Hard to say,” the answer came. “I was looking away for a bit. Maybe a little better?”

“Keep your eye on her. This could be crucial.”

Another silence.

“So what are these theories, then? I’ve got to admit, this is strange as all get out, and creepy, but I’m still fond of the old girl. She won’t suffer, will she? She won’t just … be gone?”

I could hear the plaintive doubt in his words. I sighed.

“I tell you, Tim, I don’t know. But the theory I heard – and it’s just a working theory, you understand – the theory is that every human being is made up of a body, a spirit, and a soul, okay?”

“Like in Aristotle?”

“Yes, good, you remember that. Well, the body is obvious, and the soul is the immortal part that makes us us, as it were, but spirit is the gumphas that attaches them. The spirit is as mortal as the body, and it is the decayed bits that hang around as ghosts, whatever the destination of the soul is.”

“Oka-a-ay.” This sort of talk was obviously making the old friar uncomfortable.

“Well, occasionally a bit of a living spirit gets nipped off and begins developing its own personality and existence. A religious lady I worked with held that they, like anything people really love, will be redeemed with their own true reality in the new Heaven and Earth. So animals, works of art, even objects like a favorite old sewing machine or a beloved doll, will be part of the new Creation. They have no eternal existence on their own, but the love from an immortal soul might imbue them with immortality. Meanwhile, in this world they decay and die like anything else. Even imaginary friends like your Maggie there has a limited existence.”

I changed lanes, just to create a little diversion while that sank in.

“Anyway, that’s what I’ve heard,” I concluded.

“There!” Roth suddenly barked, sticking his muzzle over the seat and pointing eagerly with one black claw. “That signpost up ahead! That’s the place!”

“Oho!” I gave Bessie a little gas. “How’s she lookin’?”

“I think … I think … Yes!” Timmy said excitedly. “She is getting more solid!”

“Hot dang, we’re on the trail! Hold onto your hats, fellas, ‘cause here we go!”

For all my eager words I only went a little faster and slowed down almost to a crawl as we got near the sign. It was one of those town advertisements, and it read “St. Helwig: Seven Miles”. The towering hackberry trees that obscured its fading graphics told me it had been neglected for quite some time. A washed-out cartoon monk with a halo and a foaming beer mug in one hand pointed the way with ghostly hospitality.

The Morgs were looking from the sign and back to Timmy, eyes squinting and frowning in puzzlement. Up close, the caricature was nearly a dead ringer for the old man. Timmy was annoyed and impatient.

“Would you tell these guys to cut it out? For crying out loud … an old friar is an old friar. We all look alike!”

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand this crazy place,” Roth muttered.

“Settle down, fellas,” I said evenly, turning down the little one lane rural road that led off through the fields. “Keep your eye on Maggie. What do you know about St. Helwig, padre?”

“Never heard of him. Sounds like a garbled pronunciation of Eligius, patron saint of …”

“Of the town, Timmy.”

“Oh! Uh, I really couldn’t say. It’s just one of those little settlements out in the sticks. Back in the day, I recall, kids from there would come into Walnut Springs, of all places, for a night on the big town.”

He hesitated.

“Seems to me I heard something about it a while ago, but … I was out of state for fifteen years; I’ve only been back a few months. I’m not quite caught up on local gossip.”

“Well, something seems to have drawn the beast. Maybe it just needs somewhere quiet to nest a while.” I drove on a bit. “How’s Maggie looking?”

“I’m doing better, Mr. Bob,” she piped up. “Much better. Can I get in the front seat? I can’t see nothing back here.”

“If Mr. Korm don’t mind it, I don’t,” I said. “Crawl on up. Don’t mess with my driving, though, and tell us if you start feeling faint again.”

She tumbled over the seat and snugged herself in between the wiry Morg and me. Though there was still a hint of translucence around her edges and her movements were rather languid, she was alert and interested again. Her brush with nonexistence didn’t seem to faze her a bit. Now that it was over, she acted like neither the past nor the future concerned her at all. Instead she looked around eagerly at the passing scene, calling out “Bird!” or “Cows!” whenever something hove into sight.

I kept one eye on her and one on the road. She was steadily solidifying. I even began to smell a scent of earth and fresh-cut grass. We passed several gravel roads, driveways really, that led to distant weather-beaten farmhouses that appeared to be likely suspects for an evil lair, but as we passed them and the strange little creature kept on improving, I never doubled back. Then, before we even realized it, we were in St. Helwig.

It was just a little huddle of buildings. The newest place looked to be a brick cube erected maybe in the Forties, housing a tiny convenience store. The rest of the houses breathed the air of an even more bygone era, except where they were patched here and there with modern plastic materials. Some had those new energy-efficient windows that stood out like a sore thumb against their ancient painted wood, and cables crawling in and out like exposed veins. I slowed down, but we were passing out of the other side of town before we even knew it and were headed (according to the green road sign) to San Antonio.

We’d gone on for another mile or so before Maggie suddenly said, “Stop. Go back. That was the place, I think.”

“Are you sure?” Timmy asked.

“Yes, I’m starting to feel … ” She swallowed. “It’s somewhere back there.”

“Okay,” I said. I pulled into the next turnaround and we were on our way back. The car was silent. Everyone realized we were drawing in on our quarry.

“I hate this thing,” Maggie said sullenly. Her sudden vehemence was surprising. “I hate that it’s making me stronger. It makes me feel … nasty.”

“Not surprised,” I said. “You’re not compatible, I’m guessing. Not only is this thing alien, it’s evil. It’s like plugging alternate current into direct. It might light you up for a while, but eventually you’ll get cooked, and then –.”

I snapped my trap shut.

“Let’s just concentrate on stopping this thing.”

“That’s something of a relief,” Timmy hazarded from the back seat. “I was beginning to wonder …”

“Tim, do you have anything like a bandana or a hanky?” I interrupted. “We’re gonna be driving around pretty slow through town, and I imagine we’ll be getting more close attention than in Walnut Springs. We need something to mask these Morgs.” I cackled mirthlessly. “In the old days we’d have to hide more than their faces, but with the weird fashions they got goin’ now, I figure they’ll otherwise pass okay, or at least without a rude comment.”

“I can do you better than a bandana.” I could hear him shuffling through the folds of his robe. “I’ve got a couple of extra medical masks I always carry in my pocket. You never know when you’ll want one, these days.”

I shook my head.

“I really need to pay more attention to the news, I guess. All right. Roth, he’s going to put a mask on you. Korm, you watch, and when he gives you one, try to put it on right.”

They got them on with a lot of fuss and feathers, Roth slapping Tim’s hands away when he seemed to pinch his ears and Korm fidgeting and asking a dozen times if it was on straight. But it was accomplished at last. The masks weren’t the best of fits over those protruding muzzles, but it gave a sort of plausible deniability for any casual sightings. We passed another sign as we entered the town. It had been vandalized; now it read “Welcome to St. HELLig.”  I grimaced.