A Friend You Haven't Met: Part Six

 

I started driving around slowly, checking out locations that I figured might draw the attention of the beast, spots, as I mentioned, where dark powers might have left stains. The town seemed nearly deserted, but the quarantine explained that. We passed very few other vehicles, Korm and Roth ducking down at my warning as they approached. Brother Timmy reported no changes in the constant revolving of the needle, however, even when we approached the crumbling old cemetery that I knew contained the hottest psychic energy in town. We stopped there, and I limped out to one white-washed mausoleum with the friar.

“I just don’t get it,” I said. I knocked on the tomb. Timmy started; we could clearly hear something stirring inside, something trapped scurrying fretfully against the walls of its prison. The old man crossed himself.

“Rats?” he asked uncertainly.

“Naw,” I said absently. I took the watcher from him and studied it carefully, making a few adjustments. “But he sure sounds like one, don’t he?” I waved the instrument up and down a bit, trying to get a good reading, but it was useless.

“I just don’t get it,” I said. “This Tekkel thing we’re chasing seems to have lit up lines all over the place, but there’s no pinning it down. My guess is that by nightfall the whole county will be roused and running with every little shred of psychic energy that can suckle on its teat, as it were. It’ll be a rough night.”

Timmy shuddered.

“And Maggie is all part of this. I wish I’d never …” he fell silent.

I snapped the watcher shut gently, then patted him on the back.

“It’s not your fault,” I said. “Nor hers, either. Lots of kids have these imaginary friends, little snippets of fancy that get detached from their psyche. They can do what you can’t, think of things that you daren’t, go on adventures that the timid body can only dream about. But most of all, they’re friends.” I looked at him speculatively. “For all your brothers and sisters, you were a lonely little boy, weren’t you?”

The old man looked taken aback.

“Well, yes, in a way,” he said. “Nobody really seemed to ‘get me’, as they used to say.” He looked wistful a moment, then gathered himself up. “But I’ve had plenty of friends since then. Why is she still around at all, to get ‘lit up’? I haven’t even thought about her much for fifty years!”

“These sorts of things can have an enormous shelf life,” I said. I kicked to tomb, and something inside scuffled angrily. “If you really want them gone, you have to dispose of them properly.” I shrugged. “But there seems no harm in the girl to me, and I’ve had a lot of experience in the area. If we get rid of the Tekkel, she should go quiet again.”

“I say! I say, Mr. Bob!”

I looked up. To my alarm, Korm was out of the car, wading through the deep uncut spring weeds of the cemetery and waving his arm in the air. In the quiet of the cemetery his oddity stood out like a sore thumb. If there was even one observer … I ran over, Brother Timmy following in my wake.

“Will you keep it down?” I hissed when we caught up to him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s that little mud-thing, that green girl Maggie!” Korm gabbled. “We were just talking with her when suddenly … You had best come see! She’s in trouble, I think!”

“What’s he saying?” Tim asked.

“Come on!” I grabbed his arm and we all started hurrying back to the car. As we ran, a realization struck me, but I didn’t stop. “Wait, you can understand each other?”

“We thought it was odd, too, without an amulet, but …” Korm stopped. We had reached the car and he was looking in bafflement at the door handle.

“Come on!” I reached over and pulled on it impatiently. The door swung open, screeching heavily.

Roth was sitting there, Maggie cradled in his arms. The big Morg looked more concerned and tender and less pissed than I’d ever yet seen him.

“Hang in there, child, hang in there,” he crooned roughly, his hand rubbing on her flat little chest. His eyes flicked up at me, then down again. “The old man’s here,” he said reassuringly. “He’ll know what to do.”

“Timmy?” she murmured.

“Sorry. Old Man Bob, first,” I said briskly, in my best bedside manner. “Let’s have a look at you.”

But it was immediately obvious what had alarmed the Morgs so much. Maggie was fading away.

Her entire body, which had seemed so solid despite her weightless floating through the air, had gone translucent, especially around the edges. Not only that, but even as I quickly examined the little creature, the snail shells on her head and strands of grass from her skirt were falling away, one by one, dissolving and disappearing before they could even hit the seat or the distressed Roth’s clothing.

Very gently, I opened one of her eyes wide, afraid that the lid might go flying off. I examined it a moment, then moved her body in and out of the light that struggled through to the back seat. I took out the watcher and adjusted it to the level I had found her on at first.

“Mm-hm,” I concluded, drawing back out of the car. “Tim, you should hold her.”

He looked at me like I had just asked him to pick up his own poops.

“Why? What good will that do?” he asked warily.

“Well.” I tried to be calm but firm. “You are her creator, Timmy. She’ll either get better or she won’t. If she doesn’t, I think you at least owe it to her to be there.” He hesitated; his whole body looked uncertain.

“She’s calling for you, Tim.”

He paused for a heartbeat, then finally crumbled.

“Oh, all right.” He slipped into the seat beside the Morg. “I’m not sure how to comfort a creature like this, or even if I should, but …” He accepted the faded little body gingerly into his hands and held it rather like a dead fish.

“Talk to her, Tim,” I said. I gestured for Korm to head for the front seat. “We’ll head back into town; she seemed strong there. We should get out of here anyway; in case somebody saw you. There’s cameras everywhere these days, but we don’t need for them to get real physical evidence on top of that.”

I got behind the wheel and glanced back. Maggie looked no better hanging in his arms, but I was just in time to see her open her eyes and look up at the old friar with a weak smile.

“There, now, Maggie,” he said. “It’ll be okay. Mr. Bob’s going to get you home.”

“We going to Circle Street?” I heard the shaky reply as I put the car in gear and started to pull out.

“No, no, heavens no, child. I haven’t gone there for fifteen years now. Since Mama …” He broke off, overwhelmed, then rallied. “We’re going to help you. You just hang on.”

“That’s okay, Timmy.” Her voice was soft and silvery. “It was good that we saw each other again, even if it was only one last time.”

“Now, don’t say that, girl,” he said. I looked up at the rearview mirror. He was holding her closer, almost like dandling a baby. “You’re not gone yet.”

I turned to my driving but couldn’t help hearing what went on as I turned out of the cemetery and onto the road.

“Do you remember,” she began. There was a smile in her voice. “Do you remember how, for one day a week, I wouldn’t be mud and snails? For that one day, I was the most beautiful girl in the world. You said.”

“Yes, you were,” the old man said quietly. “I remember. With long auburn hair and happy green eyes.”

She sighed.

“I wish I could have been that way for you today. But … it’s not Saturday.”

“You look fine enough, Mags,” he said reassuringly. After a moment, he raised his voice. “Could you maybe drive a little faster, Mr. Bob?”

I sped up just a bit, but not much. The last thing I needed, especially with such an oddball load of passengers, was to draw attention. I cut my eyes across the seat to Korm. The skinny Morg was watching my driving moves with intense fascination. When he saw me look over him, he seemed to snap out of a trance.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But from up here I can really see what you’re doing. It seems rather complicated.”

“It is for me,” I snapped shortly. “So don’t put me off my stroke.” I saw the dismayed look on his wrinkled snout, then turned back to the road ahead of us and chuckled. “Now I apologize. I’m afraid I’m like the centipede who was asked how he walked with so many legs. If I have to stop and think about it too much, I might get confused and not be able to do it. And that would be rather disastrous for us.”

“I can see how that would be,” Korm said sagely. He was quiet for a moment. “Still,” he went on, voice brimming with curiosity and studied nonchalance. “If we get a chance, I wouldn’t mind trying …”

“No,” I said firmly. He looked hurt again. “Let’s just keep our minds on the task at hand, shall we? Keep your eyes open and hide your face if we pass another car.”

“Very well.” A minute passed in silence. In the back seat, we could hear Brother Timmy starting to croon a sad old Spanish lullaby. We listened for a while, then Korm ventured to speak again.

“What is wrong with the little spirit-puppet?” he asked. “What can we do? Why is she … dying?”

“I’m not quite sure,” I said. “I’m hoping if we take her back to the church she’ll get better. That’s where she first manifested. That’s when she first lit up … oh, my God.”